I’ll bag my own, missy.
I really loved this discussion over at Big A little a earlier this week, never guessing I’d have my own situation to discuss so soon afterward.
So yesterday I was at Safeway, buying my corporate organics (the farmers market didn’t have mozzarella for my homemade pizza, for example, and even though Barbara Kingsolver makes her own, I’m not at her level yet, either as a writer or as a cheesemaker).
The university here is starting up again on Monday, which means the grocery store was filled to the guts with returning college students. And one such student, a lovely young woman dressed like Paris Hilton as they all are these days despite Paris’ criminal record, decided that even though I only had ten items on the conveyor belt ahead of her, things weren’t moving quickly enough.
Our bagger had stepped away to help at another station, so next thing I know young Paris has slipped behind me and started bagging my groceries.
“I’m in a super hurry.” She was touching my organic olives. And the yeast. And my cheese.
When I finally got past the shock, I managed to say, “Uh, I’ll bag my own.”
But she wouldn’t budge. Because maybe I looked like I wasn’t qualified or something. So I had to say it again, more forcefully. “I’ll bag them.” And I moved into position to take over.
Let me be clear: I’ve bagged plenty of my own groceries over time. I don’t have some elitist attitude that only Union baggers should handle the job. But maybe sometimes I don’t mind standing there, spacing out because I deserve the mental break for a few minutes while we wait for the assigned person to return to the job.
So it’s not exactly Kelly’s situation of the rude person gabbing on her cell phone, holding up the line of shoppers. This was someone volunteering to help speed things along. Which might seem like a nice thing, objectively.
But is it wrong that it got my hackles up? I mean, what if I’d been buying tampons or People or dental floss? Talk about personal!
The discussion line is now open.
Technorati Tags: Etiquette Lessons For Modern Times
August 18th, 2007 at 6:33 am
Eww.Eww.Eww.
I’m sorry, but this is RUDE. You weren’t on the phone, you weren’t holding up the line.
What if she had broken a jar of olives and created more mess and chaos? Did the cashier say anything?
Let me just say that I am so happy I teach at a college where girls DO NOT dress like Paris Hilton. (We don’t have fraternities and sororities, which may help.)
August 18th, 2007 at 6:45 am
Um, I think it was me (over at Kelly’s original post) that suggested “helping” a slow, cellphone-talking customer with her groceries to embarrass them into ending the call. So let me just say for the record that I DO NOT endorse this kind of “help.”
Now, on the other hand, when two frat boys grabbed the bookcase out of our van yesterday and carried it up four flights of stairs to my daughter’s dorm room, I took back every bad thing I’d ever said about fraternities. (And I would’ve done the same for Paris Hilton, too…if she’d have carried it. Well, maybe I would’ve mixed up the floors and had her go up and down a bit first.)
August 18th, 2007 at 7:19 am
I love Kelly’s etiquette questions. Nice to see I’m not the only one who wonders…
This would have irked me enough to say or do something. Food carries over to personal space for me, especially since I have a severely food allergic child. The fewer people who handle my food, the better. Less chance of bruised fruit, smushed bread, ripped packages of food. Plus, I’m always thinking about cross contamination and cleanliness issues.
August 18th, 2007 at 7:19 am
WWAD?
Annette taps her foot impatiently, thinking somewhere, right now, there is a latte to be had.
But NO. Fleece Girl needs organic food for her weekly freakishness. So here she stands in line, glowering at the zit faced pimply boy who is thoroughly in need of an ass-whooping for going to help another register where he can flirt with the checkout girl, rather than do his job.
Fifteen minutes, she thinks. Fifteen minutes and there’ll be a Starbucks drive-thru, so, no one here has to die.
The slack-jawed retiree checkout person stares at the organic motz, trying to figure out where the barcode is, when Annette feels a whoosh of air behind her.
A teeny bopper with Princess written across the ass of her pink sweats, which is reason enough for death, is touching Annette’s groceries.
Fifteen minutes. She thinks. Must not kill. At least that’s what the pansy therapist keeps suggesting.
“Ahem. What are you doing?” said Annette. Must not kill princess.
“I’m in a rush,” said Princess, dropping the heavy block of organic cheese on the soft whole grain bread.
Annette grabs Princesses’ left hand, bending back those manicured fingers until the wrist cracks with a sharp POP.
Annette slams the girl’s head into the bagging table and kicks the mewling Chihuahua into the pharmacy desk.
In a fluid movement, Annette hauls the girl up by the sweatpants until they say Pris and tosses her onto the conveyor belt, which propels a jug of milk into Pris’s head. Repeatedly.
“You touched me,” cries Pris.
“Touched you?” said Annette.
