Friday Night – Ms. Manners Loose on the Town


OK, it’s Friday Night, nothing to do, so I thought I’d meander down to the local Wal-Mart.  I mean, what do you do on a Friday night when you have no life?  I did need contact solution.

Well, one double pack of contact solution and a buggy full of needless other crap and I head to the check-out.  Now, being the non-conformist that I am, I refuse to check myself out unless I have one item and the other line is occupied.  Tonight, everyone wanted to check themselves out, with these great big full buggies.  So, I wander on down the one of the two check-out lines with a real person working.  This line doesn’t have too much stuff in front of me.

The guy in front of me had two separate orders.  I never did understand that.  Just like when folks run to grab everyone food.  Don’t do 43 different orders. Just order it together and figure out the money when you get back.  It’s not rocket science.  So, he finishes his two transactions.   My stuff moves up on the belt to the checker.  Then a 12-pack of Michelob Gold or some other gross looking beer appears in front of my stuff.  Huh? Does dude have three transactions?  sigh.  No, a dude which had been standing at the end of the isle steps up and the cashier checks him out.  I guess he didn’t have his ID when he tried to buy it the first time- which is why my mom, cheapskate of the year, won’t buy alcohol at Wal-Mart.  She’s seventy-something and they still card her.  Dude looked like he was in his thirties – but he provided an adequate ID, bought his beer and began to leave.  I had no life on this Friday, so I didn’t care.

Meanwhile, thirty-something dude was checking out, a young black guy walks up and is almost jumping up and down in place.  Britches baggy but his butt’s not showing.  Maybe because his hoodie (oh, can I say that a young black man was wearing a hoodie?) was three sizes too big.  When beer dude walks away, young black dude (does it seem bad that I call him “young black dude” when I didn’t call thirty-something dude “white thirty-something dude”, or the first dude “white two-transaction dude”? I only mean it as I’m white and he wasn’t – OK so I guess it doesn’t matter.  I’ll call him “baggie britches dude”) So, anyway, baggie britches dude asks me if he can go next he just needs some cigarettes. (I am in the tobacco check-out)

It’s Friday night, I have no life – sure dude, go ahead.  So he buys 3 packs of Newports.  Oh, wait, no he needs Longs, not shorts.  Yes, he has his ID. Then he swipes his card.  No luck.  Swipes again.  Nope.  Now, understand, this is only one of two check-outs with cashiers.  True, it is a Friday night, but it seems many in this small town, like me, have no life.  The line behind me is wrapped about 1/2 way around the store.  So, after the second rejection, baggie britches dude pulls out a Twenty and pays.  Really?  Sigh.  He finishes up and turns and walks away.

“Young Man!”, said I sternly.

He turned and looked at me.

“You could say Thank You”

To which he offered a mumbled “Thank you” and left.  The young black female cashier looked at me, smiled, and said “good for you!”

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Mary Swisher
    Nov 23, 2013 @ 11:39:23

    And I second the young lady checker; nobody has manners anymore. In the inimiitable words of Bling — PPpuuuuuhhh! Love these last two blogs!

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