Photo: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/5353901/I'm the slowest shopper in the world. The last time my wife sent me to the store for some cold-sore medicine, I came back 2 1/2 hours later with a case of ginger ale, some exotic piece of fruit from the produce section, and a pack of cinnamon graham crackers--totally forgetting the medicine. Now, when she sends me to the store, she packs me a lunch and writes the item she needs on my forehead, so the cashier will ask me about it as I'm buying a bunch of useless crap.
I just get lost in supermarkets. I'm wide-eyed and mystified by everything available for purchase. Not only that, every little purchase is a HUGE decision. If you're buying salsa, you'll need to choose mild, medium, or hot. Then you'll need to decide between the off-brand and the name-brand. Say you go with the medium name-brand. But then you notice the off-brand mild features a peach and mango variety. Well that, my friend, is a wrench thrown in your, uh, gears.
Needless to say my methodical shopping has gotten me into trouble, not only with my wife, but also with the law (kind of the same thing, though).
As you recall from a previous article, it's taken me quite some time to find a good deodorant. Every time I purchased a new stick, I'd spend a very long time scrutinizing all my options. One particular time, as I was taking forever as usual, I noticed a store clerk kept coming by the aisle I was in. She was acting very casual, but it all seemed a bit peculiar.
After walking by a number of times, she eventually came closer and started to look over the shelves next to me, as if she was scanning price tags or something. I figured I was in her way, and I knew I would need at least another 10 minutes to make a final decision, so I quickly left and walked over to the next isle to wait for her to finish. Just then she came full-speed around the corner at the other end and walked briskly towards me.
"Take out whatever you put in your pocket and give it to me!" she demanded. I told her I didn't have anything, to which she replied, "I've got security at the front door, you're not getting away." I handed her my coat and turned my pant pockets inside out for her to check everything out. "Obviously you already got rid of it," she scowled. We stood in silence for a moment, one as the accused and one as the accuser, then she stormed off.
While that happened a few years ago, just yesterday I was at a department store looking for a new set of hair clippers. I live and die by the buzz cut, so this new set of clippers I was buying was very important to me. Once I got to the aisle where they were sold a world of options was opened up to me. Did I need a cordless set? Should I pay another $8 for titanium blades? One set came with a nose-hair trimmer; should I be trimming those?
After a while I found one set of clippers that was in a partly opened box and I was able to pull out the user's manual to get some information that wasn't printed on the outside of the box. I put it back together and placed it back on the shelf.
About 30 minutes later, after carefully studying each one, I nailed down my choice and started to walk off with it. Just then I noticed two store employees waiting for me at the end of the aisle. They quickly turned away and acted like they didn't notice me. I got past them, only to have a security officer step in front of me. I knew right then what was about to go down.
"Do you need help finding anything?" he said, cynically. "No, I'm good," I replied. He followed close behind as I walked towards the nearest cash register. I looked around and figured that most of the store's employees were gathered to watch me.
I had wanted to look for a few more things, but I figured I'd be wrongfully arrested if I stayed around any longer. I checked out and walked proudly through the security beeper things by the exit doors. No alarm went off as my innocence was proved, and my refusal to make a rash decision, even if meant having a code red called out in the store, was sustained.
Posts
5 comments:
As i was reading your blog I was forced to go to my fridge to retrieve CHACHIES mango & peach salsa only to discover we are out of chips. I was accused of putting candy in my pockets at the corner store when I was walking home from the Burley Jr. High when I was in the 7th grade. Maybe it had to do with something in the "Genes" not the "Jeans~"
Funny article, Ross, but I feel I need to be the one to tell you that it's spelled "aisle," not "isle."
It's okay, you'll get there.
Concerning nose hair, speaking as one who has always been transparent about his body hair, I think everyone needs to stay vigilant about the various things coming out of their nostrils.
Good call, Adam. My editor didn't get a chance to preview this one. By the way, to answer your comment on the previous post, my wife doesn't comment because she's my editor.
(It's a conflict of interest.)
I think it's probably your appearance. You look stone cold in most of the pictures I've seen of you. If you're still wearing fubu hoodies, lugz, and buzzing your head, you can't blame the security. They are just doing their job at profiling. I actually get the same reaction out of people because I'm white and I shave my head. My black neighbor lady watches me through her window and wont smile when she says hi. She likes my wife though.
Maybe you need to give a few more friendly smiles and "hey, how are you's" to the cashiers as you browse the aisles.
Gabe is big on trimming nose hairs. He says no one needs to look like they have the Amazon rain forest coming out of their nostrils. You better go back and get the one with the trimmer. Watch out for those old man ear hairs that seem to come as well.
Post a Comment