I love me some chicken.Roasted chicken.
Not the underage kind.
I also love me some Kroger.
I have long since fled the need to shop at Walmart for groceries. No more encounters of the polyester water buffalo kind along with the brood of 10 from 9 different daddies sniveling and snotting all over everything.
As someone who works for a non-profit organization that caters to the underserved populations, I enjoy working on Saturdays so that working folk get to obtain services that they can't afford to get elsewhere.
And so I work from 9 in the morning to 4 in the afternoon (without a lunch break, mind you). So I'm not really in a position to partake in Saturday specials until near evening hours. With any luck, I'll visit my local Kroger at around 4:30 p.m. or a quarter hour later, I would just like a chance to have access to Saturday specials just like the money grubbers who work Monday through Friday and have free access to Saturday specials prior to my arrival.
And so I set forth this past Saturday to obtain a 12 ounce package of bacon for $1.99 so that I might be able to have something special for today's breakfast.
Of course it was out.
Just like last week when the Saturday special item was out before I arrived.
I'm not sure why Kroger bothers to advertise something for Saturday and then to only have enough to last till 4 p.m.. I'd have more respect for Kroger (or other places) if they just said, "we'll have only enough for the first 10 people and the rest of you can go fuck yourselves."
Dismayed though not annoyed to the point of wanting Coco Peru to come to be my advocate for the hour, I proceeded to get what I needed - food for my Tittles and some coffee (for my personality - you don't want to know me with my coffee!) - and then I figured that since I had two compelling reasons to purchase $50 worth of groceries, I'd just shop for the upcoming week and carefully choose sale items so that I could get more bang for my buck (since there was no buck to bang me).
The two reasons were 200 extra gas points which would save me 20 cents per gallon (normally I'd have to spend $200 to get 200 points) at the Kroger gas pumps outside of the building. And the second reason was I had a coupon from my last Kroger visit that said if I bought $50 I would save $5 on that visit. Since I could use both savings, that would be a total savings of about $7 since UV's 20 year old chariot takes about 10 gallons of petrol (give or take) when the low fuel light is ignited by the still functioning grumbling fuel light elf.
It was this pursuit of $50 of groceries that had me seeking out the bargains and hence my pursuit of 12 ounces of chemically induced pig fat with snippets of pig flesh in the first place. Having now procured Tittles' food and my coffee, I set forth to procure the 4 bags of Doritos Spicy Nacho Chips that were priced at $1.49 if I bought 4 of them (I saved $4 doing so).
I love me some Doritos. Never try to steal a bag of Doritos from me. You won't survive.
I also noticed a nice beef roast market down to $3.29 per pound (lower than the sale priced beef roast that was also out - grrrrrrrrrr). This roast would be cooked today (in the oven as I write). I added some gravy and whole canned green beans (I adore these - long as they are and I just love the taste of canned beans - I think that is a symptom of mad cow infection).
Along the way I noticed that the sparkling apple cider was on sale - again, buy 4 and save $4 so I bought 4. I wanted this anyway and this was like getting 4 bottles at the price of 2.5 regularly priced units. As I don't drink, sparkling Apple Cider gives me the appearance of being a lush in a nice tall stemware without actually being a lush.
I added a few other assorted items to my basket and carefully kept track in my head the rough total so that I would at least get $50.
I purposefully kept room in that $50 for a nice $5 roasted chicken that would be Saturday's dinner. All day I had visions of a nice chicken that would be dinner as I worked past lunch and this vision kept me sane while my stomach was trying to get me to put something in it throughout my shift.
It was thus that I approached the Deli session for the fourth time - three other circuits of the store and to the Deli section greeted me with an empty fully lighted and fully heated section where the chickens are placed out in their sealed deli containers with handles. Being of sound mind and somewhat fading sound body, I fully reasoned that if they are going to light and heat this display, that chickens will be there - eventually. I had checked this area initially upon entry and it was as empty as could be, but I figured, the early greedy sales shoppers had taken all the chicken and I'd get a "fresh one".
