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.”
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.” Read the rest of this entry