May 06, 2007

Beware The Soccer Mom

"You know, we're living in a society here!" – a frustrated George
Costanza (Jason Alexander), on

THE DEAL AT SAFEWAY on the first Tuesday of every month – Customer Appreciation Day, ironically – is that shoppers have a choice between receiving bonus Air Miles or ten percent off their purchases, providing they're at least thirty-five dollars. So to our amusement upon reaching the mysteriously short lineup at Checkout Number One, an interesting standoff was going down between a newbie cashier and a belligerent, denim-clad, bronzed-beyond-recognition soccer mom ...

Soccer Mom: I wanna know why I don't get the deal. I should have the choice between ten percent off or the Air Miles, right? That’s the deal.

Poor Pimples, The Junior Cashier: Well, it's a minimum thirty-five dollars purchase for that to happen.

SM: I did spend thirty-five dollars!

PP: Yes, but that was before I swiped your Club Card. Now it's $30.72.

SM: So then how many Air Miles could I get?

PP: Well, that would depend on what you bought.

SM: And what's ten percent of thirty-five?

PP: Well – it doesn't – your total isn't high enough for the discount.

Next-In-Line Lady: It's three-fifty.

SM: How did you just figure that out?

NILL: Ten into thirty-five is three-fifty. You just move the decimal over.

SM: Thank you. See, now that makes sense.

A few more minutes pass as the details and description of the store's offer are rehashed between Soccer Mom and the cashier.

NILL: Oh come on – this is stupid. Lady, it's just three dollars.

SM: Yeah? Go to another f**king line if you don't like it.

NILL: I am going to another line. I don't have to take this.

SM (leaning in, nearly nose-to-nose): Lady, you're lucky I don't smack you in the f**king face.

NILL (rounding up her things): You’re crazy!

SM: Yeah, yeah, that's right. I'm a crazy b*tch.

At this point a manager is brought in to officially cave to Soccer Mom's demands, but moreso to avoid an even bigger scene. We've done well to avoid participation, but as she readies to leave she finally acknowledges us.

SM: And I'm not apologizing for anything.


Melissa said...

Other people. They're the worst, eh?

Sounds like great entertainment to me!

Mary said...

Sounds like a cashier who's HAD IT with bitchy soccer moms. I'm on the side of the cashier. hahaha :)

Jeope said...

But the cashier was so by-the-book and docile. He was a character by himself, the way he kept at it with company policy – in a way, the perfect foil.

Tracy said...

That is classic. Some people's kids.

Mark Kruk said...

I bet Jeope has some more good first hand stories from his pharmacy days.

Ian said...

Tarantino couldn't have written a better scene! real life can be so weird some times eh? I was in the same 10 items line when what seemed like a nice little exchange between a guy with broken english and a women holding flowers turned kinda creepy. gotta start going to Superstore, no one talks to anyone there.:-)

Jeope said...

That's true, even the cashiers there are small-talk-proof.

Mark, I've kicked myself many times that I didn't keep a journal while working there.

Allan L. said...

"Mark, I've kicked myself many times that I didn't keep a journal while working there."
Those were the days, eh? The last time I talked to Floyd, he gave me updates on who was dead, and the folks that are still kickin'(surprisingly).
I really don't know what I would've done during the soccer mom situation. That's just plain stupid.

Cheryl Moore said...

I love big scenes featuring nutbars. They're delicious. Thanks for the recap.

I once saw a lady at the post office freak out because she was surrounded by so many "unwhite people". And then she accused me of having sex with a dog. It was hilarious.

Anonymous said...

That sure sounds typical for Winnipeg. Crazy & cheap.

Anonymous said...

A few hours ago, a stupid, clueless a**hole of a soccer mom backed onto my 2-day old Porsche at the gas station. What was she driving? A mountainous, gigantic SUV out of which she could not see %80 of the world around her. She came out, indifferently inspected her car, said: "oh, there's nothing on my car! your car is so low, if i had the armada i would have driven right over it." So my car is guilty for being "so low" and not this disgusting excuse of a human being who damaged something precious and close to my heart because she did not pay attention and because she had to drive a gigantic SUV. What if there was a child behind her mountain of a bumper? What if she had killed a little child? I hate, hate, HATE soccer moms! I hate them.