I hate grocery shopping with every fiber of my being. It’s not the shopping itself I hate, it’s the people. Grocery shoppers – especially those who frequent the markets on Saturdays – are the grumpiest, meanest, crabbiest sour pusses around. The barrage of scowling faces absolutely depresses me. And that’s before we’re handed our receipts.
This past Saturday, I decided that I was not going to let the grouch goons get to me. I made a resolution to smile at every one I passed, offer a pleasant comment whenever I could, and let everybody else go ahead of me. I thought it would be a great gift to give our Blessed Mother for her capital of graces.
Yeah, well, many a good theory has failed in practical application. The only person who smiled at me was the guy I passed umpteen million times. Finally, when he smiled back a huge, lingering smile for the umpteen millionth time, I realized he’d been smiling back because he’d misunderstood my intentions. Then I slowly, ever so slowly rubbed an imaginary itch on my cheek with my left hand so that my wedding ring would flash obviously. After that, he didn’t smile back any more.
Going through the produce department, I noticed a crinkly little old lady chatting away to herself.
“Aw, poor thing,” I said to myself. “She must be so lonely, walking around the store talking to herself like that. ” I decided to go up to her and say something nice that would make her day.
“Hi, how are you?” I said pleasantly. But she just kept talking to herself.
“Um. Excuse me. This aisle a little crowded, but we’re both skinny young dames, we oughta be able to fit through together, don’tcha think?” I tried again. But she just kept talking to herself.
As I began squeezing past her, I noticed she was reaching for a cabbage that was pretty high up on the pile.
“Do you need help? Would you like me to reach that for you?” I asked hopefully. But she just kept talking to herself.
“Okay, I give. She’s not interested,” I said to the Blessed Mother. Here’s another one I’ve failed to make smile. Just as I wedged my cart past hers, the crinkly little old lady turned her head and put her hand to her ear.
“Oh, hearing aid!” I thought to myself.
Nope. It was a Blue Tooth. That little hi-tech granny hadn’t been lonely at all!