Green Eggs and Spam

Grocery stores are out of bread again. On the way to do the weekly shopping, I pause at a bakery we'd stopped at the week before. They bake bread fresh every hour so I grab a couple of bags, add a few more new items to try, and head to the checkout. 

A little more than 120,000 lighter, I am about to head out when I remember they sell manaeesh here. I turned around and head to the back of the bakery where, behind a counter, little rows of savoury pastries beckon. An older man with a cane hobbles ahead of me to the cashier, there to pick up the order he'd called in before. I wait patiently. 

The cashier goes behind the counter to retrieve the paper bags of treats, stapled shut to keep the warmth inside. He starts to ring up the older man's order when I notice a man with his young daughter off to the side. They've just arrived and, before the older man's order is finished, the father starts giving his order to the cashier. I stare at him, surprised that he would so easily step around me and start ordering. Does he not see me standing there? 

I continue to stare at the man. He looks back, meeting my gaze, with a blank look. I know he knows he's done wrong but he refuses to acknowledge it. I stand there for 10 seconds more, then something inside me snaps. 

I don't have to put up with this, I realize. 

So I don't. 

I turn on my heel instantly and march out of the store. I've been out of the house for less than an hour and already I've reached my limit for the day. 

But it's not over yet. 

At the grocery store, I scan my receipt after checking out and realize the 25% cash back is not showing up. I hand the bagger a 5,000 tip and wheel my unwieldy cart over to the customer service center. There aren't many people there so I move into line behind a young man and wait patiently for my turn. 

Then suddenly, things are happening very quickly. The small area fills up with a rush of customers, there to buy a pack of cigarettes, a couple of Cadbury creme eggs, to redeem points for a yellow Lipton mug. And they are all pushing past me, each one eager to be next as soon as a customer service rep is available. 

Amidst the maelstrom of pushing, shoving people, I realize I must collect myself and move forward. Or I will stay there all day. I reposition myself, this time behind a lady who is nearly done with her request. I take a step forward but a young man with his mother are half a step ahead of me. I turn and firmly say, Excuse me, but I was here first. They step back, surprised someone would interrupt their forward momentum. 

After waiting for what seems like an eternity, a representative arrives from the frozen foods section. He takes one look at my receipt, spits out It must be a computer problem, the only thing we can do is refund you and hurries off again. I stand there, wondering why it must be so difficult to deliver on the promise they had plastered all over their vegan products section, in bold black letters, proclaiming 25% Cash back on Vegan Deli. I decide it must be because either 1) they didn't specify clearly which vegan deli items qualified and it must have been only the more expensive ones, or 2) they are lazy and can't be bothered. Most likely it's the second. 

Now I must wait again for the customer service rep who first helped me as she has decided to multi task and help the next person in life. Finally, she rings up the refund as I turn to see a couple of teenagers standing next to my cart, one of them leaning casually on the handle as if it belongs to him. Excuse me, I say as I glare at him and maneuver my cart away from him and closer to me. I mumble to myself, This is not your cart. 

Finally, I have my refund and I can go to my car and head for home. It's been just another day of madness in this Dr. Seuss world that I cannot find my way out of.