I recently returned from a near heart attack-inducing trip to the local branch of a nationwide discount store.  I took my three doughnuts (I hate it when it’s spelled DONUT), pack of hot dogs, and two boxes of corn muffin mix to an express lane (20 items or less).  I was the second person in line, so I figured I would breeze on through and be out in just a few minutes.  I should have known.  I should have known!  When has anything ever been as simple as that? 

            Apparently the woman in front of me was a teacher because she was buying school supplies in bulk.  In fact, a couple of people passed by and recognized her as such.  She thought she was being slick by putting 20 composition books and 60 folders into two boxes, but they each had to be rung up separately, so that constituted 80 items, not two.   Then there were all the pens and pencils, and pads.  Even without the two boxes there were over 20 items.  20 items or less means just that.  It can be 20 pencils or 20 TV sets, but 20 items means 20 items…and I know that if I had gone into the line with 21 items, they’d have sent me elsewhere.

            I realize that a lot of teachers have to pay for their own classroom supplies—that in itself is reprehensible, given the exorbitant sums of money our state and local governments extort from us in the name of education—and I can certainly appreciate the sacrifice.  But 20 items means 20 items!

            Finally ready to pay, the lady pulled five gift cards out of her purse.  Naturally only two of them scanned.  The hapless soul running the register was utterly baffled, scanning each card innumerable times before it finally dawned on her to call a superior, who eventually arrived and proved to be anything but.

            We were approaching the 15-minute mark at that point, but all of the other checkout lines were so full with other shoppers smart enough to avoid my line that I figured if I stepped to the back of another line, the problem with the gift cards would be miraculously solved, people would flock to that line, and I would be up the creek.

            At the 20-minute mark, the cashier said to me, “Sir, would you mind going to another line?  We’re having a problem here.”

            No kidding.  And yes, I do mind.  Expletives deleted.  I did say loud enough for any and everybody to hear, “This is ridiculous,” and went grudgingly to another line.

            I could feel my face flush.  My nostrils flared, I was breathing rapidly, and my heart was pounding in my chest.  I stepped to the other line, holding my wares and staring at the floor. Pain shot through my left arm and…what was that in front of me? 

            My eyes drifted forward to a great pair of legs.  Hmmmm.  Interesting.  I looked up to see who they belonged to and found the most adorable hourglass standing in front of me; long blonde hair and a pair of shorts and a tank top that were…revealing…yeah, that’s it.  That 80 items or less line was soon forgotten, and I settled in to enjoy the view.

            I finally got up the nerve to speak and said, “They sure like to take their sweet time, don’t they?”  The guy turned around and agreed.

            The paramedics checked me out and gave me a clean bill of health.  I hadn’t had a heart attack, but I’d given my head a heck of a whack when I passed out into the shopping cart behind me.  I called the wife and apologized. 

            I finally made it out to my vehicle with my corn meal, hot dogs, health, and very little pride.  I’d abandoned the DONUTS at the register once the chocolate began to melt.

            I went home and prepared some of Rachael Ray’s 30 Minute Meals oven-baked corn dogs for lunch.

            Why was I not surprised that they turned out lousy?

© 2007 by J.D. Lewis