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2006-10-10 @ 1:50 p.m.
broadway numbers in bulk foods


I’m packing heat now. Yup, yup, yup. The grocery store has issued me a box cutter. Of course they don’t exactly know that I’m an angry bipolar woman. Heh! SURPRISE! Especially for the people who are thinking of asking me stupid questions. Like the yuppie guy standing in the cafe department who asked me where the forks were. I was very excited because it was something I actually knew where it was. It was 7 steps behind him. So I told him. Then he said, “No, the ones near the outdoor seating.” Huh? We don’t have outdoor seating. We’re a freaking grocery store. He kind of scoffed at my supposed idiot behavior and then walked in the opposite direction, presumably towards the “outdoor” forks.

I carry a blade, dude! Watch it!


And then there was the woman who asked me where the almond paste was. Huh? What’s that? I’m not exactly a baking type (as chronicled here recently). Plus I wasn’t wearing my glasses since sweeping doesn’t require seeing tiny things. (Hey, maybe if I ever go on a sleepover date with Harold the Geek...) Anyhoo, I didn’t see anything and then she kind of brushed her hand towards me and said, “Oh, just continue what you were doing.” You know, as if sweeping was all I was good for. That ticked me off, and I was packing heat, but life in prison with a woman named Big Bertha as my roommate didn’t seem like an option, so I went to some people standing nearby and asked them where almond paste was. Happy ending! Oh my God, the woman almost gave me a two week time slot at her Time Share fercrissakes. Its only almond paste, lady.

The next guy was just lazy annoying. Where’s the tofu? Exactly. Even though I’m a hippie, I don’t exactly know what tofu is. I was going to say, “The tofu department!” Heh! “Under ‘T’ for Tofu”. I figured he’d find it eventually, you know, like in the natural food department.

I worked my first day without my sweeping mentor yesterday. I had to answer to a guy she referred to as “an idiot who cuts corners”. And I think I’m going to add, "An idiot who also doesn’t do anything, except chat with coworkers." Because that’s all I saw him doing all day. Chatting. And barking commands into my newly acquired radio. “Have you checked recyclables?” One of those calls came just as I was working in an aisle and looked up and saw “A” and his wife shopping. I walked by and said, “From this to management...soon.” “A” said “Maybe”. He didn’t know I was packing heat. Good thing, huh?

So what is it like sweeping a huge 20,000 square feet store? My back really hurts. I mean severely. My calf muscles are screaming. My feet feel like somebody beat them with hammers. I was telling my mom about the pain and we both can’t understand the leg pain. I’m an avid walker. I generally walk 10-15 miles a week. Why am I in such agony?

Its amazing all the crap you see on the floor though. The produce department, by far, is the worst. Brussel sprouts. Evil. I feel like a Buffalo Sabre hockey player with those little bastards, trying to get them into my little butler thing. And then they keep rolling out. Stop it! But there is a lot to sweep, and since I know you’re dying to come live my exciting life with me, I'll share a partial list of what I got to sweep up yesterday. Whee!

  • Black flattened blobs. What are they? Definitely a subject for a Discovery Channel documentary. They’re everywhere. Are they like dead raisins? Coagulated chocolate? Baby poops? What?

  • A mummified gray strawberry from the Reagan era.

  • A perfectly beautiful and awesome looking chocolate cookie. Dang, what a waste.

  • A single potato chip.

  • 3.6 trillion coffee beans. I really think they need to have a remedial video going for those people who don’t understand the concept of putting the bag UNDER THE COFFEE BEANS COMING OUT OF THE DISPENSER. Yes, I realize, its all very exciting that we have left this task up to you. Unlatching a lever where coffee beans tumble all helter skelter out of a giant hole. “Honey! Come look! Oh dear, now there’s coffee beans falling on my Manolo Blahniks, what do I do?....Should I call my therapist?”

    And my Cloak of Invisibility has served me well. I watched two gay men go through our bulk food section sampling directly out of all the bins. They were just sticking their grubby hands in and pulling out candy and cookies and munching. Like ewwww! I just expected so much more from gay men, ya know? Like can you see that happening at some Project Runway-We-Love-Tim-Gunn wrap party? Some guy running his finger through the creme broulle?

    Of course if I had snapped open my mad-dangerous box cutter and started singing something from “West Side Story”, I might have been able to distract them long enough to call security. But this ain’t a perfect world and I can really only do Broadway numbers in my living room, you know, since that is the only place I can sing and handle sharp instruments without getting arrested.



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