Yonder Piggly Wiggly

This weekend I drove myself to the grocery store to buy a few things. First I stopped and picked up a sandwich for lunch. The bill was $4.11. I paid for it with a five dollar bill. The cashier handed me my receipt and a bulky handful of change which I stuffed in my pocket. After quickly gulping down my lunch, I ran into the market. Grabbing just an armful of items from the shelves, I made my way to the checkout.

I usually avoid the express lanes because I often find them slower than the regular ones. What happens is that a dozen people, all with "10 items or less [sic]," swarm the express lane. Meanwhile the regular lanes always have shorter lines and I believe they move faster. Scanning and bagging the groceries is quite fast. It doesn't take that much longer to ring up 20 or 30 items than it does 10. It's the transactions, with people writing checks, fumbling with the credit card machine or sifting through purses for exact change that really drag things down. I'd rather take my chances behind one person with a huge cart full of food, than 8 people who might be writing checks.

But this weekend, I saw the express lane had only a very short line and I thought I would give it a shot. To my surprise, I was quickly at the front having my few items scanned. The total was $13.35.

In addition to avoiding express lanes, I almost always pay for groceries by credit card. But because I was in an express lane, I thought I would be considerate and pay by cash. That's always the fastest way, right? Especially if I have exact change.

So I reached down into my pocket knowing that I had a sizeable amount of change. But the coinage had become intermingled with my car keys, the paper receipt from lunch and an alarming amount of pocket lint. I was able to fish out a few coins: a quarter and a penny. Nervously, I reached in again, pulled out my keys and the receipt and set them on the counter. With the obstacles clear, I was able to get out the full collection of change. Sorting out a quarter, nickel and dime, I handed them to the cashier. I then reached into my bill fold to hand over the correct amount of cash. This is when I realized I didn't have as much money with me as I'd thought. After buying lunch, I now only had a five and three ones. I was five dollars short.

I felt mortified. I apologized to the cashier and asked for the change back so that I could pay by credit card. I was now one of those people holding up the express line. As I reached in for my credit card, I turned around to express my contrition to my fellow customers waiting behind me. That's when I noticed her. It was Betty.

Betty was my friend from the local post office. Betty was the line nazi who was mean to her customers. I recognized her immediately. She was wearing a blue USPS shirt and a name tag that read, "Betty."

I nodded at Betty. She gave me a sharp stare and flicked her tongue.

"Sorry about this," I said to her.

"Uh huh. Just keep it moving," she barked.

"I'm just going to..."

"Stop talking and start paying," she interrupted.

Turning back to the cashier, I put away my credit card. I reached into my wallet and pulled out a slip of paper I've had folded up in my wallet for emergencies just like this. I knew I had to do it for all the people in my ZIP code who have had a run in with Betty. I unfolded the paper, picked up a pen and said to the cashier:

"I'll just pay by check."