Remember that time I stalked my grocery bagger?
Oh, wait! That’s ALL THE TIME FOREVER.
Let’s face it: I love this young man. If you must know why, I am happy to recap:
- He was … not skilled at bagging groceries. He would not make eye contact with anyone and seemed to wish the floor would open up and swallow him whole.
- Months later, I noticed him retrieving carts. He was smiling with beautiful, movie star teeth. Later, I saw him getting picked up from work. He let out an exuberant “Woo-hoo!” to celebrate the end of the workday.
- Months after that, he bagged my groceries … with the canned goods on the bottom and the produce on the top. But that is not even remotely important. What’s important is that this man who would barely acknowledge anyone now looked up and told me to have a nice day.
I know. I know!
Y’all, I am going to tell you want happened last time I was at the HyVee.
The woman with the fabulous earrings was checking out my gajillion groceries. And she made a little joke to my bagger boyfriend, and he laughed and joked back. And then? Then, he started singing along to the Shania Twain song on the Muzak. He knew all the words.
Now, I would like some sort of award or at least a participant’s ribbon for keeping my shit together. I acted so cool, like it was no big deal that my bagger boyfriend was comfortable in his own skin, like I hadn’t been witness to a slo-mo miracle over the last four years.
I channeled my inner 14-year-old and acted like nothing impressed me. I didn’t even get excited when my bagger boyfriend asked if I needed help out to my car. I answered “no” because let’s be honest – the temptation to kidnap him would be too great.
I channeled my inner Fonzie and was so cool, but then I smiled all the way out to my car, and the whole time I was loading the car, and basically the whole ride home.
Going to the grocery can make me moderately homicidal. The lack of cart etiquette alone is … challenging. I’m worried that all my wrath means I miss out on all the good stuff around me. So, I focus on my bagger and try to go from there.
“at the HyVee” … ha!! It’s a destination!
Sweet story, my smile for the day.
Now I feel all warm and fuzzy. Thanks for that.
All the feels for this………
About 17 yrs ago a bagger offered to help me to my car. It was winter. He followed the wrong black coat wearing lady to her car with my groceries. I realized it after I buckled laddie and Eddie in their carseats. Eventually I got the bagger's attention but lad cried because he was afraid the guy was taking our food. I still see that bagger and I always think of the mayhem from forever ago.
I love this so much! It's the small things that make the grocery store less unbearable.
I can relate to the grocery store inducing moderately homicidal feelings. In fact, I made the mistake of going in the middle of the day on a Saturday. On a good day, I hate the grocery store but can behave myself, on a bad day, any semblance of a shut-up filter exits my body the minute I walk through the doors. Recently, after a particularly bad day of cart etiquette (I got smacked in the ankle twice by the same person), I utilized the entirety of my extensive curse word vocabulary right there in the cereal aisle to let the woman know what I thought of her cart driving skills. Then I texted hubs to tell him that I was headed to the checkouts and if I didn't call him within 20 minutes he should probably look for me in the county jail.
Glad to hear he's doing well. It's a fine thing when we develop these relationships with people who we see every week.
this young man is my son at burger king, but further along. my son still prefers to avoid people, but he's always there for his manager. they give him employee of the month every so often (otherwise, he'd have it every month). particular members of the community ask for him to cook their burger. as mom, i cannot say how MUCH i appreciate how people like you make a difference for those folks who, technically might test as functional, so can't get assistance, but are sort of on the edge. i cannot send you enough of bless you, bless you, bless you. he is so proud when that sort of thing happens, and, by conventional standards, he shouldn't.
Sharon, I am not always the greatest at responding to comments, and your kind words have left me speechless. THANK YOU for sharing your story and letting us love and cheer on your son from afar. Blessings to you all!