I Am Defiant

by pjmcbride

New sign at Wesselman’s grocery–“Backpacks must be left at front of store.” Right under the “We Do Not Have Public Restrooms” sign, hallmark of the customer-unfriendly society. (I recommend the government set up truly public restrooms–they would provide jobs! Or, as Rom and I say when some policy is promoted solely for its job-creating possibilities, JOOOBBBSS…said in a zombie BRAINNSS-type way. Try it, you’ll start saying it at the TV news like we do!)

Anyway (you knew there had to be a point here somewhere), I will resist this policy strenuously. Since I only go to the grocery store when I’m on the way to work, I always have a backpack (except when Nick steals it, and he has been banished to 3rd shift, so who cares about him). My aversion to such policies dates back to when I went to the $ General, and they told me to leave it at the front of the store, which turned out to be next to the plastic-bag dispenser (and I have a backpack, so I am virtuously free of the need for plastic bags), right next to the door, where anyone could easily snatch it and dash away. And would the cashier fight them for it, or indeed even remember who was supposed to have it in the first place? And it’s $ General policy to hire as few people as possible, to keep prices low, so that person is often stocking shelves and not even there to keep an eye on my stuff, which shouldn’t be their job, anyway. So now when I go there I just take a small tote bag, which is legally classified as A Purse, and not subject to confiscation.

Although I have no plans to steal anything, I feel like I do, plotting how to sneak my backpack in. Go wide around the cash register area, keep myself between the backpack and Them, keep it on the floor out of sight when I get to the checkout line. It’s like shopping at Walgreen’s, where I so love to browse, and sniff every new bottle of body wash I see, that I’m sure they think they just haven’t managed to catch me yet. I feel like saying, “Look! I could have easily hidden these bottles of nail polish in my bag, but here I am paying for them!” And I flash my “911 Dispatchers: Behind-the-Scenes Heroes” change purse. (For the record, I do not consider myself a hero, seeing nothing particularly heroic about sitting in a chair.)


Wow, we now have scissors at each console! Now I can clip any loose threads on my sleeve, instead of it driving me mad the entire shift. (I actually just used my scissors to clip a loose thread on my 911 Dispatchers Behind The Scenes Heroes change purse, so I’m feeling especially heroic.) And I would no longer be dependent on Nick to open my soy sauce for me when he brought food from Canton Inn, except, as I said,  he has been dragged by the tail to 3rd shift, and is unwept, unhonored, and unslept.


(Maybe Irony In Action should be its own subcategory.)

A guy called in saying he just found his girlfriend cheating on him, and she spit on him. Our caller had a tattoo on his arm saying RESPECT, and one on his back saying LOYALTY. Maybe she was just never in a position to see the one on his back.


What always happens when it rains heavily? Why, people think they can drive through it, of course! The government should save the money it spends on public-service announcements saying Turn Around, Don’t Drown, and spend it on public restrooms, so the populace is no longer dependent on private businesses  allowing them to use theirs. Last night’s version of I Won’t Turn Around, I Can’t Drown occurred behind my house, and Nick had to swim them to safety on his back–always a risky proposition, since he might turn and bite if you try and grab onto his wings.