I don't really consider myself much of a "joiner", but I am, in fact, a member of several groups.
I belong to a Church.
I belong to my professional association.
I belong to the PTA.
I belong to Girl Scouts (ha..that one threw you, didn't it? Its true).
Recently, I become a part of another kind of group, though I hesitate to tell you about it because membership is apparently reserved for an elite few, and I don't want it to seem like I'm bragging. On top of that, I didn't even have to sign up. They chose me.
You see, a few weeks ago, when I had just paid at the grocery store and was walking toward the exit, a shift manager walked over, greeted me by name, congratulated me, and stood there smiling at me. I wondered why she was congratulating me. I briefly wondered if I was pregnant and had just been too tired to notice, but she quickly explained that I had been selected to be a member of the Manager's Club at the grocery store.
The benefits, she assured me, are endless. I get three cents a gallon off gas--and all the time, not just when I spend ridiculous amounts of money on groceries. Though, come to think of it, I spend ridiculous amounts of money on groceries all the time. I can also get prescriptions filled any time I want. Well, any time that the store is open. And there's a pharmacist there. I am even part of their concierge service. I have no idea what this means. But it must be good. And get this: I have the managers direct phone number. They even wrote it on a card for me. I'm sure you could never get this by, say, asking for it. As she congratulated me yet again, I started wondering why there weren't balloons for this huge occasion, or streamers. Or champagne.
As I listened to her describe all these great benefits, and congratulate me a few more times, I was somewhat unsettled by the fact that she had just showed up out of nowhere, knew me by name, and knew that I had apparently just surpassed some standard that now made me eligible for membership in this elite club. I'm guessing the standard might have something to do with the ridiculous amount of money that I spend there. Or the ridiculous frequency with which I shop there. I'm guessing both. In any case, since this was clearly such a huge accomplishment from their perspective, they could have at least had a banner made up, "Congratulations! You have now spent the equivalent on a college education on groceries! And, you shop here an average of twelve times a week!" Of course, they would know all about my shopping and spending habits since I put in my little savings card number every time I'm there. Still, there was something rather big brother-ish about all this. The fact that the shift manager cornered me after I had left the register confirmed what I had long suspected: someone has been sitting in that little manager booth, watching us as we shop.
With this realization, my grocery store life flashed before my eyes.
B throwing ice cream the length of the frozen food aisle like it's his own personal football field.
B and O bowling with canned peas down the canned good aisle.
N pirouetting through the produce section, occasionally stopping only to do the splits in front of the broccoli.
B and O playing catch with the tomatoes, and the lemons, and the cantaloupe. None of which we bought.
B strutting down the juice aisle, loudly singing, "Come on everybody help me raise this roof, raise this roof, raise this roof..."
N and B physically fighting, and screaming, repeatedly, over who gets to sit in the car cart.
B briefly napping on a pile of rolls...and me rearranging them to hide the smooshed ones.
O repeatedly throwing loaves of bread on the floor..and me putting them in the back so no one would know.
I'd always wondered if someone was watching, but this confirmed it. I wasn't sure how I felt about this. I took the information on my elite Manager's Club membership as the shift manager congratulated me yet again, and told me to please make sure I let them know if there was anything they could do to make my shopping experience more enjoyable.
Well, since they asked...I'm thinking I'll request the following:
Since you seem to know when I'm there, how much I spend, and when I check out, could you pay closer attention when you see me pull into the parking lot? When you do, please send someone out to meet me, with a cart and a grande vanilla latte from your Starbucks. Preferably bring a car cart, since the kids always drive me crazy wanting those. This way, they will be much easier to handle for whoever is pushing them around the store while I am sitting in the car, drinking my grande vanilla latte.
While you're doing that, if you could keep your eyes out for a few things I've lost in previous trips, I'd appreciate it:
I think I lost my patience in the frozen food aisle. If you find even some of it, that would be great.
I'm fairly certain I lost most of my sanity in the produce section. But maybe it was canned goods.
I definitely lost my mind in the bread aisle. I think I got some of it back, but I'm hoping the rest of it is still floating around there, cause I don't know where else it would be at this point.
And you may want to look for some of my dignity in the feminine hygiene aisle. I think I also lost some of my hearing there--though perhaps selectively--after being asked "What are those? Well then what are those? Why do you need those? and Why don't I need those?" one too many times.
I know I don't need to explain. Of course you know all of this, since you've been watching us.
That brings me to the last thing I'd like to ask you for.
A check for 61, 943.00 dollars.
That's roughly what we've spent at your store over the past six years.
I figure it's also approximately what you would have had to pay a team of musicians, athletes, dancers, and comedians to entertain you the way that we have over that same period of time.
And you've been getting it all for free.
Once you do that, we'll enroll you in our elite club, Parents Tired of Shopping without being Drugged. You can remember us by our acronym, PTSD.
Congratulations!
The benefits are endless.
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