I consider myself to be a pretty understanding person. I don't normally jump to conclusions, or react harshly, but sometimes I want to. Oh, how I want to.
This weekend Todd and I made a mad dash to the grocery store for some much needed items. Among these was pasta sauce for my world famous three cheese ravioli. ^__^
Now, normally we do the whole self check out thing for minimum human interaction. It saves on time and energy, and will eventually eliminate any need for cashiers. Wonderful people, I'm sure. I just have an aversion to them.
On this occasion we went to a manned check out. The lady was nice, but obviously not well. Runny nose, blood shot eyes, coughing...really gross and germy. Definitely in need of some cough syrup and a nap. But no. She's at Walmart, serving Satan!
So, we do the whole stand there, smile, pay and "have a nice night, hope you feel better" thing. Then we escape with our cart. We grab our few bags and out the door we go.
Standing next to the truck, in the cold, I wait for Todd to open the tail gate. All of a sudden the heavy bag I'm resting over my shoulder gets a lot lighter. I hear glass shattering and instantly my leg is cold and I smell the sweet aroma of Prego(with mushrooms).
Check out chick must've been doped up on some NyQuil after all. She put the ginormous jar of spaghetti sauce in a bag with a 2 liter. Smart much?! I realize I could've paid attention to her bagging expertise, but I shouldn't have to!
I laughed it off and went and cleaned up. I looked like I'd been mauled by Theo. From the knee down my right leg was covered in red. It was a gory mess.
Yes. I waltzed up to customer service and told them what happened. Yes. They replaced the pasta sauce. Yes. They apologized whole heartily, and I smiled and said things like: It's fine. It's okay. It's not your fault.
It's not fine. It's not okay. My pants are ruined and it is their fault. I even did magical-get-stain-out stuff, and there are still orange spots on my corduroys. That woman should've been home nursing that cold. Not absent mindedly bagging my groceries.
Sometimes I wish I could just be mean.