Anyway, since I have not had a whole ton to do I have spent my days vacuuming to punk rock music, washing dishes like a champ, giggling at all the lovely things my crock pot can do, organizing ACUs, and shopping- what I do best.
As hard as I have tried to think of a way to phrase this, without sounding too much like a stepford wife nor formerly deprived and starving college student, I don't think I can avoid either. Here it goes- It is so nice to be able to afford food. I'm not even talking about that one crappy brand of cereal on managers special and a half gallon of milk (almond milk if I was ever so fortunate).
Nowadays I am spending quite a bit of time at the commissary buying things like chicken, steak and salmon. Yes, fish. It's like a dream.
Due to the way I cook and Brandon eats and the size of our kitchen I find myself needing shopping for some form of food nearly almost everyday. Since I now have my military ID, the commissary on post has made this much easier.
For those of you that don't know "commissary" is just a fancy word for a grocery story on a military installation. For the most part it is nothing out of the ordinary except you need an Id to buy anything and the ever so magestic presence of the line of anxious baggers.
Typically the job of a bagger is one for a teenager. Just a simple, put things in bags and push them out to a car, in hopes for a tip. Sounds pretty simple eh? Not so much.
The problem comes in scenarios like one I ran into yesterday. See, the baggers at our commissary are not teenagers, but full grown adults and even some senior citizens. They do not get paid hourly so they are counting on your tip as their only way to make money. I have a few issues with this.
One- I am strong enough to push a cart full of groceries 100 yards to my car. If I am capable don't you think that the strong soldiers behind me are? These men and women are out doing rigorous PT everyday but need someone to push a cart? Then bombard you with eagerness for a tip. Great rescource for the retiered vets who visit the store but honestly, the vast number of these people and their persistence might even feel a little insulting to our fit active duty soldiers.
Two- You're older than me. Why would I ever be okay with sending some little old grandma to my car with a cart full of Gatorade cases, for her to just break her back? No, I should be pushing your cart. For free.
Three- Guilt trip. Yes, I know this is the only way you make money but I have a moral compas and was taught to be a hard worker. I want to help these people out but I also don't want to strut down the parking lot like a total snob while grandma does all the hard work.
So here we get to yesterday. Since I frequent the commissary, I'm usually only going out of there with two or three bags. I can usually get away with quickly paying and politely saying "no thank you, I've got it", grab my stuff and make for the door. Well yesterday, I was faced with pure determination.. from a little old Asian lady. I was doing my thing, struck up a little conversation with the cashier and was getting ready to make my move but before I even finished paying, the little old Asian lady had loaded my three bags into her cart and she was headed through the door! I didn't even get a chance to say no, she just made off with my groceries! I panicked for a minuet, not knowing where all the food I just bought was, so I quickly signed for my card and ran for it. I literally had to chase this old woman down in the parking lot. She may have looked pretty run down but was she fast!
Honestly, my emotions were kinda torn. I was actually pretty angry that she just ran off with my stuff without even giving me a chance to say yes or no. But on the other hand, if she was that desperate for a $5 dollar tip, that she had to hijack peoples carts, times must be really hard.
Of course in the moment I didn't really think of the latter so I chased her down and said "please, I've got it". She looked pretty sad but I was also pretty angry. Halfway out to my car she had us both turn around, go back in the store, transfer my stuff to another cart and then she left me alone and that was that.
It really was the most strange experience. I am conflicted about the whole situation. Either way, I am too prideful on both sides and I'm not sure what to do about it. Yes, Brandon and I are fully capable of pushing our own cart. No, I don't want to look like a snob throwing grandpas backout, but I also know they obviously need the money.
The struggle is real and it something I'll have to face every time we are out of eggs and toilet paper.
But for now, it makes a pretty funny story.
