As a city dweller, I’ve found that one of the things I most miss from my sheltered suburban life is shopping centers. And no, I never thought I’d say that. Seeing as trips to Target now are special occasions, I wasn’t too surprised when I ended up spending enough time there this past weekend to: watch two movies, knit a sweater large enough for one of those obese people documented on TLC or travel to Indianapolis.
Needless to say, at the end of my trip my stomach and I were both ready to cut loose and devour those Maui Onion chips I purchased. What at first seemed to be an easy enough task proved to be much more difficult upon meeting my cashier.
As I approached my cashier, my heart melted when I was greeted with a warm smile coming from an elderly plump woman with frizzy hair haloing her crinkly face. She kindly inquired whether I would be using any coupons. (No.) Did I have a Target card? (Yes.) Would I be using my Target card? (Yes.) Would I like to swipe it right now as she bags my things? (Sure.) How was my shopping experience? (Hmm…it was fine.) Okay, my “shopping experience” was now teetering on the line between “kind and sweet old woman” to “perhaps crazy but still sweet (in a crazy way) old woman.” This woman seemed to me that she was a bit too overzealous about her own Target experience.
As I was busing increasing my ever growing Target bill, I failed to notice the futile bagging efforts of Miss Crazed Cashier. If the environment was looking to target its arch nemesis (you know, besides global warming and Hummers) I would nominate this woman. This poor soul was utterly confused at how to bag products. Case in point: I purchased a delicious, yet small, box of frozen Spinach & Goat Cheese Archer Farms pizza – to go along with my delectable Maui Onion chips. Although small, the box was bigger than say…a toothbrush but it seemed to throw off this woman so much that she pulled out the rarely seen jumbo bags used for purchases such as Christmas trees. But wait. Inside of this jumbo bag, which was big enough to fit me holding all of my purchases, she places the frozen pizza with ONE other small item.
As the madness continued I noticed that she had practically given every single item its very own bag. Now my chauffeur of the day was beginning her check-out process. As you may have guessed, the exact same scenario began to play out. Same questions. Same answers. Same mystified look where you know the person is thinking, “Am I being a jerk to mistake someone’s apparent kindness for pure battiness?”
As I stood there peering down at my eight jumbo bags and four normal sized bags containing my (most likely) ten products I began to experience what I frequently did in the seventh grade. That moment where you simply cannot contain your laughter. Where you are literally ready to explode with giggles but know that you must not because it would be considered highly inappropriate. That moment where you have a second of complete seriousness where you are literally mad at yourself for even thinking about laughing at such a bad time. I find that it’s usually right after this moment that I bust out in inappropriate laughter.
I look over to see if anyone noticed. No. Too busy figuring out the logistics of bagging eight products into ten bags.