Shoppers Drug Mart appears to be taking over the world.
Everywhere I turn a new one seems to be materializing, rising massively from the land as if the realization of some biblical prophecy. In a constant state of expansion and growth, it’s my observation that Shoppers has a nearly impossible time acquiring decent employees. I’ve encountered three different types of cashiers, each appearing with the same regularity.
1) The competent cashier
2) The grossly incompetent cashier
3) The cashier-in-trainer, who by default is incompetent.
On Sunday I was at their store at Dupont and Spadina impulsively buying tons of stuff. I hadn’t anticipated doing this, and so I didn’t have a shopping cart but instead had everything precariously balanced in my arms and sticking out of my pockets. They only had two cashiers working and about 50 customers, all of whom were divided into two frustrated lines that were feeding slowly to a grossly incompetent cashier and a cashier-in-training.
We were doomed.
As various articles tumbled from my arms, I started chatting with the woman standing in front of me about our shared fate. It was a genial bitch session and after I felt we’d established a bit of a rapport, I asked her if she’d save my place in line while I went to get a shopping cart to put all my stuff in. I had been the last person in line when I made this request, but when I returned there was a new women, an irritated women, standing behind my spot. I excused myself, apologized, explained the situation and then took my rightful place in line, putting all my items in my newly acquired cart.
The woman directly behind me was giving me the stink eye.
She kept sighing.
And when she could contain herself no longer she said,
“ You’re nobody special, you can’t cut in line.”
“I’m not cutting in line.”
“Yes, you are. And you’re no better than a thief, you’re just stealing other people’s time.”
(She looked like the woman on the far right, only bigger, meaner and uglier.)
I waited until her next sigh and then turned around, “ Look, why don’t you just go and try your luck in the other line?”
“Why don’t you?” Her hands on her hips now, giving me that Oh-No-You-Don’t-Daytime-Talkshow look.
Exasperated, I condescended, as if talking to a child, “Okay, you can have my spot if it means that much to you.”
I then gave her my place, which she quickly took without any expression of gratitude or conciliation, her thin lips curling with satisfaction.
A victory. She, the conquering hero, now equipped with a story of triumph she would tell for ages.
This drove me insane with anger, and without thinking I said,
“You have a really big ass. A big, sloppy ass and big hair. That’s what you have.”
The woman’s eyes went crazy. “What did you say?”
“I said you have a really big ass. Big hair and big ass. I didn’t really notice it until I was standing behind you, but then there it was. Pow!”
This woman then punched me in the face, whereupon I discovered that I could take a blow, so long as it was glancing.