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Monday, January 23, 2012
Where’s Andy Rooney When You Need Him?
There are many things in life we have no control over. You would think choosing which line to stand in at the supermarket wouldn’t be one of them.
No so. By going to the same store over time—the Fry’s at 91st Avenue and Olive, I’ve become acquainted with some of the checkers. If I see one of them on duty, I like to go through that line, even if it is a little longer than the others. Trouble is, too often, the checkout police won’t allow it. It happened again today. Most of the time, they at least ask. This one didn’t.
“I’ll ring you up over here, hon,” she said, grabbing my cart and taking off.
“I’d rather you didn’t, dearie,” I wanted to say. However, she was already gone, cart and all. I had no choice but to trail after her. Scanning my items, she chattered away, seemingly oblivious to the sour look on my face. To top it off, she forgot to remove something from one of the items, causing me to be stopped at the door on my way out.
Where’s Andy Rooney when you need him? If he were still here, maybe he could do something.
But alas, he’s no longer with us. So barring that, I just want to say this:
Note to Fry’s employees: first of all, don’t call me “hon,” and second, please allow me to choose which line I want to go through. Is that really too much to ask?