Mar 12 2008

Not one of us.

Published by at 3:18 pm under Health,Stupidity

First of all, I still don’t know what I’m allergic to. My doctor said there’s no point in doing tests right now, since the reaction hasn’t reoccurred. He said if I have another reaction then we can probably go ahead with the tests, but so far it looks like it was just a freak thing, and he didn’t want me spending $500 – $1000 on tests that might not even tell us anything. I’m okay with that.

I decided to stop at the small grocery store in this town while I was there. I used to work at this store – it’s the place I referred to in early posts as “the concentration camp”. I haven’t been in there since The Man and I moved to our current house, but since it was right there and I only needed a few things, I went in. As soon as I walked in the door, I started regretting my decision. Just the smell of the place was enough to bring back bad memories and I started to feel very tense. I wanted to get in and out as quickly as possible, but I’d forgotten how totally asinine the layout of this place is. I had to double back several times because I couldn’t find things. I never did find where they hide the spices. I also saw a cart with a baby in it just abandoned in an aisle. There were no adults around. I stood nearby until the stupid father came back from THREE AISLES OVER. By then I was more than ready to leave.

When I got to the checkout I remembered that this store has one of those member card programs. I do not like these programs, not because I care so much that someone is tracking my buying habits, but because if I do not want to sign up for them I have to endure some major pressure from the employee. This time was no exception. As soon as I got up to the register I was asked to produce my member card. I replied pleasantly that I didn’t have one. Without even asking, the cashier produced the application and a pen and put it down in front of me. I told her, still politely, that I didn’t want to sign up because I didn’t live nearby. She stopped scanning my purchases and picked up the card, I thought to put it away, but really it was so that she could put it in my face and point to all the other stores that the card was good for. By this time, I was annoyed, but I didn’t want to lose my temper. Then I remembered this town’s prejudice for large corporations and/or anything that hasn’t been accepted in their own community and said:

“I’m only in town for a doctor appointment, and besides, I don’t need that, because I usually shop at Meijer.”

Judging from the look on this lady’s face, I might as well have said “I play my records backwards and keep Satan in my pocketbook.” She put the application away, scanned the rest of my groceries in silence, and sent me on my way. On the way out I encountered another local who actually sneered at me when I smiled and said hello to her.

I need to remember how much I loathe dealing with the locals in this town before I make a decision to shop there again.

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