I zipped into Zehrs today to pick up some pizza fixin’s as the vote had determined, Mommy was to make fresh pizza dough, roll it out and serve it to the family along with some friends but nobody but Mommy knew we were totally out of toppings.

I stopped to pick up a variety of cheeses and toppings, passing the Glee singers at the front entrance of the grocery store singing “Baby You’re A Firework” and wishing I wasn’t rushing past with a louder than necessary cart which totally disrupted their concert and maybe even made their colours burst.

I opted to pay at the “U-Scan” section because I had just a few items and felt I had the mental capacity to figure it out.

That never goes smoothly. The first time it asked me to remove an item and scan it again but I opted not to. It was clearly on the screen, “goat feta, $4.99” why would I re-scan it to be charged twice for the same cheese? I was now on their radar and my u-caricature was being printed and posted at all entry/exits.

I inserted the chip from my debit card, looked around at other shoppers and eventually took note of the u-scanner beside me who was also waiting for his transaction to conclude. This intense grocery store gaze was enough to capture the attention of the attendant who informed us the debit machines were down but credit cards were working.

We both inserted our credit cards. I saw the “approved” prompt on the machine and left the store. I stopped behind a woman (not by choice) who was counting the strawberries in each of the quarts to be sure she wasn’t going to be short-changed and stopped a second time to an encore presentation of “Baby You’re A Firework” while tip-toeing to my vehicle.

I heard someone politely calling, “Ma’m. Ma’am. Ma’am. Ma’am” Then louder, “Ma’am!” M’aam!!!” And I thought, For F%$# sakes Ma’m, turn around! It turns out, I was Ma’am.

I felt a hand touch my shoulder and as I turned around I noticed a woman in uniform who matched the “Ma’am voice.” She said, “Ma’am, you didn’t pay for your groceries.”

“What?”

“You didn’t pay for your groceries.”

No, I heard you but what?

Ma’am lady informed me that the guy beside me (who I thought was my debit card ally) told her I became frustrated when I learned about the debit cards not working so “I took off.”

How was I to take off with all the strawberry counting and the Glee concert out front?

I explained that I waited for the credit card machine to approve the transaction and then I left. I had no receipt to support my story because I didn’t really care how much I spent on some goat feta for pizza so I left before it printed.

As we walked back into the store, “Baby you’re a Firework” as if being shouting angrily at me,  the ma’am lady was waved at and told, “It’s okay, the machines were slow to receive the approvals but the transaction went through.”

She looked at me and said, “Okay, it went through.”

So, I’m just supposed to go home and eat my feta after being accused of feta-lifting? I was a little upset at the way the store handled the whole, “Hey shoplifter! How about you come back in while the Glee cast serenades you with some fireworks and we’ll see if we should send you to jail or let you go home!”

Do you ever feel, like a plastic bag, drifting through the wind, waiting to start again?