The story of the Chex Mix guy

Chex Mix is delish. I especially like the cheddar flavor. And let’s not forget Turtle Chex with its chocolately goodness. So when the CM, as the cool kids call it*, goes on sale, I pounce.

[*No one calls it this. Definitely NOT cool kids anyway.]

The grocery store advertised Chex Mix for $1.99 for the Family Size bags. I was all over that. But the only bags on the shelf were of the smaller size, NOT on sale, for something absurd like $3.99.

Umm, no.

However, there was no Family Size to be found. A worker looked everywhere and confirmed this.

I said, “So I’m not crazy.”

He said, “Well, we’ve established that you’re right about the Chex Mix, but that doesn’t prove you aren’t crazy.”

I was rather shocked, first of all by his wit, which made me LOL, and secondly that a comment like that was “allowed.” Doesn’t it fly in the face of “the customer is always right” mentality? I didn’t mind of course, as I love a good laugh.

His solution to my dilemma was to sell me two of the smaller 8 oz. bags at the cost of the as-advertised-but-nowhere-in-sight 15 oz. bags.

I grabbed 12.

At check-out, he had to do some fancy finger work across his register screen to make the system do what he wanted it to do. It was taking a while. I felt somewhat bad, so I said, “Thank you for this.”

Without looking up or pausing to blink, he said, “We’ve already established you’re crazy, so it’s best to keep you happy.”

I cut my outburst of laughter short and said, “Laughing like that isn’t helping my cause.”

He may have smirked.

When I returned home with my bounty, my daughter declared, “I’ve never loved you more.”

I know the stuff is good, but *I’m* the crazy one?

Although many people say she takes after me. I guess insanity is hereditary.

What do you think? Was this guy funny? Rude? A rule-breaker? Is Chex Mix worth this abuse? Am I crazy? Is my daughter? Be careful how you answer. No badmouthing the CM.