Mrs. Hillbilly Mom just about blew a gasket in the checkout line at The Devil's Playground this morning.
My favorite line has been closed for two weeks. The one down on the end, where they have now put a corral of self-service checkouts. Oh, my line is still there. But it has no checker. It's dark. So I go on down to the middle checkouts, and pick the one with people with the least-full carts. Or people without kids grabbing at things and gooning at me like I have two heads.
Today I found myself behind my sister the ex-mayor's wife's best friend and neighbor. We chatted to pass five minutes. Then the one customer ahead of her was done. She moved up and put out that rubber divider thingy. She didn't have much at all. I had a good 3/4 of the conveyor open to fill with my stuff. I had most of it out, only a loaf of french bread, a bag of wheat rolls, two bags of broccoli/cauliflower/carrots, and a bag of celery left in the top child-seat portion of my cart. I turned to put them on, and
THERE WAS A RUBBER DIVIDER THINGY RIGHT BEHIND MY GROCERIES!
A rude dude behind me had somehow snared that divider, which is usually up by The Devil's Handmaiden, her neglecting to bump it down, and had plopped it at the end of my order and was piling his items on that conveyor. Except it WASN'T the end of my order! I still had a loaf of french bread, a bag of wheat rolls, two bags of broccoli/cauliflower/carrots, and a bag of celery to fit on there.
I grabbed that rubber divider thingy, mumbled, "I really wasn't done putting my stuff on yet," and shoved all his stuff back from whence it had come. To create room for my loaf of french bread, bag of wheat rolls, two bags of broccoli/cauliflower/carrots, and bag of celery.
I moved up by the carousel, so TDH could scan the two four-packs of strawberry water we bought for Farmer H, and the 12-roll pack of Charmin Ultra Strong that were in the cart. I picked up the bags as The Devil's Handmaiden filled them, and put them in the cart.
Rude Dude encroached on my personal space. On my consumer space. He was already past that card-scanner doodad. I was planning how to strong-arm him back away when TDH said, "That will be $101.42." I reached into my shirt pocket for my debit card, and
MY POCKET WAS AS BARE AS OLD MOTHER HUBBARD'S CUPBOARD!
Well. Except for my shopping list on half a note card (The Pony having the other half, like that turtledove necklace in Home Alone 2: Lost in New York), and my pen.
"Oh! I forgot my card in the car. My son will run get it. PONY! Here are the keys. Run get my checkbook out of the car. It will just take a minute. We're parked on the end." Yes. We had a prime parking spot. And The Pony was only feet away playing a killing game in the game room. So it was no big deal. The checker didn't even have time to hang a new stack of bags on an arm of her carousel.
Okay. It took more than a minute. But less than two. The Pony galloped up with my checkbook, and I withdrew that debit card in one slick motion. I had to elbow Rude Dude out of my way to scan it. He was really annoying. He kept standing there, his nose in my business and my PIN entry. So I scanned the wrong side of the card. Just to mess with him. Because having to wait for me to get my card wasn't enough punishment. "Oh. It's not working. Hm. Maybe that was the wrong side." I scanned it the right way. I could feel waves of pissed-offedness emanating from his pores. Too bad, so sad.
It was the perfect day to forget one's debit card! Even Steven was looking out for Mrs. Hillbilly Mom this morning.