The check out line

I embarrass myself on a daily basis. Sometimes my big mouth gets me in trouble, especially when I think I’m being funny. Sometimes I’m clumsy, capable of knocking an entire string of kindergartners over like dominoes. Lately, it’s been my lapsing memory.

Today’s incident: standing at the grocery checkout, pinning the squirrely six-year-old to the counter with my thighs in order to avert the great escape, digging for my wallet as the final items slide across the scanner . . . my stomach started to do little twirlies. “Auggie, remember when you were looking for quarters? Did you take anything out of my handbag?” “No, Momma, why do you ask?” “ Well, son, here we are with a plethora of non-biodegradable plastic bags, filled with food and my hair products. But I cannot pay for these material goods unless I find my wallet.” “Just use your credit card, Momma.” “Well, son, I appreciate your grasp of my usual spending habits, but I think you are missing the point – my credit card is in my missing wallet.”

Here’s where the cranky, gum-popping Doogie Hauser of checkers chimed in, clearly focused on her application to NASA instead of her current customers. “Ma’am? Your total is $122.48. Do you have a Fred Meyer reward’s card?”

It must be exhausting listening to the peons in the check out line all day. Her big brain had shunned mine and Auggie’s conversation, as well as my frantic pawing, then me dumping out the contents of my beautiful Dooney & Burke (best birthday gift ever) on her counter, sticky Easter jellybeans shouting for joy as they rolled free.  I’m sure she took those moments to solve world hunger.

           

“Uh, I can’t find my wallet. Can you hold these groceries for me?”

           

“I can hold them for a half hour.”

           

“Will you hold them longer? I live 45 minutes away.” That’s right, the nearest big store is almost an hour away. A wise woman would have actually checked to make sure she had a form of payment with her before pulling out of the driveway. Not me. I made sure I had my lip balm. Which I love, by the way.

           

Customer Service was busy listing all the ways in which they could not service me, Auggie was trying to open un-paid for fruit roll-ups, ex-students, ex-neighbors and ex-boyfriends kept strolling by . . . oh, thank god, my friend in town answered her phone.  And was willing to pay for my groceries.   I promise, my dear friend, my check will not bounce. Probably. If I can find my checkbook.

           

Boy, I hope no one finds out about this.