Yesterday I had to mail some additional Christmas Cards that I hadn't sent with my first batch. I was in a rush because I wanted to get them out so people would actually have them before the Holiday, plus I was on my short lunch break and I wanted to have time to eat.
I left the store at like 2:00 and was waiting in line at the Post Office by 2:05 and I only had to wait for about 10 minutes to get to the front of the line, get my stamps, and drop the cards in the mail. I was actually in a pretty good mood, something that is rare this time of year and I walked next door to the ABP. I was gently ladling my Tomato Bisque into a cup when I heard the whiny grating voice of the "Snapple Lady."
The "Snapple Lady" is a clearly disturbed woman, who shops at my store on a fairly regular basis. She is one of the few crazy customers that I simply can't tolerate. I generally duck and run for cover when she appears because she is just that annoying. She always buys approximately four Snapples and then needs to put them in her bag. But our counter is never big enough for her to place her multiple bags on the counter and maneuver the four bottles of Snapple in there. She always complains (once again in her whiny strained voice) that we need to build bigger counters because we are discriminating against women. Other whiny complaints also include needing wider aisles because we are discriminating against fat people and that our escalators move to fast.
But back to the worlds colliding... so when I hear "Snapple Lady's" voice I abruptly drop the ladle into the soup, splashing it all over the counter and try to plan my escape without her seeing me. Unfortunately, the sound of the dropping ladle has caught her attention and I am spotted, I decide to pretend not to notice her as she harasses the poor cashier. I finish getting my soup and bread bowl and gently walk towards the line. It appears that "Snapple Lady" can't find her card anywhere in one of her bags... this is apparently a new bag, and the counters at ABP are too small for her to find anything. She continues to whine and curse and sputter looking for her card for at least five minutes where I seem to go undetected. As I slowly sneak up to the cash register directly behind where she is throwing her fit she notices who I am and exclaims... "YOU ARE THAT GUY AT THAT STORE, YOU ARE BAD PEOPLE."
The cashier looks at me with that level of understanding that is only possible when you work with the public. She finally find her card, mutters more to herself and then finally leaves. I pay for my soup, put myself together and head out the door. On my way out I say to the poor cashier who had to handle "Snapple Lady."
"She is one of my favorites"
She replies, "Yeah, no kidding she is one in a million."
It is weird when your work life collides with your non-working life, but I guess it is part of the deal, and it does make me feel better knowing that I am not the only person that "Snapple Lady" drives crazy!