Next He'll Be Taking the Razor Blades
Last night I cooked for my son and me. We were having turkey left over from Thanksgiving I found in the freezer. Before leaving work, I called my son to find out if there was anything special he wanted with our turkey. "Stove Top Stuffing," came back his reply. I know it's pedestrian but it's also quick and easy so I agreed to pick some up on the way home.
The box of stuffing was the only the thing I needed at the supermarket so I used one of those "do-it-yourself" checkouts with the cheery woman's voice. "Welcome! If you have a Preferred Shopper's Club card, please scan it now." If you only have one or two items - and no one is in front of you - those automated lines are quickest. "Scan coupons or hit the continue button." I was through in a jiffy. "Thank you for shopping at Weis Market."
I paid my $1.55, grabbed my receipt and the box of stuffing, and headed out the door. Because it was just the one item, I didn't bother with paper or plastic.
I had no sooner hit the vestibule when a voice accosts me.
It was the store security guard.
"I'm sorry, sir. I don't mean to say that you're stealing but do you have a receipt for that box of stuffing?"
Exsqueeze me? I'm a fat 49-year-old white guy, evidently successful, in a nice neighborhood carrying the small box of Stove Top Stuffing and you're NOT saying I'm stealing? What's a thief got to do to get a little respect? I mean... Stove Top Stuffing... it's what we steal! And in plain sight, too, just like the old-thief's manual says. No tucking the box under our coat so people can't see it. Forget about offshore check kiting ploys, cooking the corporate books, or byzantine tax dodges, us old guys like the challenge of stuffing.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my receipt. It was crumpled when I held it up. The guard stooped down, cocked his head, peering intently at the wrinkled paper. He scrutinized it. Was it a legitimate Weis Market receipt or a counterfeit?
"Thank you, sir."
The cold air hit me in the face. I breathed deep. Tomorrow... the big box.
K-
I hate those self-checkout things.
I mistakenly deleted your comment on my last post when I was getting rid of my spam. I've got to figure out a better way--moderating the comments is good, but it still means I have to delete by hand and I'm surprised I haven't lost more comments. I did read yours--and I was always afraid I'd trip on my robe too--that's one reason it was so funny when the other guy did.
Hilarious.
And in the background while your purchase was being verified, six slippery characters of conspicuously thin build, yet dressed in incredibly baggy attire, were making off with two half cases of brew, four frozen pizzas, a container of jerky, several candy bars, a copy of Guns 'n Ammo, and the assistant manager's cell phone.