I don't think I'm alone when I say I dread the trips to the supermartket. Getting the cart makes me beyond miserable. So I just try to get in and get out. I would even prefer to go every day with a basket to avoid that big grocery cart shop. Cut to last Friday evening. All three kids and it was a cart day no getting around it. Exhausting. So at check out I'm already over the whole thing but when I start unloading my cart my checker wasn't checking anything. It was like he was waiting until everything was out of the cart before he would start checking me out. My face got hot. The kids got even more restless. When there was no more room on the belt this transpired..
Me: Hey, (no you can't get gum!) there's no more room, can you start ringing me up?
Chandler: You could squeeze in a few more things.
Me: (Jack please stop screaming and Lulu you can't cartwheel in the aisle!) Are you going to make me put everything on this belt before you start to ring me up? Is this a slow form of torture?
Chandler: You know what's torture is working at a supermarket when you're hungry. Don't ever work at a supermarket when you're hungry.
Me: Deal. I won't ever do that.
When he finally rang up the last of my items he asked if I was taking stamps to win a casserole dish. I said no so he took my receipt, looked around for a pen and scrawled on it like someone cares. With a scratchy and his signature.
I can't get those minutes back.
That is Chandlers sig on my receipt