(This is a story that was originally posted here a long while ago. I’ve made a few changes. First one to spot three gets a prize. No, not really.)
No where is my superiority more evident than the checkout lane at Publix. Well, except maybe Monkees trivia night at Wild Wings, but that’s another story.
I carefully unload my cart onto the belt, making sure to put all the cold things together and the bread at the end of the line. I do not trust the cashier to place my soft items aside so they do not get pummeled by a barrage of canned goods. Yes, they do this for a living, but they do not handle my baguette with the care it deserves. As I push my cart forward, the bag-person (they are not just boys anymore) asks the ubiquitous question, “Plastic okay, ma’am?”
Ignoring the ma’am comment, I slowly raise my hand and reply, “No. I have my own.”
A hush envelopes the store as all eyes focus on my reusable, cloth bags as they are unfurled from my purse. I give the bags a satisfying shake before handing them to the bag-person who is slack-jawed with awe. With reverence, he accepts them. I bask in the collective guilt of the masses, sheepishly clutching the store provided plastic bags laden with their groceries. I take a moment to scan the crowd and righteously judge them all.
Yes, you, in the Birkenstocks and hemp necklace, where is your reusable bag? And you, sixth year grad student, how can you sleep at night knowing that you are loading those environmental time-bombs into your hybrid vehicle? Not so fast soccer mom! So, you re-use the store bags as liners for your bathroom trashcans? Do you think that doing the bare minimum is setting a good example for little Dakota and Cassidy?
I return my attention to the bag-person who seems to be having difficulty loading my purchases into the glorious bags I have provided. I graciously offer assistance.
“All five bottles of wine will fit into one bag, believe me. Oh, be sure to put the Cheetos on top of the box of Sugar Pops. You can put the Easy Cheese and bologna together. Hey, don’t crush the Oreo’s! Put them, no wait, there, on top. Oh, give them to me. I’ll just put them in my purse, I may need them on the ride home.”
I settle my bags on my shoulders and stroll out of the store, chin held high. It’s not easy setting a positive example for mankind, but it’s a burden I humbly accept.
