Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Hostile Encounters

After a little less than a year on the job, I have discovered several unexpected occupational hazards associated with my current state of employment. (I have to be vague here because my mother is convinced I will inadvertently disclose important personal information in this blog and then someone will steal my identity and probably my soul. Yes, I am a grown woman. And yes, she sorely overestimates my reader base.)

Let's suffice it to say my job requires constant corralling of young people and generally has me begging for some semblance of order and/or normalcy. While these things are fairly hazardous, there is something even more dangerous that I am required to do. Ready?

I have to.... go to Sam's Club. Alot.

I personally find Sam's scary enough on its own - I mean, who builds shelves that high? and do they ever actually pull stuff down from the top shelf? or is it just supposed to look monstrously ominous and leave everyone in awe at the massive amounts of massive quantities in one building? - but, really, it's the people at Sam's that scare me the most. I am NOT talking about those sweet little ladies who hand out the samples - God knows I love them. No, I am talking about my fellow Sam's patrons.

Now before you write me off as chronically over dramatic, let me explain.

I only go to Sam's when I have to buy huge quantities of junk food and other sugar laden products, which happens surprisingly often. As I am minding my own business, pushing my flat bed cart up and down the aisles, I get the most disgusting glares from people. They squint their eyes and grit their teeth and look at me as though I alone am to blame for childhood obesity in America. Have you ever been held responsible for an epidemic? It's not fun.

I try my best to just smile and go on my merry little way, while at the same time glaring back with a "you-try-appeasing-forty-teenagers-without-junk-food" kind of look, but I have a feeling that one of these days I am just going to explode. I'll throw down my ten pound bag of chocolate, walk over to their cart and look as judgmental as possible as I stare at their stock pile of fruits, veggies and other Kashi products. Then I will come to the unfortunate yet inevitable realization that I am pushing a heart attack on wheels and they are single-handedly saving the planet. My bad.

I knew Sam's was scary, but I didn't know it could be so hostile.

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