Back by popular demand

Many of you were disheartened by the thought of never again hearing stories of the Chex Mix Guy (CMG). Your comments on that last post were quite entertaining and endearing. For instance:

“I can’t believe this ends the Tale of the CMG! Sequel? prequel??”

“Oh, no! This can’t be the end! It can’t!”

“He’ll miss you. One day he will wake up and wonder ‘What ever happened to Crazy Chex Mix Lady?’”

And of course my favorite: “Who wouldn’t miss CCML??”

Happy Chex Mix

Since I hate to let you down, this happened… (Just remember that I do all of this for you, my dear Blog Buddies.)

Last week I loaded my cart, and, surprised to see CMG slumming it at the check stands with lowly riffraff customers, rather than in his ivory managerial tower, I headed to his lane. It was the express lane. There wasn’t an overtly posted sign about the item limit, though I knew whatever the limit was, I was over it.

I didn’t care. Normally I would care, but with this guy, I didn’t care.

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 know you’ve missed him.

Just like last time, the grocery store check-out line got long once I entered it, so Chex Mix Guy was called from what I assume is referred to as “the back” (even though it’s near the front of the store).

I watched him push through the doorway that separates the riffraff from the employee-only Cave of Wonders and scurry toward the check stands. When he looked up and saw me smiling, he hung his head and shook it.

“You’re always causing me trouble,” he said.

Here I had two options for how to respond. See if you can guess which I chose:

A. “I’m sorry. Just bad timing, I guess. I hope you weren’t in the middle of something important.”

or

B. Roll my index fingers around one another in a wide arc like a spinning hamster wheel and say, “Rapido! Rapido!”

The last time I was at this store, so were the cops. Apparently shortly before I arrived, someone couldn’t be bothered with the whole check-out process and simply walked out with a basket full of expensive liquor. CM Guy was off to the side speaking with the police. I guess not even cops warrant passage to the mystical magical “back.”

Mibryant of pixabay.com was kind enough to take this photo of my liquor cabinet to illustrate this blog post.

So on this visit, I, “Crazy Chex Mix Lady,” had my line all ready to go should I get the opportunity to speak with CM Guy.

“I saw the cops here last week,” I began.

On grocery clerks and birthdays

Have any of you made friends with the staff at your local grocery store? (If you have, tell me in the comments. I’d love to hear about it.) The meat guy at one place always says hi and makes small talk. One of the check-stand ladies in the same store calls me “girlfriend” or “little momma.”

Remember this guy? Exhibit A: Boy

Another lady, when I was pregnant with Joe, said that she was telling her daughter, “You know the lady with three girls, two are redheads? She’s having a BOY!” Not only are we chummy, she talks about me to her daughter—wild.

Then, of course, there’s the CM Guy, who can’t seem to be rid of me. On my last visit to his store, there were two lanes open—neither manned by him. But, since both lines were backed up, the checker in my lane picked up her phone and called, “Check stand help,” or something.

A minute later, scurry scurry—because that is the only word that accurately describes the CM Guy’s speedy and purposeful walk. The man takes his job seriously.

So he scurries past the bagging side of the check stands, lifts and arm to point, and says, “I can take the next customer over here.”

Since I, as fate would have it, was the next customer, I moved over, saying, “Are you sure you want to do that?”

“For you, yes. At least, that’s what I’ll say to your face.”

“You again.”

“You again,” the Chex Mix Guy said with a smile. “Is there a sale on I don’t know about?” (If you missed it, you can read the first installment of the Chex Mix Guy saga here.)

I gestured toward my few non-Chex Mix items displayed on the conveyor belt before him. “You’d know it if there were.” He’d already scanned my, ahem, two cartons of ice cream.

“What you got last time should last you a few months.”

“I don’t know about months,” I said. “Maybe weeks.”

He nodded his agreement.

“Did you read the latest post about you?”

“Yes, but what about from the last time you were here?” he said.

“I was going to, but I thought people might be getting tired of these stories.”

“There should be a post every time you come,” he said.

So, in compliance with my enabler supplier, that’s what happened yesterday. The time before that, when I arrived at the store on the appointed day–the day highlighted and circled several times on my calendar–the day, you guessed, that my special shipment of Rain Check Cheddar Chex Mix was due to arrive, I first headed to the produce section to pick up some plums. (See, I can buy healthy stuff too.)

Someone scurried past me. I turned to look.

The saga continues

I’m talking about, you guessed it, Chex Mix.

The sale was even better this week: 88c instead of the usual 99. (Girlfriend loves a bargain.) So I trotted my way to the appropriate aisle, and lo and behold–empty, as in, M-T. Not even a straggler hiding at the back of the shelf. You know I checked.

I bought my other items and headed for the check out line. As fate would have it, the only non-express lane was manned by none other than The CM Guy.

“I’d like to lodge a complaint with the manager,”

The Chex Mix guy strikes again.

Twice actually. A few weeks ago, the 99c sale was on, calling me like a siren song. I hoped I’d see the CM guy so I could continue our funny banter. I was nearly disappointed until I saw him at the last check stand on my way out. (Click here and here for the first two encounters with the Chex Mix guy.)

“Hey, Chex Mix guy.” [I actually used his real name, but you know, privacy and all that.] When he looked up, I said, “Time to restock the Chex Mix again.”

Without missing a beat, he said, “Yeah, I knew it when I saw you come in.” [He probably didn’t see me come in.]

My spoils.

Today I was back. He walked by as I was checking out.

The return of the Chex Mix Guy

Just a quick note to tell you Chex Mix was on sale for 99c again. I grabbed a dozen, plus a few other things, and got in line at the store. Lo and behold, The Chex Mix Guy was the cashier.

How appropriate.

“I cleaned out your Chex Mix supply again,” I said with a wry smile.

“Uh-oh, you again. Do you need me to check in the back for more?”

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,