09-24-2025, 03:48 PM
Yesterday, 9/23/2025, Rapture Day, was one of my scheduled grocery shopping days. Rapture days are good times to shop, while others are home not providing for a mundane future. More food for me.
After doing my usual inventory of food stuff in the borrowed pantry space; I needed 200 coffee filters, three cans of ground coffee, and more peanut butter (64 oz creamy) in addition to my usual milk, cereal, bread, and soft cheese.
Shopping day comes every other week. Due to driver availability though, sometimes three weeks, depending on whether my driver has tickets to a game or something.
So my driver opens the trunk of his car and we put our re-usable bags in, get in and drive to the store. My driver, who also owns the car, shops the same time that I do. Not that that's the only time he shops. He can go to fast food joints and even order his food delivered, 'cuz people do that sort of thing.
So skipping the actual shopping, which needs no explanation, well okay, maybe, pushing a cart up and down aisles, taking cans, boxes, or cartons ... You get the gist. So I get to the special side door check out, Betty's (fake name) and there is a guy behind me with only one item, so I ask, "would you like to go ahead of me?"
He did, and he appreciated that.
My turn at the register; I was chatting with Betty about the relative benefits of boxed cereal over bagged, as I was bagging my own groceries 'cus she has some trouble moving rapidly, something I can sympathize with because I have similar issues. Then she started telling me about some type of confection that included peanut butter.
That's when it hit me. "Oh shoot!" I exclaimed. "I forgot the peanut butter!"
My turn at checkout was just finishing up, so in panic I looked toward the back of the line and spotted a girl of about 18, or 19 and called out to her, "Hey Liz! Can you get me a jar of peanut butter?"
Her name has a high chance of not being Liz; but at one time I had been informed that people would rather be called by the wrong name than by no name at all. Liz looked a bit panicked and asked "What? Me? Which aisle is it in?"
Then I thought that as it would take too long to explain the brand, weight, and creamy not crunchy, best just get it myself. So I said, "I'll get it myself if you will watch my cart for me."
"Okay" she replied "I can do that." So I pushed the cart, now refilled with bagged groceries to a spot by the exit door and took the very long walk to fetch the peanut butter. I should say that the payment part of the procedure had already been concluded.
I expected that I would have to go through the line process again. Just to be clear, the self checkout was way far away from the side door that the driver was parked close to; and besides that, I never find self checkout faster, because invariably something goes awry and I'm left waiting for someone to come by and push a button or something to clear some malfunction.
I get to the checkout, Liz is still guarding my cart, and there is a couple, man and woman, in front of me. Their cart is chock full of about $300 worth of merchandise. It's rather selfish thinking on my part that they might let me go ahead of them, but I guess they didn't notice my one jar of peanut butter.
As the woman was unloading the cart while the man was just standing there aloof, I thought it was a patriarchal type social dynamic playing out. I said to the man, "Do you see this jar of peanut butter? It costs 7 dollars and 79 cents."
To which he replied, "Oh yeah, peanut butter is expensive."
So I continued, "I've got a deal for you," as I held up two five dollar bills, "I give you ten dollars ..."
"Ohhh! Ten dollars" he replied.
That's when the lady cut in with, "He can't do that. He's learning disabled" and continued to unload her cart onto the conveyor belt.
So I quickly reassessed the social dynamic playing out, "But you can. Here's the deal, I give you ten dollars, then I have Betty scan the peanut butter. I walk out and you get to keep the extra two dollars and twenty one cents."
"You should have gone through the self check out" she responded and continued to unload her cart.
I did mention that Betty is rather slow didn't I? Well it's true. So I moped. It isn't like I planned to mope, it was rather unbidden. So I faced perpendicular to the checkout belt and stared with unfocused gaze at whatever the heck was in those racks with gum and whatnot. While moping I looked inward and thought, "So this is moping. It's been a while, might as well revel in the feeling. It is feeling after all, and not cold emotionless emptiness.
The moping didn't last long enough. The lady's checkout process was only about 50% done. That's when I looked for Liz and my cart. They were gone.
So now I have one 64 oz jar of creamy peanut butter to last me for the next two to three weeks. But my sister, in a phone conversation months ago, reminded me of the peanut butter handwiches which she had invented a long time ago.
I remembered the name of the delicacy which requires no bread, but I sure don't remember ever spreading peanut butter on my hand; maybe she did. I remember using a spoon.
Let me check...
