People who need to be smacked in the head #37

So I stop into 7-11 to get a coffee and a paper. I go up to the counter, and there are just two women in line ahead of me. No big deal--I should be out of here in under a minute, right?

Wrong.

The obese woman at the counter wants a pack of cigarettes. And every time the clerk goes to the cigarette cabinet and gets a pack, it's suddenly not the exact, specific pack that she wants. This takes three different selections by the clerk before the woman is happy. Then she wants lottery tickets. and it turns out that she wants a bunch of them, and all different kinds to boot. So we wait there (there are now three of us in line) while she picks them out one by one by one. "No, not that one...THAT one!"

Finally she gets them all, and the total price comes to $22.75 for one pack of cigarettes and a handful of scratch-off tickets. (There are now four of us in line)

what does this woman do? Does she just pull out some cash and pay? Does she whip out a debit card or even write a check? No.

She pulls a big ziplock bag full of loose change from her purse and just dumps it out on the counter.

The woman in front of me sighs audibly.

Someone else loudly says "Oh, you gotta by kidding me!" (OK, that was me.)

The cashier looks exasperated, but what can she do? Bertha Butt is standing right in front of her now and none of us are getting out of here any time soon now, unless Bertha decides to either use real money or let those of us with minor purchases get rung up while she counts her coins. And Bertha does neither. She glances at us all for a split second, then slowly begins to count out $22.75, pushing the coins towards the cashier as she does.

Did I mention that this was mostly nickels, dimes and pennies? And that she wanted the clerk to take twenty-five pennies rather than a solid quarter?

It took almost three minutes for her to count out the change, during which time the line grew to eight people. Meanwhile I'd already drank my coffee (because I ice it down to about room temperature) and I'd rolled and unrolled my paper several times, each time contemplating whacking that woman on the head with it.

As Bertha finally waddled out with her cigarettes and lottery tickets, the woman ahead of me shook her head and remarked: "I guess times are tough for some people."

The clerk replied: "Oh no. She's got a good job as a manager at Wal-Mart. She's got plenty of money. She just always comes in here with change like that."

In hindsight, should have whacked them both with the paper.

EDITED TO ADD:

I forgot to mention the other dim bulb in the store. About the time I got into line, I saw a guy there wearing a Transportation Security Administration (TSA) uniform walk in. Well gee, I felt safer already, especially when I saw his tattoos and ear piercings.

When I finally walked out of the store several minutes later, I saw a late-model Chevrolet pick-up truck parked unoccupied next to my vehicle and the engine was running. I even joked with another woman in the parking lot about the "free truck" sitting there just waiting for someone to come along and take it. She asked if that wasn't illegal to leave the vehicle running and unattended and I replied that it was, and that if stolen, the insurance companies don't pay off when they find out that you left the keys in it, She and I probably talked for another minute or two before TSA-boy came out of the store. Sure enough, it was his.

How are we supposed to feel secure on an airliner when the tools that TSA hires and pays all that money to can't even be bothered to secure their own property?