Black Friday is history now and it must have been pretty low key because I only heard about a stabbing, a shooting and a pepper spray incident. Unless those stores were giving away $1000 bills, I don’t get why anyone would fight the crowds, risk life and limb and lose a good night’s sleep to save a few bucks or get that “Tickle Me John Madden” or “Wii Betty White Football 2012” or “Lego Attica.” But maybe they’re really hard to find.
While I enjoy a deal just as much as the next person there are limits to what I’ll do to get one. Like peeling low-priced tags off cheaper items and affixing them to more expensive items, hoping the cashier won’t notice or counterfeiting coupons or printing dozens that say “limit one per customer.” And there’s no question that some shoppers have given checkout people good reason to pull out the stuffing to inspect bags.
Shoppers seeking deals should remember their shopping etiquette. Like avoiding the impulse to snatch the last sale item out of someone’s hand. Shame, shame, I know your name. But enough about me. And, for the record, “while supplies last” just encourages competitive shopping and cart hijacking, I’m sorry to say.
And why not apply the science of time management to the checkout? For some reason, I always get behind the person who seems to have only four items in her shopping cart, but is determined to drag out the process. First, she decides to challenge the price on one item. Then she whines that another item was $4 dollars less last week and she missed the sale because she sprained her wrist working at the soup kitchen and couldn’t they just honor last week’s price? Next, she holds up the third item to claim that, although it rang up $12, the sign said it was $7. Then I hear those two little words that make the hair stand up on the back of my neck: “price check.” That’s 20 minutes of my life I’ll never get back.
Maybe people should just cut the chit chat, too. When a cashier says “how are you” it’s just a rhetorical question. She doesn’t really want to know about the wart on your foot or your cousin Sheila’s recipe for Oysters Rockefeller or your husband’s guilty plea. She just wants you to say “good” and move through the line as quickly as possible, without incident.
There ought to be a law about shoppers who refuse to come into the 21st century. My opportunity for quick getaway at the grocery store is often dashed when the person ahead of me pulls out a checkbook, proceeds to ask the date, fills out the check with penmanship that would make Mrs. Schwartz proud and takes adequate time to ensure his signature is a work of art. Another 15 minutes down the drain. And if the bagger decides it’s time to go on break the minute I start unloading my groceries, I lose another five to seven minutes.
But, seriously, don’t these people know how busy I am? They should really cut me some slack. I’m pretty sure I didn’t run over that guy’s toe with my shopping cart and I don’t think I really told that kid there was no Santa Claus so I could cut through that line blocking the aisle and I would never dream of pulling the fire alarm to empty out the store. Then again, I did manage to buy seven gifts in seven minutes. Hope everyone likes soap shaped like Jesse Ventura. Hey, they were on closeout.
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