I went to town as usual on Thursday, my errand day for bank, T-Hoe's gas, post office, and Country Mart. I was actually optimistic. My very painful "good" knee that had kept me at the Mansion for several days has been feeling better. I was able to walk in Casey's to pre-pay for gas.
The bank had ONLY ME as a customer at the drive-thru, and my service was quick. No semi trucks were blocking the roads around the drive-thru mailbox. No cart was available outside by the handicap spaces at Country Mart. Just an old man on a bench. I didn't think he would appreciate me leaning on him and pushing him into the store. So I just walked. Slowly, but I was able to walk to get a cart/walker at the entrance. I was soon to find out that it had a bad front left wheel, but too late to go back for another. It was like a chocolate that I wanted to spit out, but overall, things were going well for me.
Across the back aisle, a blond gal worker darted across. Not a problem. I rarely see workers in this store moving that fast, heh, heh. At least she was doing her job. In fact, when I got up front to head toward the checkout, Blondie darted out again. This time I was really close to that aisle. I guess she couldn't hear my squeaky wheel. I managed to stop.
"Oh! Sorry! Are you okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine. It just takes me a minute to get stopped, and start up again."
Blondie went out the front door, and I proceeded to the checkout. Where a 20-something dude at the register was telling a 20-something gal standing next to him about seeing some guy explode out of a boat, legs flying. He was really fishing her in with that story, but stopped and greeted me politely. He rang up my items, and she stuffed them all in two bags. TWO BAGS! Both quite heavy. And she made no move to walk through the little gate and set them in the cart for me, like most do when two are working together. Well. They were 20-somethings. Quite self-absorbed, but not rude.
While squeaking my way out the front entrance, Blondie and another worker gal burst through the self-opening double doors. We played a brief game of chicken as the other gal was trying to control a line of three short carts. The "old people" carts, with a bin at the bottom, and a smaller one up top, but no child seat.
"Oh, sorry for that!" said Blondie. "Can I take your groceries to your car for you?"
"Thank you, but no, I'm fine. I can lean on the cart as I walk out."
On I went. Actually feeling better than the last couple shopping trips, despite a headache I had developed mid-morning. I opened up T-Hoe's rear to stow away three 6-packs of Diet Mountain Dew (still on sale), and two 12-packs of Shasta Zero Sugar Cola. I was shoving them to and fro, to prevent sliding around, intending to put the two heavy bags on the seat behind me, in case Farmer H wasn't home to help carry.
"Here. I'll take your cart back in for you when you're done." Blondie had materialized out of thin air! I guess she had been trailing me. Probably wanted to make sure her cart duties remained finished.
"Actually, I was planning to put these two bags on the back seat."
Blondie snatched them up and took them to the passenger seat. I held the cart for her to grab.
"Do you want help with that?"
"What...?"
"To close the hatch."
"Oh, no. I have my clicker. I was just distracted from my routine. But thank you so much."
"You be careful on the way home."
Okay. I got it. Blondie REALLY wanted to help me. I appreciate it. She was doing her job, and more. Maybe she just started. Maybe there's a contest with a prize to be Employee of the Month. I know she meant well.
It's just that sometimes, to get better, you have to push yourself a bit. The less I do for myself now, the less I will be able to do in the future. Just offer, then let the elderlies proceed on their own if they decline help.
Heh, heh! It reminds me of the old cartoon where a kid insists on helping an old lady across the street, and she didn't even WANT to cross the street!
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