Food Fight!

Yesterday was a busy day on cash and tempers were running high. These tanned ladies that ‘just got back’ are driving me nuts. They ‘don’t have a thing’ in the house and are having 20 people over for Easter. They don’t think for 1 second that they might be talking to someone who worked her ass off all winter, driving in death-defying weather and living alone.

“oh, you poor woman….. what a hassle to come back to Canada after a relaxing winter in Mexico and have all your kids and grandkids over this weekend. And you have to spend $200 on all the food you can think of……  gosh, my heart bleeds for you.  Maybe if you are rude to me, it will relieve some of your stress.”  I say to myself while smiling.

I finally broke. There she was tanned way too dark, coiffed dyed hair sticking out in the right directions and sprayed to stay in place. Fingers dripping with diamonds.

“Do you need bags today?”  Is my first question, meaning ‘do you have your own bags?’

She stops putting stuff on the belt and gives me a ‘look’.

“Well, I’d have a pretty hard time getting all this to my car without bags!” she said nastily.

I had to suspend ringing stuff in to bag it every 8-10 items while she continued to empty her cart. The bags piled up on the end while she was still unloading groceries.

Then she started to complain about what she was buying…… “Well, my grandson texted me and said he wanted this……” “This is way too much but I have to make it”  I didn’t hear the rest, I turned her off. Sure, lady, complain about your family.

We finally get to the payment; I see she has a plastic card in her hand.

“is that debit or credit?”  (You can’t tell a debit card from a credit card because the credit card name is on the debit cards, too, and there are all kinds of different looking cards.)

She purses her lips and shoves the card in my face.

Very slowly, faking patience I ask again, “is that a debit card or credit card?”

She says, “What do you think?”

“I think you are a total bitch.” I said.

“What..?” she shrieked, eyes bugging out.

“You heard me bitch, I’ve had enough of your bullshit….. is that a fucking debit or credit card?”

She started waving her card and yelling how she wouldn’t stand for this and where was my boss and blah, blah, blah.

So I took the banana cream pie I had carefully put on top of a bag, opened the lid and shoved it in her face.

It was so funny to see a face of whipped cream with a big whole where her mouth gaped open. I threw my head back laughing….

She picked up a huge steak and tried to slap me with it but I ducked and it hit the cashier behind me.  She was stunned and threw it back without thinking. It went right between us and hit the cashier in front of me. She turned in fury and I pointed to the customer. ‘She did it!”

The cashier picked two bags of chips, put one under each arm pit and bam! like two cannons …..smashed chips stuck to the whip cream.

I jumped onto my counter, unclipped my apron, swung it around like a cape and tackled her. I held her down while everyone pummeled her with bakery goods.

She finally relented. “….it’s a credit card!”

“OK, then….. ” I got up and finished the transaction.

We then stuffed her into a shopping cart and pushed her and her groceries out the front door.

I turned to my next customer and smiled, “Hi! how are you? Do you need bags today?”

 

 

https://occupydailyprompt.wordpress.com/2015/04/01/fool-me-once-the-prompt/

Advertisements

10 thoughts on “Food Fight!

  1. […] and Practice Captured Dream | Passion through Poetry Poets, Shmoets: The Prompt | My Atheist Food Fight! | sixty, single and surviving Spring 1972 | tnkerr-Writing Prompts and PracticePrompt Page 0042: Meaning | Warrior Freya THAT […]

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s