2019-01-21 - 2:31 pm
I had a "spirit of the staircase" moment yesterday.
For those of you who don't live in the South, there are two big supermarket chains: Winn-Dixie and Publix. Winn-Dixie is a very rednecky, trailer trash kind of place where the prices don't justify the gouging, price-wise, they give to their customers. Publix is a little less expensive, but nicer. My mother and I usually prefer to go to Publix, convenient since the nearest one is literally right next door to our gated community.
Unfortunately, for obvious reasons, I can't go to whatever rehab facility (she's not an addict, btw, I mean the physical therapy kind) they're keeping her-see my last post for more details-and get her debit card to get groceries. Fortunately, I still had a Winn-Dixie card from her last stint. Unfortunately, it took at least five or six tries for the card to work, it took manager involvement to do so and right behind me was one of those cranky old, impatient men who think the world is deliberately trying to fuck with him (you know the type).
As I struggled mightily to get it to work, he kept nastily implying he thought that there was no money on the card, and that I was probably trying to stall in the hopes that the cashier would get frustrated and just give me the groceries for free. I snapped at him at one point, asking why he didn't go into another line, if he was in such a hurry. Eventually, we got it to work, and he acted as if I had done him a great favor by finally making it work. (By the way, this was Sunday at around ten-thirty, where did he need to go at this time?)
I wanted to point out that had little food in the house, and had I not been able to make it work, I would've had to find the nearest food bank, but he struck me as the type to rant about "government handouts" (then what do you call Social Security and Medicare, you grumpy little bastard?).
Now I remember why I usually shop at Publix.