Allspice

(I know, I know. I just wrote a post about shopping at the supermarket. You have to understand that as you get older your outside activity options shrink. Go to the doctor, go shopping at the supermarket, walk the dogs, rinse, repeat.)

Yesterday Mark decided he was going to make Swedish meatballs, problem was he had no allspice.

"Is allspice really that important for making Swedish meatballs?" I asked.

Mark looked at me as if I were the most stupid person he had ever met.

"Go to Tony's Market and get me some allspice."

"Now? You want me to go now?"

"Also, get some Persian cucumbers, some dill, and a can of beef broth."

I let out a long sigh as I dragged myself out of the big, fluffy chair.

I was so proud of myself. I drove to Tony's, found all four things I needed, picked up two slices of pizza from Jimmy's Pizza, and got back home in thirty minutes. And then I looked in the bag of groceries.

"Goddamnit, sonofabitch! They didn't put the jar of allspice in the bag. The only reason I got out of my chair and drove to Tony's was the allspice. Sonofabastardbitch."

"Hmmm.. I guess you better go back." Said Mark as he stuffed a slice of pizza into his mouth.

I don't know what happened to the people of Chicago. They used to be so conscientious. Fifty years ago, when I was a bagger at Jewel, not once did somebody come back into the store complaining that something wasn't put in the bag. Never did anybody complain that the eggs were put at the bottom of the bag, or that soap was packed in the same bag as the meat. I wasn't the smartest guy shoving groceries into bags, but at least I did it right.

Anyway, I got into the car and drove back to Tony's. I returned to the aisle where I had checked out.

"Excuse me, I bought a jar of allspice and it was not in the bag when I got home."

The girl looked at me quizzically. I repeated myself.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I just came on duty."

(I have a problem with young women. They all look alike to me.)

So I turned and walked over to the service desk. I told the lady behind the counter the same sad story about my allspice.

"Yeah, you left it behind."

Up until that comment, I had put a cork in it. I had tried to keep my cool but now I lost it.

"I didn't leave anything behind," I loudly and sarcastically responded. "Your cashier didn't put my purchase in the goddamned bag."

She pursed her lips, made a face, and handed me the jar of allspice. I turned and walked towards the door, loudly cursing and bitching about having to make two trips to that store. Not one of the store employees even looked up from what they were doing. Not one customer looked at me. They didn't care, it didn't bother anybody that a customer was unhappy. Either that, or they were scared shitless of the cursing man with a small jar of allspice in his hand. I know that's how I deal with crazy people. Pretend they aren't there.