Grandma DIDN’T get run over by a reindeer? Then why is she so cranky?

Never go to the drugstore unprepared.

Yesterday I needed emergency greeting cards of the “Yay! You’re Getting Married!” variety. But not for my sister’s wedding tomorrow, no, sir, because that would mean I am completely disorganized and never plan ahead. Which I DO and it is not MY fault that I have a SYSTEM which involves a veritable tizzy of activity the week before an event and when I get the stomach flu during that very week and Alli gets strep throat AGAIN, well, it understandably throws me off my game a bit, so just STEP OFF. By the way, if you’re expecting a Christmas card from me before Christmas rolls around, I hate to tell you this but even though I absolutely did NOT procrastinate AT ALL there was some huge mix up or something at the post office so…. But they’re coming! I SWEAR! By the New Year! I’m almost sure! But maybe later than that!

Wait. What was I talking about?

Oh, yes! The drug store. Ha, ha. I’m just joking. Like I would lose my train of thought.

So…

The drug store! Yes! There I was at the register. The cashier had just given me my change in that annoying way cashiers have of sticking the receipt and dollar bills in my hand, then piling the coins in this precarious heap on top of them, all “HaveanicedayMayIhelpyou?” Of course I panicked because I’d been summarily dismissed and the next person in line was pushing me out of the way but I still hadn’t put my money away because there were COINS on top of my BILLS and the coins needed to go into my coin purse before I could get to the bills because I obviously couldn’t put my bills in the nifty bill holding part of my wallet until I made sure all the presidents were present and facing the same direction, now could I? And hello? The damn receipt should have just GONE IN THE BAG because, seriously, what was I supposed to do with it? It does not BELONG with my change. Honestly. It is most inefficient. And not all of can just shove our change– bills, coins, receipt, the whole shebang!– into our pockets, all willy-nilly-like, are you LISTENING retailers of America?! I’m sick and tired of being oppressed by the Man. Coins first. That’s all I ask. Coins FIRST.

Anyhoos, as I scooted to the side of the register to organize my money into a pretty stack of ascending denominations, the older lady– a senior citizen– approached the cash register, clutching two boxes of Triscuits to her chest.

“Is there a stock person I can talk to?” she asked in a terse, snippy way that fully captured my attention.

Uh-oh, I thought, and slowed down my sorting activity. I had a front row seat after all.

The cashier summed up the situation. “I think so,” she said pleasantly. “Do you need more?” She directed a pointed look at the Triscuit boxes.

The senior stepped forward with THAT look in her eyes. You know the one. This was going to be FUN.

“No,” she retorted, “I want fresher!”

Aaaaand there it was.

The cashier’s face took on that almost hopeless, hunted look an animal gets when it is backed into a corner. Do you know it?

Then… Oh crap! I thought, seriously rethinking the whole I’m Just Going Jogging So I Am Entitled To Some Slack In The Area Of Personal Hygiene stance I took that morning. Is this a sting?! Is she with Consumer Alert?! Dateline?! Part of a Senior Citizen Watchdog group?! ARE THERE CAMERAS?! But I quickly dismissed the idea. I mean, would any lady in her right mind dress herself in those bright yellow sweat pants if she were going to be on television? I think not.

Then, quick as a flash, she leaned over the counter and thrust one of the boxes of Triscuits in that hapless cashier’s face. THRUST it, I tell you! “See this pull date?” she said, pointing one wrinkled, but neatly manicured, finger at the top of the box. “It’s in TWO WEEKS!” She tapped the top of the box, two rapid rifle shots of the “so there!” variety fired point blank at the cashier. Tap! Tap!

It is a testament of my maturity and self-control that I was JUST able to stop myself from blurting out the first thought that came into my head (it also helped that it was early in the morning and my meds were in full effect). “Lady, if you want fresh Triscuits, then don’t buy them at the freaking DRUGSTORE. Look outside! See that big building across the street? The one with the giant S followed by AFEWAY? That is what’s called a SUPERMARKET. Look into it!”

The cashier quickly paged a stockboy (poor sucker), the lady stormed off in all her righteous almost-expired Triscuit glory, and I breathed a sigh of relief because I had dodged a bullet, for sure. Don’t mess with grandma’s Triscuits, you know what I’m saying? Phew!

I learned my lesson, that is for darn certain. Never go to the drugstore unprepared. Be fully bathed, dressed, coiffed, and medicated, or some cracker-craving old lady might just kick your ass.

Just so you know.

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