Freaking Whole Foods.
I avoid it like the plague because I don’t like the “my aura could kick your aura’s ass” attitude everyone working there seems to have. Which is fine because I don’t believe in auras anyway. And honestly? You’re no different than the guy at Albertsons, except he smiles at me even when I dare to buy meat. But they had some supplements I needed that no one else had.
I go after work because once I’m home, I’m done. Finished. Don’t ask me to do anything more than breathe or click a button on the remote. But that means I’m going shopping in my work clothes, so not only is it obvious I do grunt work for a living (heaven forbid!) but I work for the most hated company in the state.
I’m not exaggerating when I say that. I’ve had complete strangers actually say “Oh… you work for them?” To my face. With a look of disgust. Like I had no idea before now.
Anyway… one of the girls there asks if I need any help, which I think is very nice, but I don’t, so thank you anyway. She smiles and walks away, but I keep seeing her out of the corner of my eye. Now I have worked retail for more years than I care to remember, and I suddenly realize that this chick thinks I’m shoplifting! In my company uniform, no less! I know I have a rather large purse, but not anything enormous, and I make sure it’s closed before I go into stores for exactly that reason. C’mon!
I finally get everything I need. I think. The writing is so tiny and, frankly, my arms get shorter and shorter every year, but there’s no way I’m actually reaching into my purse (gasp!) for my glasses, so I’m winging it.
At the register, the total comes to Something Outrageous Dollars and 44 Cents. I hand the cashier, who insists on calling me “Baby” as she chews her gum and flashes her bedazzled faux-leather belt, 2 bills and she enters the amount into the register, which tells her my change should be $3.56. Easy enough. She pulls three singles from the drawer and lays them on top of the register.
“Baby, do you have a penny?”
Good grief. She owes ME a penny! If I give her a penny, she’ll just owe me two of them, but I’m outnumbered here, so I’ll just give her my clueless blonde look. “Um… no.”
“Oh. Okay.” Frown.
She finally opens a new roll of pennies and empties them into the tray. Then she carefully counts the coins, pulls three more singles from the drawer and hands them to me, along with my 56 cents – 1 penny and 11 nickels. Whatever.
As I leave, I see horrified looks from some of the other customers at my disgraceful outfit, the most disturbed of which look only marginally employable outside of an incense shop.
And now I’m definitely the one with the crappy aura. Argh!