Aggravation Compensation

Ok, so if you know Tokyo Slim, you know I can get really aggravated, really quick, over really trivial stuff, then hold a grudge for a really long time (so far, that appears to be "till death"). Well, today I got aggravated and, minutes later, dropped a grudge for the first time ever. That's right; I know if MK is reading this, he probably just crapped himself. Here's how it went down:

I'm at the Walmart; I hate the Walmart, but I go there anyway because, as you may have read before, I'm a bargain shopper (I'm a cheap bastard). I get aggravated just about every single time I go to Walmart, and this time was no different. We bought 4 big 18 gallon plastic containers with lids to throw crap in, 1 small container to lightly set crap in, and then a few other crappy items.

We start the antagonizing death march down the row of checkout counters. God Help Me, I hate Walmart. Lane closed, Full cart, 2 Full Carts, Full Cart, Half-Full Cart, Lane Closed, Lane Closed, Full Cart... Eureka! 15 items or less lane, there's a Fat Guy in a red shirt, he's got 2 small items on the counter, that's it! He's just standing there, it must be all on the counter! Watch it lady, you don't want none of this.
Yeah, score.

Now normally I'd wonder why a guy this fat didn't get on the lazy, fat people's cart*(see footnote 1) as nature intended him to, but I set aside my inquisitive ways and relished the sweet score on a "low lane."
I'm looking around, people are giving me the "good score on the low lane" nod, and I’m nodding back. The security guys in the back of the store are no doubt going over the replay tapes, already calling the Chunky Soup commercial guy with "the voice" to do the archive commentary for "Great Moments in Shopping History, Part IV."
Ok, don't get a big head there, Bucko, eyes front, let’s get some of your small crap on the counter.

What the??? There's another item in the fat guy in a red shirt's pile!? He must've overlooked it, maybe lost it in the belly shade or something. No problem, still plenty of room for my stuff. Turn, reach into my cart, grab some small crap, turn... Ok, where's the hidden camera? More stuff in his pile? This ain't possible. Where's this stuff coming from? This guy was so fat, you couldn't see his cart in front of him. None of it. I'm not joking.

Like a pair of pocket Aces before the flop, the fat guy in the red shirt was slow playing his cart items, hiding his cart with the big red tent he called a shirt, trying to sucker me in; and I bit. One after another, he fired out bets, and I stayed there in line, pot committed now that people blocked me in.

Oh, I was agg-rah-vated. The nerve of this guy, to sit there and keep pulling items out from his cart like he was one of those clowns with the never-ending-chain of hankies! And the fat cashier, she's just lettin' it go down! That's not right. Maybe I missed the secret fat people society's jowl-shake or something. He finally stopped, on my count of 23 items and I began ORM, weighing my options, calculating pot odds. I could poke him in his back fat and let him know he broke the rules; he was over 15 items. He could ignore me, or belly bump me into sporting goods. I could say, "my, what a big red shirt that is" and he could say, "the better to wipe my mouth with after I eat you."

As I went over scenarios in my head, my concentration was broken by the talk of numbers and defensiveness. Shut it Slim, you're in the presence of incompetence ** (see footnote 2).
Listen in:

Fat Guy in a Red Shirt: That wasn't right.

Fat Cashier: huh?

FGIARS: I gave you the 40 cents also

FC: Oh, yeah, sorry, I'll give you the 75 cents with your change.

FGIARS: Yeah! That's better!

Me: Ok, you both are boobs. You gave her odd-ball change on a bill that came to a different odd-ball amount, to get more pocket change back. And you know how much he gave you but rang it in different? You dumb, fat bastards don't deserve to touch money!

Ok, I didn't really say anything, but I was thinking some stuff along those lines. I knew I was gonna have to watch Fat Cashier really close. Fat Guy in a Red Shirt gets his bucket of change and waddles on out.

While the Math-Olympics were going on, I was feverishly getting my few crappy items up on the counter and had my plastic tubs poised A) to show they were empty, B) to let tubby scan the UPC and hit 4.

So she starts to ring up my stuff. She does the small crappy stuff, and, in true cashier form, throws it into the center of the cart so she can put the huge stuff on top of it; Sheer Genius. She scans my 1 small container, bags it, then looks at the 4 big containers and:

FC: Oh, you didn’t have to put those up on the counter; they’re too big to go over the scanner here.

Me: I know how big they are; you gotta check and see that I’m not smuggling stuff out.

FC: (ignores what I just said) No, I got this smaller scanner; I can just walk around and get it.
Me: Just stay back there, it’s already on the counter, lady.

FC: Aren’t you sweet? (She moves in for the scan.)

Me: You bet I am, BEEP!

No, I didn’t say beep, the register behind me beeped, just as she went to scan my tubs. She thought she got it. She slowly lifts a finger, points at the top tub, then counts her way down the stack like a drunk who can’t focus for long and sounds like she just ate garlic and wants to share it with you.She almost sounded like the Russian chick from the Bullwinkle cartoons, but whispering. Somehow, she managed to count all four. She hit something and the 4 to signify there were 4 of what she scanned and totaled it up. Looks a little low…

Walking out, I check the receipt; just as I suspected. She scanned the small container but missed scanning the big ones, charging me for 4 smalls, no larges, instead of 1 small and 4 large. A savings of over 5 bucks.

Now normally, I’d never forget Fat Guy in a red shirt. I’d see him again (this is Great Falls) and I’d remember him, and I’d avoid him, because he’s a conniving, 10-sandwhich-eating, entire-cart-hiding, no-math-skill-having piece of crap, and he suckered me into a lane that wasn’t designed to be that slow. And that’s a grudge I could easily hold forever, but, this time was different.

This time, I saved money because fat cashier was an idiot, I got a good laugh at the two of them in math class, and I don’t know when I’ll ever see someone who can actually hide an entire shopping cart with their body again!

* footnote 1: Stay tuned for the feature spotlight "Slim's Hate for Fat Carts"
**footnote 2: Stay tuned for an upcoming entry on "Slim's Theory on Cashiers and Food Service Jobs"