Friday, February 10, 2017

Old Wrinkled Sack

Nothing drives me crazier that seeing a bagger at the supermarket bagging groceries wrong. I can't help myself. When standing there at the checkout counter of the Jewel Store, I can't help but to want to jump in there and do it myself. Invariably I will end up bragging to the cashier about how I was a Jewel bagger back in 1966 and how they actually had a bagging class to train us. That invariably brings everything to a stop for a second as the cashier, the bagger, and Mark all look at me while thinking, "Shut up geezer." Sometimes the cashier will smirk and say, "That's nice", as she throws a can of tomato sauce in the sack, on top of a bag of potato chips. Back in 1966, all we had were paper bags. Then sometime in the 1970's they all started asking, "Paper or Plastic?". Now, besides the paper or plastic option, there is a new wrinkle. They ask you if you want any bag at all. Yes, you now have the choice to either have your groceries put in a bag provided by the store, have them put into a bag that you have brought with you, or have them just toss your purchases into the shopping cart. Yesterday I had them just throw the stuff, loose, into the shopping cart. Why? Because we aren't going to pay the goddamn seven cents that the City of Chicago has levied on each bag that you use. That's fourteen cents for double bagging. No, not gonna do it. They are already getting ten and a half percent sales tax on the shit that goes into the bag, now they want more money or you can just juggle all that stuff in your arms. I know it makes me sound cheap, but they are also about to enforce a new tax on soda. Cook County is about to start taxing you a penny per ounce. That's an extra dollar, forty four, for a twelve pack of Coca Cola. Not gonna do it. I think Chicago and Cook County are killing themselves with this crazy taxing of the little guy. I have not bought one tank of gasoline in Chicago since we have moved here. Instead I wait until we go visit Mom every week. Out there in the distant suburbs, in the land of strip malls and chain restaurants, in one corner of my home town, is Will County. Somehow Tinley Park is partially in Will County, where gasoline is forty cents cheaper, soda is not taxed, and they'll put your goddamned groceries in a bag for free. Besides, there is also a Home Goods Store in that little corner of Tinley, and nothing makes Mark happier than spending an hour roaming the aisles of Home Goods.

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