I’m not the most intelligent person on the planet, but I’m not stupid, either. Perhaps my preferred way of dressing makes me look simple-minded or uneducated. I admit my gray hoodie has seen better days, but it’s my most comfortable jacket.
I stopped at a big box store last week to buy a few supplies. I bought a box of hair color, a bottle of shampoo, a bottle of conditioner, some acne medication, and a bag of black pepper potato chips. I took my small group of items to the cash register and got in line. The elderly cashier was working as fast as she could. When someone opened the lane next to her, she begged a few of us to step over.
I don’t use self-checkouts unless I have no choice. When I saw who was running the newly opened register, I wished I had rang up my own purchases and made tracks. However, by the time I saw her face, I couldn’t get out of line without making three people move. That may have made something of a scene.
The woman running the register is the one I nicknamed Talky. I call her that because she always has something to say. It’s usually something condescending or snide. She has an opinion on every subject and is often downright insulting. That day proved to be no different.
Talky rang up my acne medication and looked up at my face. She scanned my hair color and looked up at my hair. Then she picked up my shampoo and told me to be sure to keep it out of the reach of pets. I explained that my cats and dog don’t shower with me, so it would be okay. The woman actually argued with me.
As I was struggling to keep my temper leashed, she scanned my potato chips. She said, “Oh, these look good for dinner. What are you having with them?”
I nearly made a snarky reply. It was close. Instead, I took a deep breath and told her I would be dining on bologna that evening. She made a sound of derision about my processed meat and finally hit the total key so I could pay.
An unexpected dinner invitation necessitated another trip to the store the next day. I was careful to choose a cashier who was unlikely to become overwhelmed or offer unsolicited advice.
My transaction was perfectly pleasant until I heard Talky at the register behind me. She was telling some poor guy that the best way to remember to bring his reusable shopping bags was to put his wallet in them and put them in passenger seat of his car. That way he wouldn’t be able to pay unless he remembered his bags.
There are always those people who just rub us the wrong way. I think the reason Talky bothers me so much is her over-inflated opinion of her own intelligence. On the other hand, if it weren’t for annoying people like her, we wouldn’t appreciate the pleasant people in our lives nearly as much.
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