The other day, I was at my local grocery store when a lovely smell wafted my way …. Piiiiizzzzaaahhhhh!!! Oh how I love pizza. As a matter of fact, my love for pizza was revealed in my tell-all post entitled “A Nice Day to Panhandle” and further spelled out in “Deserted Island Picks”.
I shot my cart right over to the tasting shack where the taste test woman was sequestered behind plexi-glass, her hair safely drawn from the public with a paper shower cap. On one tray were what looked like wilted miniaturized coffee filters with tiny little wedges of delicious pizza snuggled inside. On another tray were colorful wax covered Dixie cups of juice. I had just come from the gym and was still sweaty and depleted. I felt like a little girl coming in from recess to receive my treats. I needed my treat and I was next in line.
As I reached for the tiny sliver of pizza, the plexi-glass woman explained what it was, how much, and where to find it. None of this information was disseminated while actually looking at me. She was on a loop and it was the 349th time she had repeated herself that day, I’m sure. Standing next to me was an older man. Not old, just older than I and he had obviously eaten his piece of pizza and has moved onto the juice tray. It’s sort of like grocery store sacrament. But just then, he did it. He feigned an “intrigued” expression on his face and grabbed the box. But it was all smoke and mirrors because has soon as he set the box back down he casually slid his hand over another sample and took his second piece and to make matters even more serious, it was the last piece on the tray. Sinner!!!
I bristled and watched this asshole break all common courtesies. What a creep. I decide that he was probably a serial sample stealer and made off with more than his share all over town. Some people are selfish; not me, but some people are. I would never take seconds, not without going around the store first and taking off a jacket or something so that I at least looked different. The nerve. Plus, it was the last piece. What about the people behind him? It makes me sick.
I wanted to tell the teacher on him. I wanted him to have a time out and explain to the rest of the class why he thinks he deserves more than everyone else. I wanted to follow him out to the parking lot where he most certainly parked his Hummer illegally in a handicap space. I should have followed him through the express lane where he probably wrote a check really slowly for his ‘over the limit’ cart full of specials with coupons.
I suggest they get pictures of every sample stealer and prominently display their faces at all tasting shacks. People should be warned. Like when they stick pictures of chronic check bouncers on the wall at a liquor store, or the posters of kidnappers at the Post Office.
The next time that happens, and you know it will happen, I’m going to wait until that selfish prick takes that last sample and then I’ll pretend to pull something out of my mouth and shout “Oh my God, it’s a pubic hair!” and then run screaming out of the building.