The Chex Mix meets its end

I recently started taking Chex Mix with me to parties–a sure fire way of being invited back. Since there were a lot of parties for the holidays, I ran out and hit my local store to replenish my supplies. The Chex Mix Guy (CMG) had ordered a box of both Cheddar and Honey Nut for me back in October, housing them in his office, while I slowly chipped away at them.

Crying Chex Mix

Amidst the regular shopping I did first, I glanced down at the Chex Mix shelf and saw, amongst the black and blue of Bold and Boring (aka Traditional) the golden hues of my sacred flavors.

Betrayal!

I marched to the customer service desk and asked the lady to call CMG’s office. She got him on the phone and relayed the message: “A customer wants to know if you put out all of her Chex Mix.”

Here I’m grinning stupidly, thinking this must be one of the most bizarre statements this woman has ever made. That, and I’m imagining what CMG’s reaction must be.

After a pause, she says, “Okay,” hangs up, and tells me, “He’ll be right down.”

I head toward the nearby doorway leading to The Back and have barely reached it when CMG comes scurrying out.

“You told me months ago that I should put it out,” he says as we walk toward the snack aisle. Two boxes, at 12 bags each, was a bit much even for me to handle.

“I know,” I say, not reminding him that I said some of it. “But did you have to put all of it out?”

This, times two. I can see how that could get annoying.

“I got tired of having the boxes under my desk.”

Fine.

“And we were told to clear stuff out.”

Hmm. Sure. Reading between the lines, I’m hearing: “I am so over you and this stuff.”

“I only put it out a week ago, and look, no one wants it.”

How dare he? I crouch down to retrieve all of my poor orphaned children, cuddling them close and whispering, “You’ll be home soon.” There were 11 left, which means three were bought by strangers.

I mourn them still.

Though the bags were safely cradled in my arms, CMG decides, out of good customer service, chivalry, or both, to carry them for me. As he’s grabbing them, many are falling on the floor. Fortunately, we were both crouching since they were housed on the bottom shelf. Rude! Still, every time he went to pick one up, another fell.

Thud! Thud! Thud! … Thud! Thud!

Perhaps I should be rending my garments over the plight (and flight) of my poor babies, but instead I’m cracking up because this is straight up comedy. A quick glance at CMG’s face, however, and my laughter dies on my lips with one last strangled “Mmmph” when I see that he is not amused.

He wrangles the protesting bags and heads toward the check stands. I help out by carrying… one bag. He dumps them on the conveyor belt, and when they roll to the end, the bagger girl says, “I didn’t know we carried Honey Nut.”

“Not any more,” CMG and I say in unison.

Five bags later: “We carry Cheddar too?”

CMG and me: “Not any more,” though he seems to say it with far more enthusiasm than I do.

And so the last of my Chex Mix came home, thus ending the tale of The Chex Mix Guy.

Home at last.

The next night I tore a bag open for our inaugural Game Night of 2020. It was reduced to crumbs by the end.

One bag down.

I also opened a bottle of champagne, saying, “This is in honor of our first game night of the year and not because we forgot to open it on New Year’s Eve.”

Do you think they bought that?

The champagne was well spent, as we had one of the best nights ever. So many jokes and laughter reducing some to literal tears. I’ve resolved to host a game night every month and not just because it means my house will get a thorough cleaning. The Chex Mix won’t last all year, but it will have a good run.

My other New Year’s resolution is to leave the poor Chex Mix Guy alone.

Do you think he’ll mind?