Chico’s Most Wanted

The Scene: CKD is at Safeway, having been dispensed there to procure two 20lb bags of ice for our Mega-Cooler of Beer in preparation for house guests.

The phone rings and I answer; it’s a local call, but I don’t recognize the number.  Turns out, my online application for a local company has generated some interest.

“Do you have a few minutes to talk?” the nice woman on the other asks.

Unable to hear a damn thing because apparently it is Inordinately Loud People and Overhead Announcements Day, I reply, “I’m so sorry, but I’m in a store and can’t quite hear you.  I will be home in 5 minutes and can call you right back if that’s OK.”

“No worries!  I’m about to take off for the day.  How about we chat tomorrow morning?” I manage to hear through children’s wails and employees shouting across lanes.

“Perfect!”

Buoyed by the potential interview, I bound on over to the checkout lanes, pay for my ice and realize that – whoops – I forgot to check and see if my brand of hair spray is sold there. 

“Um is it OK if I go back to look for something I forgot?  I don’t really want to leave this ice in my car…” I ask the checkout girl.

“Sure, no problem!  Just keep the receipt handy.”

I head back, no dice and push my cart toward the door.

It won’t move.  It’s like I’ve hit something and it WILL NOT MOVE AT ALL. 

People pass me and stare as I helplessly, frantically, idiotically try to move the fucking cart I mean sweet Jesus what the hell?

“Oh, the wheels are locked up,” a kid just outside the door helpfully observed.  “It means you stole something.”

“I didn’t steal anything!  I have my receipt!” I babble as a manager comes toward me with a tiny remote.  I begin panicking that this will go on my permanent record and wonder why I don’t keep my former teachers who were nuns on spedd-dial to give character references on-demand.

“Ok, Miss, you’re all set,” the manager tells me as he clicks the remote at the wheels.  “Sorry for the mistake.”

“Here’s my receipt!  It’s just two bags of ice!” I continue babbling as he walks away.

To say that I hauled ass to my truck is an understatement.

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