You know who shits me these days?, bitter old check out ladies.

I think they know their days are numbered, their time of power is waning. No more will they take a set against you, waiting until they get to an inappropriate item, then foist it aloft yelling, “Price check on Home brand Lube!!”.

Today i was asked,

‘Do you want your Disney collectors cards?’,

Yes please, my little nephews collect them.

‘Here’s three’,

Aren’t I supposed to get one for every twenty dollars spent?,

‘That’s all I have’,

Can you get some more?,

‘No’.

Then came the stare down, my patented ‘Riiiiiiiiiiiiight’, and the delightful discomfort of the people waiting in line behind me.

She was treating me like a dealer wielding power over a junkie. I gathered up my creme fraiche and hissed, ‘Self service!!’.

Your days of crushing loaves of bread will soon be over honey.

A few months ago a guy at Woolies in Wollongong started scanning my stuff,

“How’s your day sir!?”,

With the weight of my reality i responded,

Mate, it’s 7.00pm on a Saturday night, I’m shopping alone, and have soup for one in my trolley, how do you think my fucking night is going??.

His eyes lit up . .

“Thank you, THANK YOU!, I have to ask everyone that question!, the only thing people ever say is, ‘Fine’. THANK YOU for telling me the truth!”.

The gay boy check out chicks love me too. I always present my items for scanning, first in order of cleaning products, then bottled goods, then cold/frozen groceries, and lastly bread, in its own bag, ‘Of course sir’.

I always get a knowing nod from them.