Huh. Brent Musberger got a job at Shoprite.

Seven children, nine mouths to feed, and very little time have turned me into a cashier snob at Shoprite.

I don’t know any of their names,

but I know their styles.

I know if they are fast or slow.

If they are friendly or miserable.

I know if they love kids,

or if they are completely irritated by them.

I know if they are going to carry on a full-blown conversation with me the entire time they are ringing up my crap,

Or if they would not recall one single physical characteristic on my face if they were asked to identify me in a line-up.

I know if they will round the number of shopping bags I’ve brought with me to the nearest 5,

Or whether they are going to count those fuckers precisely, even if it means unloading every single one of them out of the cart.

I know if they are impressed by my skilled use of coupons,

Or just really freaking annoyed.

So I choose my cashiers wisely.

But there’s also the bagger to contend with.

Some of those baggers are amazing.

They’ve got a level of spatial intelligence that makes you wonder why they are working as a bagger in the first place.

There are others who place a maximum of three items in a bag, no matter what size they are.

And then there are the ones who move at a glacial pace, especially on the days when your kid is having a meltdown of epic proportions.

So finding the right bagger/cashier combo is a bit of an art.

Yesterday, I went with the commentator/spatially gifted combo.

I didn’t mention the commentator before.

This one has something (annoying) to say about every single thing you are purchasing.

But she’s young, and she’s quick.

And she had a good bagger.

Plus, I didn’t have the volume of stuff that I usually have, so I figured I’d be able to tolerate her.

I had mozzeralla cheese, plants for the garden (a lot of them), diapers, yogurt, and cereal.

She started scanning.

And commenting.

“This is a really great price for this yogurt,” she told me.

“I know!” I said, enthusiastically.

“Ooooh. Kix! I used to love those when I was a kid.”

Ugh. She was annoying me already.

I just smiled. The yogurt enthusiasm was leaving me.

“Oh. You ‘re buying the little cheeses,” she judged.

The Judger cashier.

There’s another category I forgot about.

“They’re on sale. They’re the best deal,” I said.

Why was I defending myself to this chick?

She would last approximately 7 minutes in my house.

I gritted my teeth.

We were down to the plants.

“Whoa.  You must have a reeeeeeaaalllly big garden,” she said.

“I do.

But it’s not half as big as your mouth,”  I said.

Okay, I didn’t say that last part.

But I wanted to.

Instead I closed my eyes, pursed my lips, and exhaled.

It’s gonna be a while before I go with the commentator again.

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