Impatient Bastard

I’m generally not considered such but waiting in the Safeway checkout line turns me into one.  I try to scope things out before I decide on which line to commit to, but I invariably screw up as I see people that choose a different line after me leave the store before me, with a haughty look on their face I might add.

I chose wrong again yesterday.  I usually do the self-checkout, but you cannot use it with alcohol.  As I’ve mentioned previously, our sage political leaders in Sacramento changed the law so you can no longer self-check your 1.5-liter plastic bottle of Popov vodka or any other booze.  In an aside, I’d like to highly recommend you try the 2016 Artezin Zinfandel from Mendocino.  If you buy six or more, and I always do, you can get it at the bargain price of $12.15 per.

So, now on to my adventure in the checkout line. The woman in front of me didn’t seem to have anything too complicated and the person in front of her was almost done.  Of course, one of that person’s final items engendered an extended conversation about the validity of one of his coupons.  However, they did come to an agreement after a couple minutes and he headed off into the parking lot.  Then Ma Barker decided she was going to pay with a check.  I was born in the 50s and I never do that.  She couldn’t quite get it right the first pass, so she had to pull out a new booklet of checks.  She apologized to me, but I didn’t want her to see the prick inside, so I gently told her it was no problem.  By that time Gampy came up behind me, and he was gabbing from the get-go.  To my chagrin, I briefly engaged him, telling him he’d covered all the major food groups when he put his pastries and gummy bears on the conveyer.  He thought that was a laugh riot and shared it with the guy behind him.  His stream of consciousness bullshit continued as I exited the first world hell that is Safeway.