“Alright, Mother . . . you pay and I will bag the groceries.”
“Really?”
“What’s your point, Mother? All these other people are bagging their groceries. That’s how this store works.”
“I know how the store works, Maj.”
“The store owners are all . . . HEY, WE HAVE AN AWESOME IDEA! YOU KNOW WHAT WOULD SAVE US OODLES OF MONEY? IF WE DID NOT HAVE TO ACTUALLY PROVIDE YOU WITH ANY SORT OF SERVICES WHATSOEVER! SO HOW ABOUT YOU BAG YOUR OWN GROCERIES AND WE WILL JUST BE IN CHARGE OF PUTTING YOUR MONEY IN THIS REGISTER THING?”
“People are staring at you.”
“YES, IT MIGHT SEEM LIKE THE GROCERIES WOULD BE CHEAPER THIS WAY, BUT THAT WHOLE OODLE-SAVING THING IS MOSTLY ABOUT OUR OWN GREED. SO YOUR GROCERIES WILL COST ABOUT THE SAME AMOUNT AS THEY ALWAYS DID, BUT LOOK! THIS BAGGING THING IS BIG FUN! WHO WOULDN’T WANT TO BE A BAGGER?”
“Seriously, babe . . . quiet down.”
“PEOPLE HAVE LONG DREAMED OF BEING BAGGERS, BUT UP UNTIL NOW, THAT PRIVILEGE WAS EXCLUSIVE, AN HONOR PASSED DOWN THROUGH THE GENERATIONS. BUT NOW? WE HAVE BUCKED THE SYSTEM! IT’S LIKE A DREAM COME TRUE!”
“Oh my god.”
“IT’S THE END OF THE CASTE SYSTEM, MOTHER! I CAN BE ANYTHING I WANT TO BE! THE SYSTEM IS TOTALLY BUCKED!”
“I am going to pretend I don’t know you.”
“MOTHER, I DEMAND THAT YOU KNOW ME! KNOW ME RIGHT THIS INSTANT!”
“Maj, stop yelling.”
“Mother, I was just making my point in strengthy fashion.”
“Point made . . . you want to bag the groceries.”
“Yes.”
“It’s just that we have a lot of groceries, and it doesn’t really seem like a Maj sort of thing.”
“See, Mother . . . I hate when you do that. I hate when you make assumptions about what is and is not a Maj-thing. I suppose you think bagging the groceries is more a Kallan thing?”
“Frankly, yes.”
“Mother, have some faith in the Maj right this instant.”
“Alright, you bag the groceries. You want to help me put them up on the belt?”
“What am I, your slave?”
“OK, I know you are kidding me right now. Help me put the groceries up on the belt.”
“Fine. There. Happy now?”
“You put two things up . . . how about the other stuff?”
“It just never ends with you, does it? Here, I will put up some more things. Where should this box of cereal go?”
“There.”
“What about these eggs?”
“There.”
“What about all these cans? Should I put them all together? Or should I intersperse them with the produce like you seem to be doing?”
“Just put them in a group.”
“Are you going to address your faulty produce placement?”
“Maj, just put the groceries up on the belt.”
“OK, but I am going to have to bag all of these items, so when we get home and the tomatoes have been bagged beneath the cans of soup, I just want to be sure that you are able to peer into your past and see that this moment right here is when it all went awry.”
“OK, but if you’re going to be bagging all of these items, why would there be soup on top of the tomatoes?”
“Mother, once an assembly-line gets started, it’s difficult to insert intelligence. I will be bagging as things come down the belt, and there will not be time for intelligence insertion.”
“Fine. Here. I grouped all the produce. I’ll also group all the frozen food together. Good?”
“Yes, well . . . some of the frozen items might more effectively be placed with refrigerated items so that their coldness will help ensure the continued edibility of easily perishable items.”
“Maj, you bag things how you like.”
“Mother, I believe I am done helping put things on the conveyer belt. All this color and movement is disorienting. I am getting annoyed.”
