LOOK AT ME WHEN $'M TALKING TO YOU!!

“Checkout-counter rage.” Folks, it’s just a matter of time before this phrase becomes part of the English language lexicon.

When I place the Babbo cleanser, the 15-pound bag of dried dog food, and the three-roll economy package of paper towels on that conveyor belt, I’m aware that these items are purchased by the sweat of my brow, working weekends, nights, sometimes cutting my Thanksgiving holiday short, frequently missing family gatherings, and almost always having to turn down friends’ invitations to breakfast or lunch.

So when I hand my legal tender to Chantilly the clerk, I’m wanting some signal of “Thank you for choosing our store to shop in’: a nod, a fleeting glance, a glimmer of a smile.

I might as well be wearing Harry Potter’s magic cape that makes one invisible. I stand unseen as Sha-nay-nay pops her gum, inspects the lacquer on her seven-inch nails, then watches something fascinating happening above my head, behind my back, over my shoulder, or even out the front door and across the parking lot. And just when I think I’ve come back into view to her, she leans over to yell at Ray Jay three aisles down, checking to see how that date with Bekkka went last night.

The sales clerks are a real buzz kill to the thrill of shopping. The aggravation over being disregarded can last for hours and it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. Sometimes the only way I can get rid of that taste is by eating some cake. Hey, speaking of cake . . . .

Cake Comments:

“Forget about cutting prices! Just cut me a piece of that cake!” enthused on fan.
“These Small But Tall cakes put me in the Express Lane to happiness,” a customer gushed.
“One taste of this cake and you’ll be getting that Winn-Dixie feeling,” vowed an ardent patron


Cake Fact:

One cake should feed 12 employees of the month or 15 associate store managers.