What the Maggie wants to eat depends on a whole lot of variables that I don't think I will ever understand, which makes every trip to the local pet supply store an adventure. Come to think of it, it might actually be the joint I smoke before I go into the store that makes it an adventure, her finicky nature just makes it expensive and time consuming. Anyhooters, this past Monday I was roaming the aisles, ideally looking to get her a good supply of food that she will actually eat. Fortunately for me and the Mags, there was a new line of food from one of her go-to brands prominently on display. It looked worth trying and with the freshly stocked shelves, clearly it was meant to be so I loaded up my basket with a few environmentally-friendly, bpa-free, non-metal pseudo-cans of each flavor along with her usual favorites.
Feeling fairly confident that there may be something that pleases the Maggie amongst the choosings, I made my way to the front of the store to pay but they seemed to be lacking a cashier. Rather than figuring it a sign from god, the gods, G-d, the universe, or just plain good fortune and I should haul ass out that door with my overpriced, crapshoot choices of cat food, I waited patiently for the cashier to return like the properly trained and conditioned member of society I am.
I waited for what seemed to be a very long time but probably wasn’t, though it was long enough for the dog wielding lady behind me to ask me whether or not it was a ‘self-checkout sitch.’ I told her it wasn’t but we could probably walk out with our stuff and nobody would notice right when the stout young cashier hurriedly walked past us on his way to the checkout area. We shared a smile and said “too late” in unison.
I made my way to the conveyor belt equipped and plexiglass barriered checkout counter and put the food in a neat and orderly arrangement. As he began scanning the items, he grabbed one of the aforementioned new, environmentally-friendly, bpa-free, non-metal pseudo-cans and asked, “Have you tried this before, sir?” I replied, “no, not yet but I was thinking that it might be good on a slice of rye toast with some orange marmalade.”
His facial expression changed from stoic to that of genuine concern as he said, “sir, I don’t think people are supposed to eat this food. It is ‘human grade,’ but it's still for cats.” The lady in line behind me laughed.
I assured the cashier that it was a joke and I had no intention of eating it. After he scanned and bagged the last can, he gave me the much anticipated total amount due which was borderline obscene. As I swiped my credit card, I looked at the lady behind me, smiled, and said, “I guess we should have just walked out that door with our stuff when we had the chance.”
“No, you wouldn’t want to…,” he said, “oh…wait, you were joking.”
Bless his heart.
Is there a moral to this story?
While plagues and pestilence may have been (allegedly) divine signs to free an enslaved people, an open door and an absent cashier are likely not divine signs that everything is free for the taking. Also, not everyone has a sense of humor these days, but at least I didn't get slapped.