That reasoning in the last sentence worked two other visits back to the deli section.
But upon the fourth time to the still hot and well lit area where chickens should now be residing after nearly an hour of my visit time, I became more than annoyed.
And there was no sign posted that said, "he dumbass, we ran out of chicken - go home and fuck yourself and return some random day when we do have chicken."
So I approached the deli counter where the sides and chicken tenders were held for takeout.
Behind the counter was some piggy old woman who was nearly as wide as she was tall - evidently a question about the status of the empty chicken stand immediately in front of her was a virginal question - she looked indignant that I should ask such a question and to thus pop her cherry, but it also required her to move her mass from the point immediately in front of her to thus find an answer for the cherry plucked question that I had pondered.
After a few moments of her orbit around the cooking area of the deli, I was informed...
WE ARE OUT OF CHICKEN
I was startled and bamboozled. "You are out of chicken," I noted with a mixture of contempt, insult, and mad cow in my voice. I didn't raise my voice as that simply wouldn't be southern so to do. I just offered that in shock and the fact that I wanted a fucking chicken and now I'd have to settle for something else.
I asked if there would be more chicken (thinking that I could postpone my chicken desire a bit longer).
NO, WE HAVE NO MORE CHICKENS TO COOK.
I didn't just fall off a cabbage truck, but I was now reaching the boiling point where hysteria would overcome being southern.
Having caught myself before I went all UV on the piggy woman, I noticed there was enough chicken tenders that could satisfy my desire for chicken even if it would be a tad bit more than I was going to pay.
I directed piggy woman that I wanted a pound of chicken tenders (thinking ahead for a snack later on with the amount I would not eat immediately).
Piggy woman noted that the tenders were not really separated but rather clumped together - seriously, at this point I had speculated that I was on "Candid Camera" and I would soon be a star just like the Kardashians were discovered, sans the cumshots and penises in my ass.
I had reached the point where I was now being controlled by my stomach and not by my temper and I just instructed the piggy woman to give me as close to a pound of that breaded and fried chicken flesh and don't worry about whether it is one clump or two. Somehow she found three single strips of chicken tenders and then hacked the clumps into somewhat breaded chicken flesh and then put it in a very low rise container that had the chicken clumps rising up over the top of the black plastic like Kilimanjaro.
I thought to myself, "oh, no she isn't...."
And then she did.
She took the low rise clear plastic top and proceeded to reduce the height of the mountain of chicken into a chicken patty that nearly filled the low rise black plastic bottom.
I stood there now speechless - imagine UV being speechless - and I accepted the smashed chicken, part time breaded, chicken tenders from the Piggy woman's paws and proceeded to get the fuck out of the store before the police were called because I started throwing the contents of my shopping basket at the gravitationally challenged old bitch.
Had I been in my 30's, I would have gone all off on this cunt, but now having reached the middle 50's, I just don't want my last act on the earth to be one where I'm murdering someone.
And so I pulled myself to the self checkout line where I ran into the perfect storm of incompetence where two humanoids were positioned at their warden stations so that they could arrive if your self checkout experience encountered a problem.
My $5 off coupon gave me such a problem. The register thus triggered that "help is on the way" audio message that continued to play over and over again.
Humanoid 1, the male, was looking at his phone and unaware that the building was burning down.
Humanoid 2, Olive Oil, the thin and rather unattractive white female was looking around as if she cared, but she obviously was unaware of what was happening in reality.
And I waited. And I waited.
Humanoid 1 suddenly responded to the register just past me, and then stumbled upon my situation by near accident. He fixed my problem without even acknowledging the wait.
And my experience with Kroger was over.
I gave my feedback via their feedback channel (earning 50 more fuel points).
I'll still go back to Kroger, but I'll have this story to share with you all.
No comments:
Post a Comment