Don't Be A Complete Tool

Mr. A always goes grocery shopping with me.  Part of the reason he always accompanies me is because we carpool and stop by the store on the way home.  The rest of his purpose in escorting me through the store is to keep me from stabbing people like this in the eye:

Deaf old lady: You were in no less than 4 aisles with me.  In each of these aisles you somehow managed to park your damn cart in front of the one item I needed.  For example, if I wanted raisins, you parked your cart in front of the raisins to look at the pudding.  You studied that damn pudding like there was going to be a big test on it when you got to the front of the store.  "Excuse me please," didn't work.  You ignored me.

The Queen of Overshare: It makes sense that you would need to occupy yourself in some way in the checkout line.  You brought your 2 kids with you and they were busy chasing each other around, kicking each other and spilling their water all over the place.  I guess your only option was to turn around and talk to the girl that's trapped in line behind you.  Oh, joy.  I now know: where you live, where you work, what you do for a living, the fact that you got a ticket that morning, what you were cooking for dinner that night and about 80 other factoids that replaced useful information in my head.  I'm sure of that.

The bigger problem: You separated your groceries into 3 groups: the groceries you intended to pay for in cash, the groceries you intended to pay for with WIC vouchers and the groceries you intended to pay for with your food stamp card.  When the cashier rang up your cash items, you came up short.  You put some items back and we (eventually) moved on.  When she rang up your WIC items, you presented a couple of WIC vouchers that were no good.  Ugh.  So we finally get to your food stamp purchases.  You were 88 cents short.  Once again I had to wait while you went through and picked out an item that you could live without.

Half an hour.  This is how long I was in line behind her.  You would think after half an hour of waiting on one customer constantly blathering in her face that the cashier would be craving a little quiet time.  No, this was not my day.

Babbling Betty the Cashier: You are the biggest asshole of the night.  When you finally get to my purchases, you felt an almost desperate need to start explaining to me that you were supposed to be off work 15 minutes ago.  Less talky, more scanny asshole.  You were supposed to be off 15 minutes ago, you stayed late by 45 minutes 2 days ago.  I don't care.  I really and very, very sincerely just do not give a shit.  My silence during your tirade should have been a hint.  At the end of my transaction, a coworker walked up and let you know that your manager needed to see you when you were done.  Then I had to hear about that.  "I hope I'm not in trouble!  I mean, I don't think I did anything wrong.  She probably just wants to talk to me about my schedule...."  Ohmygodshutthefuckupandgetmeouttahere!!!!

This is why I hate the grocery store.