Saturday, May 28, 2016

Sorry, Memory.

Just wondering: How bad of a person are you when you tell the retarded bagger at the grocery store that you're just going to bag your groceries yourself?

In my case today, my decision led the check-out clerk to go on: "It's OK, Memory, it's OK! Memory, just let her do it. She's going to do it, Memory. Thank you, Memory! No, Memory, you can go help the people at the next line. Thank you, Memory!"

Memory didn't know how to bag groceries. I'd bought about 2 bags'-worth of groceries, with 2 bags to go along with. Memory put about 3 of the 20 items in one bag, then moved on to the next. I saw how that was going to go: Not getting my stuff within my 2 bags. I had to take a bus home. I had to walk over a half-mile. I had to take charge of the crappy bagging going on.

Oh, but I felt so guilty afterwards: "God, can't I even be nice to a retarded person? Was it SO important that my groceries got bagged properly?"

Yeah, it WAS of importance to me that my groceries got bagged properly. Since I have to take a bus and walk home, it does matter if I have numerous bags instead of two; it does matter if all the heavy stuff is in one bag and all the light stuff in the other.

Needless to say, I bagged my own stuff expertly. But I guess that wasn't the ultimate point. (I'm sure that I could do many other peoples' job expertly.) Was the point to be "relaxed" and understand that the grocery store hired retarded people and so I should be patient with them?

If I had a car, I wouldn't care much: Bag the stuff how you want, Memory. But given that I needed things packed correctly, I did care. Sorry, Memory.

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