Okay, so I wasn't really fealful or loathing, but I had a seriously awkward experience at Publix yesterday (and I've been grading responses based on a Hunter S. Thompson essay). I like to get my shopping out of the way early, so it isn't unusual for me to go in at seven in the morning. On Sunday, I luxuriated a while before going to the gocery store, so it was more like nine. The point is, there aren't many people in the store early, especially on the weekend. I did my shopping without incident -- unless you count waiting for the produce manager to come back and tell me whether any mushrooms were left; I finally gave up -- and went up front to check out. Only two lanes were open, so I chose the one that seemed to be the quicker option.
Now I should preface my story, or at least the meat of it, by saying that Publix has a benevolent policy related to hiring the mentally disabled. Of course, it's not as if they wear badges or anything, so one can't always tell, except that usually they work as baggers and some have more obvious handicaps than others. (I truly mean no disrespect here. I say it only in explanation.) One man who works here likes me a lot. He always smiles so big when he sees me and says, "Hello, my friend. I'm happy to see you." I reply in kind, saying it's nice to see him too. And then I move on. A few months ago when he insisted on helping me out to my car with my groceries, I had the uncomfortable feeling that he was working up to saying or asking something that I didn't want to hear. Since then -- and really most of the time before then -- I take my own bags out to the car. I rarely buy a lot at a time, so it's no problem.
This man was bagging in my checkout lane yesterday. He said, "I'm always happy to see you. You're so nice. I do consider you a friend." Hmm. Okay. So I mumbled something that ended with, "Likewise . . ." I should insert here that I try to be nice to everyone. It doesn't mean anything except that I prefer being pleasant over being rude. The checker asked me how my Valentine's Day had been, and I said it was okay. The bagger asked if it had been quiet. I said something to both of them along the lines of, "My sons are my sweeties and they weren't nearby." The checker laughed, I laughed, and Bagger-man said, "I'd be glad to be your sweetie." I kind of laughed, and he said, "I'm serious, and if you're ever interested, let me know." I looked at my groceries to see how many were left. I couldn't escape. To my horror, I blushed. He looked at me and said, "So cute." Lord, help me!
I politely declined his offer to help me and my groceries to my car. What was especially amusing is that before I went to the store, I had thought (and this was in the context of an upcoming party, not about going to the store) that if anyone asked me out, my first response might be, "Why?" I honestly don't know if this man is challenged, and if he is, it isn't obvious. It doesn't matter. I have no interest in going out with him. And I'm going to feel very weird about going back in that Publix.
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