chickenshoot (chickenshoot) wrote,

Lost gripes


A pair of my pants are missing. I'd describe them as short-pants, but all of my pants are short because I'm an inch away from being a midget.

I'd just like to know where a pair of pants can go, you know, within the confines of my house. At all times these pants can exist in three locations: on my legs, in the hamper, or in a drawer. There are no other possibilities unless someone took them. Hey, if that's all the robber wanted, I suppose I'm lucky.

A box of trashbags that I just bought a few days ago is missing as well. This one isn't a mystery, though. I know what's happened here: the damn check-out person at the store put them in a bag and then did not put them with my other groceries in the cart. This happens about every other time I go to the store. I've learned to look around on the counter and ask, "Is that everything?" but apparently even that is not enough.

(As you can see in the picture, I only buy clear trashbags, and I only throw away wads of white paper so that my trash will look pretty.)

You would think I would learn to keep the receipt so that I can go to the store and tell them what happened, but I only remember to keep it sometimes. Besides, if you wait a few days before going to ask, the people in the store seem very suspicious. There's really no proof that I didn't already receive the item, and maybe I'm just trying to get a second one free. They're gonna be especially suspicious IF I HAVE TO GO UP THERE ONCE A WEEK TO CLAIM SOMETHING THAT DIDN'T MAKE IT HOME WITH ME.

Of course the store wouldn't dream of checking into their own obvious problem. Bless the kids who really try to smile and speak to the customer and pay attention, but too often it's someone who won't look at me and is talking to someone else while they ring me up---again it's the post office syndrome where I feel like I'm intruding by coming into their building and requiring their services.

The most neglected item is bananas. I get bananas nearly every time I go to the store because my rabbits eat them every day. So do I. Every few store trips the bananas don't make it home with me. The other day, though, I was unloading the groceries and was thinking about this when I pulled out TWO bunches of them, and I'd only bought one. I had someone else's bananas. I can't even think to myself "Bonus!" because some other sap obviously got ripped off. But I'll be damned if I'm driving these bananas back to the store.

(Hey, here's a lot of abandoned bananas!)

Ok, and while I'm here, I'm gonna say something I shouldn't. See, I think it's wonderful that the grocery stores hire these disabled fellows to bag groceries, so please don't think I'm an ass for complaining at all. And I don't know the medical condition of any of them, be it mentally retarded or brain-damaged, but the few I encounter regularly are pretty obviously not quite functioning at their apparent age. Geez, what's a PC way to put this...? Anyways, I wouldn't even mention it, but about five times now I've encountered one of them having some sort of breakdown, teary-eyed and mumbling to themselves, and one of them kept asking me, "Am I a bad person?" It's heart-breaking, and I just want to know why the checkers/managers or whatever other employees aren't kinda keeping tabs on them. Obviously there's some one-on-one needed every day to make sure they are doing okay, dammit. Buying my groceries shouldn't make me head to the car wishing I could hug the guy or feeling depressed as all hell.

Last week there was a bagger who was being so dirty to me that I was speechless. The checker was busy yelling over my shoulder to another employee and gossiping, not paying attention. So I was the only one who could hear this bagger asking if women's breasts float while taking bubble baths. He asked it repeatedly with this sly look on his face. He kept saying, "You know what I'm saying." Ugh. I wasn't sure if he was one of the mentally handicapped baggers, so I didn't know if I was allowed to tell him to shut the hell up, or if I should report him to someone, or if I should just accept that the guy can't help it. No, I had to leave it and wonder if he didn't know better or if I just let some twenty-something dirtbag totally violate my ears. Awkward.

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