This I Believe (And Then I'll Stop): One More F-Word
Do you know what a jar of Ty Ling Sweet ‘n’ Sour Sauce looks like when it’s dropped from a grocery cart at Winn Dixie? Caterpillar guts. You can take this on faith -- you don’t have to smash condiment jars or caterpillars. I’ve done both, but I didn’t mean to.
Okay, I guess I meant to smash the caterpillars, but I was only six or seven, and I was trying to scare my next-door neighbor, Daniel. “Want to see something gross?” I said. At six or seven, I appreciated rhetorical questions but not, apparently, God’s smaller creatures (i.e. Daniel; caterpillars).
I like to believe I would’ve stopped squashing bugs, even if my parents hadn’t given me the PETA book for my eighth birthday. I read PETA cover-to-cover on a road trip, in the backseat of our Volvo (want to guess my family’s political leanings? Do you like these rhetorical questions?). When we pit-stopped at McDonald’s, I ordered a Happy Meal minus the hamburger. I’ve been quasi-vegetarian ever since.
So, I envisioned the Ty Ling with Morningstar fake chicken, not real chicken, or pork, or beef, or caterpillars. But the jar rolled straight off the top of my cart, through one of the holes designed for babies’ legs. Maybe if America didn’t have an obesity epidemic, these holes wouldn’t be so big, and Ty Ling would be safe in my fridge. Can I blame chunky babies for my accident? Don’t answer.
In case you think I’m soulless baby-phobe insect smusher, I’ll attest to my deep capacity for guilt: I ‘fessed up to the Sauce crime right away. “I smashed a jar on Aisle 4,” I told an official-looking person at the front of the store. “I’m so sorry. I’ll pay for it.” See? I’m not so bad. I don’t deserve to be reincarnated as a caterpillar or a jar of Ty Ling. Right? Again, please don’t answer.
And don’t tell me “honesty is the best policy.” Policy is “you break; you buy.” Honesty is more of a suggestion, with no guarantees. “Excuse me, this ticket says ‘No cameras or video-taping equipment allowed,’ and I just wanted to tell you that I brought my Kodak. So I’m not really sure what to do.” Although this happened nearly ten years ago, I still recall the security guard’s bemused gaze. “Hey, this kid brought a camera! And she’s showing it to me!” If you want photos of the Indigo Girls’ 1995 Nashville performance, ask the Ryman security personnel.
Add “jaded“ to “soulless et. al.” That’s why I decided to post today: because the Winn Dixie official didn’t mock my truth-telling, or, in fact, ask me to pay for the Ty Ling. “Don’t worry,” he said; “We’ll clean that right up.” Was he kidding? I could’ve asked rhetorically, but I attempted mature gratitude instead. “No, thank you,” he replied. “Some people just walk away, and the stuff sits there for 20, 30 minutes.” Thank me?
It was all I could do not to weep: for the caterpillars, the busted jar, all number of sins. No, no -- thank you.
As an amendment to a previous post, then - forgiveness is another f-word that never loses its potency. Add that to the list. And if you’re making a grocery list, shop Winn Dixie.
posted by Jesse Anna Bornemann @ 8:01 PM
7 Comments:
Sage advice. I did the exact same thing a month ago at Whole Foods with a jar of Newman's Own 'Fra Diavolo' spaghetti sauce. The 'Age 4 guilt complex' came roaring back and I wondered, not if I'd have to pay for it, but whether or not I'd get in trouble.
Luckily, I did it in front of three busy bee employees who just about tripped over themsleves in an effort to get the mop and assure me that yes, this happened all the time, and no, little boy, it's O.K., you don't have to pay for it. Here, you want a Tofutti pop? Let's go find your Mommy.
Incidentally, a smashed jar of spaghetti sauce looks a lot like a smashed jar of spaghetti sauce.
Same thing happened to me last month in a 7-Eleven! Moments after filling a 44 OZ Super Big Gulp cup with Diet Coke, I knocked it off the counter and onto the floor, covering most of the aisle with soda and ice.
The clerk's emergency response was nearly immediate; he was at my side with a mop and bucket before I had a chance to flee.
Believe me, I was a mess of conflicting emotions as I drained forty-four more ounces of soda into a brand new Super Big Gulp cup. When I was done I practically ran it over to the counter. The cashier never moved so slowly.
- Andrew, first time/long time
Thanks for the solidarity, guys - I hope we can all drop foodstuffs in the same zip code one day. I'm eternally grateful we have Dixie in common.
I don't know about a 44-oz. drink....that's a little much caffeination, even for me. I like Toffuti Cuties, though.
<.Soapbox>
As the cleaner-upper (and also since I refer to myself as that, probably the reason for being one), I do truly (no sarcasm) appreciate the heads up on dropped items (coffee, baby food jars, multiple bottles of wine), particularly when they come with a sincere apology and an offer to help. I'll never take the offer to help but I appreciate that you'd be willing to help. And at least in my store, if you tell me you've dropped something my employees or I have made for you, we will be more than happy to make you a new one. I've helped clean out more than one shiny new luxury SUV as a result of spilled venti soy cappucinos. Messes happen in retail. Yours will never be the first or the last, just one in a long line of spilled/broken/dropped packages. Just remember, if you or your child spill something, don't then walk through it, jump on it, or otherwise grind it into the floor (yes, I've seen someone let their child grind a gummy snack of some sort into the floor with no recourse). Don't leave a spill because someone else could trip and fall when they don't see it (yes, that twelve pack of exploded soda covers a large amount of floor when you let it leak for several minutes everywhere). Don't purposely make a mess and fail to clean it up, particularly at self-service features, when napkins are readily available (stickiness and potential stain hazards make no one happy during a morning rush). Importantly, we'll take care of the spill but pick up after your child (put the items he/she moved back, clean up their crumbs, etc.). Also, it's important to report spilled multi-pack products because we may be able to salvage the rest of the items and donate them to our Second Harvest distributor; but, at a certain point some things are too gross and saturated to donate.
But mainly act as if you were a person working in the store where you spilled the item. Use your common sense, as Jesse did. Maybe we need a new pneumonic (sp?), DWJWD (do what Jesse would do).
And the only time the 'you break it, you bought it' rule seems to apply is in small stores. Thank the big box corporate retailer for expecting a certain number of broken items into the overhead.
And while I'm on my retail soapbox, it's absolutely rude to talk on your cell phone while you are being helped, checking out, or ordering (yes, I did ask if you wanted hot or cold and you clearly said hot so don't get angry when you get the hot drink but intended to ask for cold but were too engrossed in a pointless cell phone call that could have waited the three minutes it took to get your drink).
If you treat your retail people well, they'll almost always reciprocate with info about sales, free coupons, a smile, etc.
<./soapbox>
-A
A., I'll admit I'm guilty of talking on my cell while in check-out. Definitely not good retail manners, and I'll take your advice to heart. I also crown you the goddess of Starbucks (and grad school!) - but from one gal with retail experience to another: I hope neither of us has to use the phrase "multi-pack products" beyond our 20s.
Amen to that. I have spent way too many hours overthinking retail. -A
Those sound like Gallant musings to me!
Once at the diner I pointed out to the cashier that I hadn't been charged for one of my items, and he gave me free mini peppermint patties. I felt about 12, but it was very sweet.
-M
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