Send me an email

Send me an email: brentpurvis@gmail.com


Friday, July 11, 2014

Grocery Store Blues


It was just an ordinary trip to the grocery store, but I was happy.  I had just finished typing the epilogue of my novel, and nothing was going to ruin my mood.  The lines were long and only two clerks were working up front.  One of them radioed in for backup.  Soon, a man wearing a green apron with onion peels hanging from the straps invited me over to check-stand number-three.  It made sense that he gave me this opportunity.  It was my turn.  I was the next person in line that hadn’t yet emptied my cart onto the conveyor belt.

“Sideburns” must have seen the opening while turning the corner back by the deli.  He sped-walked past the end of three aisles and two packed check-out lines before clipping the edge of my cart.  I felt a small breezed hit me from his wake.  Sure, Sideburns only had one item, but there’s protocol here, ladies and gentlemen.  I would have let him slip past my cart of roughly twenty random products, but he didn’t even give me the chance to offer.  Instead, Sideburns slammed down his gallon-jug of vodka in front of me and starting digging into his pants pockets for cash.   

After haggling with the produce clerk over the hefty amount of tax added to the sum, Sideburns grumpily agreed to pay full price.  He dug out every bill and coin he could find.  He was eighteen cents short. 

Now mind you… this was a well-dressed, middle-aged, overly groomed, after-shave doused, loafer wearing urbanite with a fine-knit sweater tied around his neck.  His wrist-watch was probably worth more than my 1984 pop-up tent-trailer.  Normally, I would have tossed a quarter his way, but not this time.  I had to see how this one played out.

Sideburns couldn’t get his debit card to scan.  Mr. Produce shrugged.  The line piled up behind me.  A baby started to cry.  More card rejections prompted profane muttering.  My strange sense of curiosity kicked into overdrive.  I decided to kick the hornets’ nest. 

 “Try swiping your card faster…like you really mean it!”  Sideburns ignored me.  “Faster, from top to bottom in one quick motion.”  He swiped as fast as he could muster and banged his knuckles onto the side of the check-stand.  A man two customers behind me snorted a laugh.  Mr. Produce scrunched his nose in order to move his over-sized eyeglasses back into place.  Two more scans…two more rejections.  Sideburns let slip a few more choice words. 

“Try a different card,” I offered, leaning in close.  He opened his wallet and flipped through an impressive array of plastic.  A Platinum Visa was finally settled upon.   

Feeling snarky, I chimed, “That’s a good one.  I’m all Platinum these days.” 

“Can I get twenty dollars cash back?” Sideburns asked.   

Mr. Produce answered, “Sorry sir, not on credit cards.  Debit only.”  An elderly lady behind me let out an overly-audible sigh.   

The sale finally rang through and the vodka bottle was wrapped in a paper bag.  Mr. Produce thanked him and told him to have a great day.  Sideburns grabbed the bottle and turned to leave without saying anything in return. 

I immediately called out, “Sir, hang on a minute.”  He stopped and turned toward me.  I bent down and reached a hand out toward the ground, scraping a shiny quarter up from the floor where Sideburns had been standing. 

I offered out the coin, saying, “Now you can afford to buy another one.”  I flashed my toothiest grin. 

He accepted the quarter and abruptly turned to leave. 

“Thank you, come again,” I hollered, just to see if he’d respond.  He was already half out the door. 

Although my primal instinct was to knock the guy in the temple with his gallon-jug of hooch, I had just finished writing my book and was having a good day.  This guy wasn’t going to ruin it.  With my book on my mind, though, I couldn’t help but to think…  How would Kram have handled the situation?  My guess is; somewhere closer to the vodka-bottle-to-the-noggin scenario.

Mink Island is available for download at:
Barnes & Noble   http://bit.ly/MinkIslandBN

No comments:

Post a Comment