At least once in your life, you will hear a crying child in a grocery store. Whether they are tired, spoiled, or just plain grumpy, their cries will ring throughout the store like warning sirens in the streets of WWII. I have family members who have it so bad, they have left their potential purchases in the shopping cart in the middle of the store. Too exhausted to care, they take their screaming child out of the store not only for their benefit but to the silent cheers of the rest of us.
Yesterday, I noted a small child having a tearful discussion with his father about the fact that he wanted to purchase chips and icecream. It was in the frozen isle (no, not the toy section, its a little boy here, leather jacket and dad had fishing gear…obviously NOT a boy into girly things) and the box of Popsicles the child was holding was as wide as he was. He had to of been about 2 or 3 years old. When our Number 7 was just beginning to talk, he liked to point out the screaming child or baby when we were out and about. “Mommy, that baby is mad!” Upon looking at this teaful toddler, I fondly remembered those discussions and looked at our Number Seven and patted his head.
“What is it mom?”
“Oh nothing. Just remembering how adorable you were and still are.” (Insert mother to son grin. Insert son to mother grin.)
We went about our shopping and I didn’t think about that child anymore. Until we got to the register. Apparently, the discussion was ongoing because the toddler still grasped the Popsicle box and the father was like “Only one! Only one!” Giving in, the father beckoned to the child to come to the register with the beloved frozen treats and he placed them on the counter for purchase. Not satisfied, the child kept crying and mumbling something unintelligible. All the while, the cashier (one of the regulars that we like at this particular store, and usually quiet) was ringing up the fathers purchases and placing the items in the bag. As space permitted, I began putting out purchases on the counter. When there were about 2 items from the fathers purchases left on the counter, the cashier stepped back and threw her arms up in the air. She began to loudly yell “I want money! I want money! I want a raise! I want to win the lottery! I want to go home!”
This woman is a little short aisan motherly type. I had never seen her act like this before and she has been working at this store longer than our middle child has been on this planet! Immediately after her rant, management appears out of nowhere with a fresh cash drawer and another cashier. The child immediately shuts up and I am about to sit on the floor crying. I am laughing so hard at the whole scene. The father of that child? He is just calmly standing there waiting for the cashier to finish her rant so he can complete his transaction. It appeared that to him, nothing was out of the ordinary. I on the other hand, was laughing so hard, I believed I was going to pass out. I had expelled all my oxygen laughing hysterically at the scene that unfolded before me. You know me, I immediately pulled out my phone and snapped a picture of the cashier. By this time, she was leaned over the counter attempting to talk some sense into this child who I note was glaring at me from behind his fathers knee.
After the father and son left, I congratulated the cashier on her handling of the situation because it apparently did the job. Upon saying that, she looked at our two boys and said, “OK, who do I get to have fun with next?” I know she was being funny but our boys were still bewildered and unaware that she said anything at all. They were still trying to figure out what was going on. When we are in the store, we like to pop the bags open to help the cashiers in bagging our groceries. It shows respect for them and provides an understanding that we know they have a tough job. The boys get into it because they like to help with “jobs” when they can. (They are such little men, I love it! Ah, but I digress.) So, our number seven, the crying baby finder, popped the bags for the cashier as she bagged our purchases. She noticed the job he had done and looked at him and said “Well, you did a good job! Maybe I can adopt you!” Cal jokingly told her she could have him on the weekends to which she replied “No, I only need him Monday through Friday.”
In hindsight, I knew what she meant. She wanted him to be a bag popper for her. She only works Monday through Friday.
Kids and cashiers. Making your shopping experience unforgettable since the invention of the supermarket in 1916. (Thanks Bing! You make me sound so smart sometimes!)
What do YOU think?