“Yeah, you’re going to be fabulous at bagging.”
“Mother, bagging is different. I will be in control of bagging. I will be a whiz at bagging. You’ll see.”
“OK, hold this.”
“OH MY GOD, I KNOW YOU DID NOT JUST HAND ME A RUBBER DOOMSTICK OF CONTAMINATION.”
“It’s the divider, Maj. Put it down after I get all our stuff out of the cart and up onto the belt.”
“OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD . . . I NEED TO SANITIZE! WHO KNOWS WHERE THIS RUBBER DOOMSTICK HAS BEEN? WHO KNOWS WHERE IT HAS BEEN INSERTED? WHO KNOWS WHAT DEADLY SLOBBER TODDLER SCOURGE HAS BEEN LICKED ALONG ITS LENGTH? I NEED SANITATION! SERIOUSLY, MOTHER? SERIOUSLY? YOU BOUGHT PORK CHOPS? THE NAMES OF FOOD SHOULD NOT INCLUDE THE LITERAL ACTION USED TO SEPARATE THE PORK FROM THE PIG WHO WAS USING THE PORK AS BODY RIGHT UP UNTIL THE MOMENT OF CHOPPING! I NEED SANITATION! I WILL NOT BE EATING PORK CHOPS! I CANNOT STAND HERE AND SUPPORT THE CHOPPING! I AM STILL HOLDING THIS DIVIDER! WHY ARE YOU NOT SAVING ME? I AM STILL HOLDING THIS DIVIDER! IT’S LIKE YOU WANT ME TO DIE, MOTHER!”
“Here, Maj. Here’s some sanitizer.”
She extends her palm, “I need more, Mother. I need to decontaminate this entire rubber divider.”
“Here.”
“WHERE ARE YOU GOING? WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THIS DIVIDER THING? YOU ARE JUST GOING TO LEAVE ME HERE AND ASSUME COMPETENCE? I DO NOT HAVE THE ASSUMED LEVEL OF COMPETENCE!”
“Maj, I am moving along so that I can watch the items be rung up. It’s our turn. I’m paying and you’re bagging. So put the divider down and then move to the end of the aisle. Bag the groceries.”
“I LIKE HOW YOU ASSUME I WILL BE ABLE TO DISPENSE WITH THIS DIVIDER JOB AND JUST MOVE ALONG TO THE NEXT TASK. I AM NOT SMOOTH, MOTHER! I DO NOT TRANSITION SMOOTHLY! YOU KNOW THIS!”
“Look. The groceries moved along a bit . . . put the divider down.”
“Here?”
“Yes.”
“Did I do it right?”
“Yes, that’s fine.”
The woman standing behind Maj in line reaches to pat Maj on the shoulder, and she says, “Good job! You put that divider down perfectly!”
Maj recoils from the woman’s touch and from her words, and she hurries to my side, “I believe there is something wrong with that woman, Mother. Did you see that she touched me? Did you hear how she spoke to me?”
“Pretty sure she thinks there is perhaps something a little wrong with you as well.”
“WHAT? THAT IS OUTRAGEOUS! THAT WOMAN NEEDS TO MIND HER OWN BUSINESS AND NOT BE ALL JUDGING COMPLETE STRANGERS! SHE IS MENTALLY HANDICAPPED, I BELIEVE.”
As for the bagging?
A story for another day, perhaps.
Suffice it to say that on the way out of the store, there is this from Maj . . .
“Mother, I need a T-shirt that says in big giant letters . . . I DO NOT HAVE THE ASSUMED LEVEL OF COMPETENCE . . . I believe such a clear apparel announcement would help smooth my way through some of my more awkward situations.”
“I may actually order you such a shirt, Maj.”
Maj turns to look back into the store, “Yes . . . because that, Mother?” She gestures back into the store with a weary hand, “That was a straight-up debacle.”
Seriously.