Yep, I still have a spoon.
After doing my usual inventory of food stuff in the borrowed pantry space; I needed 200 coffee filters, three cans of ground coffee, and more peanut butter (64 oz creamy) in addition to my usual milk, cereal, bread, and soft cheese.
Shopping day comes every other week. Due to driver availability though, sometimes three weeks, depending on whether my driver has tickets to a game or something.
So my driver opens the trunk of his car and we put our re-usable bags in, get in and drive to the store. My driver, who also owns the car, shops the same time that I do. Not that that's the only time he shops. He can go to fast food joints and even order his food delivered, 'cuz people do that sort of thing.
So skipping the actual shopping, which needs no explanation, well okay, maybe, pushing a cart up and down aisles, taking cans, boxes, or cartons ... You get the gist. So I get to the special side door check out, Betty's (fake name) and there is a guy behind me with only one item, so I ask, "would you like to go ahead of me?"
He did, and he appreciated that.
My turn at the register; I was chatting with Betty about the relative benefits of boxed cereal over bagged, as I was bagging my own groceries 'cus she has some trouble moving rapidly, something I can sympathize with because I have similar issues. Then she started telling me about some type of confection that included peanut butter.
That's when it hit me. "Oh shoot!" I exclaimed. "I forgot the peanut butter!"
My turn at checkout was just finishing up, so in panic I looked toward the back of the line and spotted a girl of about 18, or 19 and called out to her, "Hey Liz! Can you get me a jar of peanut butter?"
Her name has a high chance of not being Liz; but at one time I had been informed that people would rather be called by the wrong name than by no name at all. Liz looked a bit panicked and asked "What? Me? Which aisle is it in?"
Then I thought that as it would take too long to explain the brand, weight, and creamy not crunchy, best just get it myself. So I said, "I'll get it myself if you will watch my cart for me."
"Okay" she replied "I can do that." So I pushed the cart, now refilled with bagged groceries to a spot by the exit door and took the very long walk to fetch the peanut butter. I should say that the payment part of the procedure had already been concluded.
I expected that I would have to go through the line process again. Just to be clear, the self checkout was way far away from the side door that the driver was parked close to; and besides that, I never find self checkout faster, because invariably something goes awry and I'm left waiting for someone to come by and push a button or something to clear some malfunction.
I get to the checkout, Liz is still guarding my cart, and there is a couple, man and woman, in front of me. Their cart is chock full of about $300 worth of merchandise. It's rather selfish thinking on my part that they might let me go ahead of them, but I guess they didn't notice my one jar of peanut butter.
As the woman was unloading the cart while the man was just standing there aloof, I thought it was a patriarchal type social dynamic playing out. I said to the man, "Do you see this jar of peanut butter? It costs 7 dollars and 79 cents."
To which he replied, "Oh yeah, peanut butter is expensive."
So I continued, "I've got a deal for you," as I held up two five dollar bills, "I give you ten dollars ..."
"Ohhh! Ten dollars" he replied.
That's when the lady cut in with, "He can't do that. He's learning disabled" and continued to unload her cart onto the conveyor belt.
So I quickly reassessed the social dynamic playing out, "But you can. Here's the deal, I give you ten dollars, then I have Betty scan the peanut butter. I walk out and you get to keep the extra two dollars and twenty one cents."
"You should have gone through the self check out" she responded and continued to unload her cart.
I did mention that Betty is rather slow didn't I? Well it's true. So I moped. It isn't like I planned to mope, it was rather unbidden. So I faced perpendicular to the checkout belt and stared with unfocused gaze at whatever the heck was in those racks with gum and whatnot. While moping I looked inward and thought, "So this is moping. It's been a while, might as well revel in the feeling. It is feeling after all, and not cold emotionless emptiness.
The moping didn't last long enough. The lady's checkout process was only about 50% done. That's when I looked for Liz and my cart. They were gone.
So now I have one 64 oz jar of creamy peanut butter to last me for the next two to three weeks. But my sister, in a phone conversation months ago, reminded me of the peanut butter handwiches which she had invented a long time ago.
I remembered the name of the delicacy which requires no bread, but I sure don't remember ever spreading peanut butter on my hand; maybe she did. I remember using a spoon.
Let me check...
Yep, I still have a spoon.
There's a reason you separate military and the police. One fights the enemies of the state, the other serves and protects the people. When the military becomes both, then the enemies of the state tend to become the people. - Commander William Adama