Annette delivers a sharp blow to the solar-plexus, popping Pris’s mouth open, kicks the jar of organic olives into the air and shears off the cover with a lighting fast karate chop, grabs all the flinging organic olives and jams them into Pris’s mouth and nose.
“Suck on that,” said Annette.
Annette walks out in search of her latte.
August 18th, 2007 at 8:13 am
Patrick, you nailed it. Sigh, why can’t I be more like Annette?
Sara, what outstanding frat boys! Yes, behavior like that could change your mind. Of course, I’m sure it helps that your daughter is probably as gorgeous as you are.
Vivian and Kelly, I felt like I should have said something, but it was another one of those times when I was so shocked I couldn’t find my words. Phrases that came to mind were, “You know, that’s totally rude,” or some such other motherly advice. But then the censor inside said, “But she IS just helping you out.” Errg. What was the appropriate line there?
August 18th, 2007 at 8:39 am
OK, I’ll say it: I like the way Paris Hilton dresses. I also like to stand at the counter and space out for a few minutes while someone else bags my weekly groceries, so I don’t care who it is baggin’ as long as it’s not me-heck, I would have asked her to carry them to the car too!
August 18th, 2007 at 8:39 am
I don’t have PRINCESS written on the ass of my yoga pants, but I do have a large butterfly on my butt.
OMG. Please don’t tell me I’m one of those girls…
But to answer your question, I would have completely freaked out and caused a scene. I lean toward the germaphobe side, and it is difficult enough to let the actual employees bag my items, much less a stranger that may or may not have washed her hands.
August 18th, 2007 at 8:46 am
I don’t think Annette should have kicked the dog! The dog is a victim like the rest of us.
Robin, that was highly rude. You have every right to get those hackles up!
August 18th, 2007 at 8:51 am
Everyone in the dorm that day was charming and polite. Even when we were all sweating and trying to pass each other on the narrow stairs. Really, it’s not how I remember the dorm at all. I remember jocks throwing refrigerators off the balcony because they thought it was funny, and the elevator being trashed and broken every Saturday/Sunday morning. What’s gotten into kids these days???
August 18th, 2007 at 8:52 am
You were well within your rights to stop Little Spoiled Missykins from bagging your stuff,Robin. For one thing,bagging up grocery goods is no casual activity-what if she had put something heavy ontop of your yeast or cheese,squashing it?
Also,in some grocery stores,the baggers work for tips(they even had a tip cup out at their station in my local store)and why deny someone that extra buck or two because they went over to the next register to lend an extra helping hand(a good thing to do)and some Pop Tart Princess wants to hustle things along?
I have had bagged my own groceries(and rebagged at times)and the rule is,if you paid for them,YOU decide who gets to touch them!
August 18th, 2007 at 9:02 am
Katie -
A. A Chihuahua is not a dog
B. Annette needed a latte
C. In the edit phase, I will add in that the Chihuahua also bagged some of Annette’s groceries.
August 18th, 2007 at 3:20 pm
Ooh, BFF, if I’d been there!
I would’ve held her down while you smacked her.
Sometimes *I* bag my own groceries if I can’t wait on the slothlike perambulations of the bagger boy (who is, indeed, tossed by the winds of puberty and generally either looking elsewhere whilst he weighs down the tomatoes with the jars of olives, or else genteelly escorting one of the 80+ shoppers to his or her car), but I would have a small bovine if ANYONE touched my groceries. I know Princess was trying to be nice, but the assumptions that went into the decision to insert herself into your personal space and possessions — wow. Such self… confident (self-conceited? Self-absorbed?!)… hubris.
August 18th, 2007 at 4:02 pm
This is why I love bringing these experiences to the Hive Mind. From Deborah’s “let and be grateful!” to TadMack’s smackdown, Lady T’s practicality about tips (I didn’t think of that) to Katie and Patrick’s quibble about the canine qualifications of a chihuahua (kind of agree, P), to Heather and others’ germaphobia angle–THIS IS WHY I CANNOT LEAVE THE BLOG, PEOPLE. You are too entertaining for words.
August 18th, 2007 at 4:13 pm
HUGE LOL, Patrick, regarding Annette’s likely reaction. (I once wrote a blog post about Annette and how we were out somewhere and she sized everyone up, saying, “I could kick his ass….” “I could kick her ass…” and, of course, she looked at me and sniffed, “I could kick your ass, too.”)
But to the point at hand. The poor girl probably had one too many Red Bulls. And, you know, I’ve been to the Safeway Robin’s referring to this week, and it IS crazy busy there with new college boys and their mamas — maybe she DID have somewhere important to be, like a spray-tanning session or a mani-pedi.
