Short and crabby

Checkout line of the supermarket, you hand the woman a twenty, she takes that long-ass receipt you get these days because they itemize every can of Friskies individually (might as well, it’s all going in the GIANT GOVERNMENT DATABASE anyhow, which is why I’m paying cash), folds this banner up two or three times, puts your bills on top of that, and your change on top of that and hands it back to you.

Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

See, change goes in the pocket, bills go in the wallet, receipt goes…well, who the hell cares? What, am I going to itemize my groceries on my 1040 this year? So you’ve got your wallet in your left hand, and this big dilemma in your right hand, the next customer’s cans of Friskies are already rolling down the conveyor, bumping up against your bagged groceries in the most intimate way. That big-ass receipt wouldn’t even fit in your wallet if you tried, so don’t try jamming everything in there.

My general technique is, I wedge one corner of the whole business into my wallet, just enough to hold it, tilt everything back until the change falls in my hand, pocket that, pluck the receipt off the top and do…whatever with it, and then get the bills properly en-walletted.

Wheee! That was fun!

This all started suddenly a few years ago, didn’t it? They used to put the receipt in the bag, thanks very much, and then I only had to worry about sliding the bills out from under the change. If I had to guess, I’d say some supermarket chain invented the procedure to discourage customers from claiming they didn’t get a receipt when they come back later to complain about some damn fool thing. And then they all picked it up off each other like goddamned yam-washing monkeys.

Well, I have an idea. Why not take that receipt and saw it across the back of my hand a couple of times until I get a papercut? That way I couldn’t deny I got a receipt — because, duh, I have a papercut — and you could go on and put the receipt in the bag, the way I like it.

It is a hard life being anal-retentive. Y’all have no idea.


  1. nbpundit
    Posted February 6, 2007 at 7:46 pm | Permalink

    You’re forgetting the nastiest
    natured of them all, the all the
    time pissed off badger.

  2. Posted February 6, 2007 at 7:48 pm | Permalink

    Oh, yeah? I’ll see your badger and raise you a wolverine.

    Yeah. Same fambly.

  3. Uncle Badger
    Posted February 6, 2007 at 8:28 pm | Permalink


    Hnag on, I think I’ve got one in my pocket somewhere.

  4. Enas Yorl
    Posted February 6, 2007 at 9:22 pm | Permalink

    Badgers? Badgers? We don’t need no stinkin’ badgers!

  5. Posted February 7, 2007 at 7:49 am | Permalink

    Incidentally, I suspect you mustelid-huggin’ geniuses meant to be one thread up — on the weasel fight thread — instead of down here rubbing badgers on my existential supermarket receipt rage. That’s what I get for posting twice in one day; it’s unnatural and confuses people. It’s okay, though — I have spamboy up there keeping me company on that thread.

  6. whitishrabbit
    Posted February 7, 2007 at 3:42 pm | Permalink

    Almost didn’t laugh, and then…’yam-washing monkeys’ burst the dam.

    Then the ‘why don’t you saw it across the back of my hand’ really got me laughing. Well, it was more a chortle, but I’m not gonna admit to that.

    Write every day, k? and always be funny. No pressure or anything…

  7. Posted February 7, 2007 at 5:33 pm | Permalink

    Yeah, that’s like you go to a party and your friend introduces you to someone like, “this is my friend Weasel. Weasel is real funny. Go on, Weasel — say something funny!”

    And you go, “ohhh…Ummm…I had sex with your dog.”

  8. Posted February 10, 2007 at 12:56 pm | Permalink

    I HATE how they won’t stick the damn receipt into the bag anymore. They do it because they’re frakkin LAZY beeotches who also REFUSE TO SAY THANK YOU for spending your money and creating their paychecks. “Have a nice day” is a euphemism for, “I’m too proud to thank you for your business, and my parents taught me I never have to thank anyone for anything.” Lazy, rude, punk-ass, POS oxygen thieves, these days most of the time they don’t even acknowledge you are standing in front of them. Baah! Whew, I feel much better.

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