Iowa is currently under a foot of snow, so more specifically, our driveway and sidewalks are under a foot of snow. While we did make a rookie mistake buying a corner lot, we did pretty well in the 'neighbors across the street' lottery. The gentleman across the street has cleared our driveway and sidewalks for us at least once every single winter. Because of the way my mother raised me, I make cookies for him every year as a thank you. Because I am not my mother, I don't always have the staple ingredients on hand, so I had to venture to the store to pick up several things necessary for cookie baking.
After trekking all over the entire store to get the ingredients and cute bags to deliver the finished product in, I searched each of the 22 checkout lanes in the hopes of finding an open one besides the express lane.
After trekking all over the entire store to get the ingredients and cute bags to deliver the finished product in, I searched each of the 22 checkout lanes in the hopes of finding an open one besides the express lane.
Of the four open lanes, ONE of them had less than seven people in line. Willing my blood pressure numbers to stay below that of the gross national debt, I forced a smile onto my face and began a 15 minute wait behind five other patrons.
When I finally reached the conveyor belt and began placing my items upon it, I was greeted by the cashier. Something that I feel is important to the ensuing event is that I have an unbelievable knack for being held conversationally hostage by employees of the businesses that I frequent. Like the waiter at Red Robin who told me, in detail, all about his online dating show (true story), or the host at Buffalo Wild Wings who insists on telling me about his girlfriend and his cat every single time that he seats us (also a true story). Ryan has perfected the head down/no eye contact move so that these people leave him alone, but I must look too inviting, because I was roped into another uncomfortable and uncomfortably long conversation today (another true story):
As Judgmental Janet (like a Chatty Cathy, except a jerk) (and name has been changed so I don't get sued) greeted me, she didn't opt for the traditional small talk 'hello' that most cashiers go for. Her first words to me were 'Did you see how much wine that couple in front of you just bought?!' I uttered out a 'No' as I was tensely hoping this was the beginning of a math problem (literally the ONLY time you will ever hear me hope for this). Without missing a beat, Judgmental Janet went on with 'They SAID they were using them for cooking, but I bet they are drinking some of them, too!'
At this point, I'm trying to direct one eye to the couple who had just left with the reported plethora of wine (without trying to be rude, they looked plenty old enough to legally purchase whatever kind of alcohol they desire), and one eye to the conveyor belt, praying that my items were close to bagged so that I could flee. Then I remembered that I wasn't in the express lane - I was in the take my time and gossip about the customers who just left line.
Trying to find a way out of this conversation, I casually mention that a lot of great cooks use wine when preparing sauces and other tasty dishes. Instead of finding an exit from this lovely little chat, Janet took my comment as an invitation to a sermon. I'll spare you the details, but from my lips to God's ears, the CASHIER at a store then said to me, 'The Bible says that Jesus turned water into wine, so if you're not Jesus, you shouldn't be allowed to drink wine.' The smart aleck in me wanted so badly to ask her where she went to seminary, but instead, I just looked at her completely dumbfounded. "Oh you're not a Christian?' she asked. Again, my sarcastic side was dying to come out, but my completely mortified side won out and I sharply said, 'No, I am a Christian. I just don't believe drinking is a sin'.
I kid you not, this woman then IMMEDIATELY picked up the bag of m&ms I bought for the cookies and said 'Are you preparing early for Valentine's day? There sure is a lot of sugar in your cart.' So she's a cashier, a theologian, and a nutritionist - my lucky day! I mumbled something about thanking a neighbor, but she was just glaring at me with those judgey eyes. The irony of this whole incident is that plan A was to buy our neighbor wine as a thank you, but we don't know him well enough to know if he prefers red or white, so we went with cookies. I can only imagine what ol' Janet would have to say about wine AND cookies!