AND, are we assuming that the bagger had cleaner hands?? I can just about guarantee the Union bagger I had at Safeway the other day hadn’t showered or washed his hands in quite…some…time. And are we assuming the conveyer belt hadn’t already spread crap to the food?
I’m just playing devil’s advocate, here. I would have stared at her, stunned, as well. And I would use this incident in a book sometime. But I would also have asked her what on earth was her hurry — isn’t that the most intriquing question of all, what was on her little schedule that was oh-so-important???
August 18th, 2007 at 4:16 pm
Laura, let’s not be slamming the mani-pedi. I scheduled one for myself for next Friday, since the next day I’m teaching a writing workshop for girls and want to wear a skirt and sandals, and my baby toenails are still black from backpacking. Not a very good impression to give. “Yeah, I loved her class, but her toes! Ewwww!”
August 18th, 2007 at 6:08 pm
And by the way, Laura, I read your story “loosely” based on Annette, and you got her dead right, too. She’s a scary one. And yet lovable, as we all know so well.
August 18th, 2007 at 7:36 pm
How I would have handled the situation? I suppose I would have done one of two things.
1. Tuck a $1 bill into her underwear, which I am sure was showing, and offer her $20 to carry the bag to the car. I’m fairly certain that’s the going rate for exotic baggers.
2. While she was bagging my groceries, I would place a strip of invisible remote nano-bomb tape on her gallon of milk, wait until Precious was putting her stuff into her VW and then explode the milk all over her and her car, then drive by roll down my window and thank her for bagging my groceries.
August 18th, 2007 at 10:06 pm
i’m sorry, who are we talkin’ about here “Annette” or “annette?”
August 18th, 2007 at 10:26 pm
I have GOT to start shopping at the Safeway that Robin, Laura, and Annette/annette shop at. Clearly, I am missing out-nothing like this happens at my Safeway.
August 19th, 2007 at 1:30 am
Patrick!!! Hahahaha!!! You crack me up!
And I’m petty sure that I have a pair of shorts that say “Jersey Girl” on the butt. =)
August 19th, 2007 at 8:04 am
Anything that helps the line move faster. I wouldn’t be more uptight about a random person bagging my stuff than I would about the bagger bagging my stuff.
What would bother me was the implied rudeness of “Robin isn’t moving quick enough to please me.”
However, I’m sure she was trying to help, and I’ve definitely had days where I had a gazillion things to do and was of the “if you want something done, do it yourself” mentality.
August 19th, 2007 at 9:16 am
That is rude. I’m sorry.
I am coupon queen at the grocery store. It’s fun when my total drops from $40 to $11, as it did yesterday. It’s even more fun when I walk away with free groceries. It’s less fun when they start to ring my items up with the person(s) in front of or behind me, and when I say, “Oh, those aren’t mine,” the response comes back, “Oh, they aren’t?” and/or “Aren’t you with him/her/them?” Yes, because I look young, I simply must be the daughter of whoever is next to me in line, even if we look completely different and aren’t interacting whatsoever.
August 19th, 2007 at 9:50 am
I think the problem isn’t necessarily the person touching the stuff. And I don’t think it is implied that “Robin isn’t moving fast enough.”
I can admit to having the urge to do other people’s jobs for them. I have leaned over the counter to point out which buttons to push at McDonald’s and such when there is a trainee on the register and their help has run away to flirt with the fry cook.
The implication at this point, and it is due to the size and complexity of our society, is that there is an ulterior motive. She is either taking something from me or putting something in my bag that I do not want. Or - while this person is distracting me, something else is happening.
In a small town, maybe 20-30 years ago, this wouldn’t be a big deal at all.
Just another symptom of society. No one really can trust anyone else. Good samaritans are looked upon with a wary eye.
I’m sure she was trying to help, but there is a line today. Sadly.
August 19th, 2007 at 11:54 am
I hate the return of college students. HATE IT.
August 19th, 2007 at 4:31 pm
Diana, I have only one thing to say to you: I bought your book today! Woo-hoo! Finally! I won’t read it in time for this week’s book club, but I should by next week. Yay!
Little Willow, I never thought about what that must feel like. I can see how you’d get irritated–especially if it hapens more than once.
Deborah, forget coming to my book launch party. Let’s just meet at Safeway.
Gwenda, I agree there’s a downside–the hugely increased traffic, the bigger lines at the grocery store and Starbucks (don’t even get me started on that), but I bear them no animosity overall. And it is pretty funny to see that beginning of the year parade, with everyone working so hard to look exactly like everyone else. It’s so sweet and comical.
August 19th, 2007 at 8:22 pm
Oh, I’m easygoing. I simply say, “No, I’m not,” or, “Those aren’t mine.” I tend to smile and thank others rather than roll my eyes or stamp my feet, even when they say horrible things.