The Rage: No, Not a Bad Stephen King Novel Remake, My Life.

Let me preface this posting with this, there are VERY few things in this world that turn me into an anal-retentive psychopath. Type-A personality is not something I'm known for having. To be quite honest, I'm pretty laid back and I don't take a lot of things seriously. All that being said, I freely admit that I'm a neurotic schizoid when it comes to how my groceries are bagged. Don't hate, we all have our own thing, grocery bagging it mine so step off!

Why am I anal retentive about something that seems so ridiculous? Well, why not! Mainly, I get irritated because this is not a task that requires any great skill. It's basically a little bit of common sense combines with a mild capacity to pay attention. Here's the dilly yo, meat doesn't get put into the same bag with soap, canned goods do not get placed on top of bread or eggs, and you cannot put 67 cans of beans in a plastic bag or it will break.

I realize that I am so particular, so I go the extra mile for my slack-jawed cashier because they always appear to be very busy drooling on themselves when it's my turn to have my order rung. I actually place my items on the conveyor belt in very distinct groups: cold items, boxed items, canned items, meats, produce etc., you get the picture. The point is, even a drool box should be able to figure out how to appropriately bag my items. However, upon a recent trip to my favorite Meijer, the forecast was an 89% chance of bananas on top of grapes and sour cream ending up in the same bag with Q-Tips and bodywash. These things weren't even in neighboring piles! How do you mess that up?!

Let me tell you a little ditty about when I first started rocking Meijer's world. When I was 16, my first official job title was "bagger". I was a professional grocery bagger and I was pretty darn awesome, I must admit. Trust me, if my mom will let you bag her groceries, you're pretty good. My mom is not above ripping her own daughter a new one if she bags groceries poorly. So, I know from experience how little brain power it takes to stack boxes of cereal and NOT squash someone's bread.

So, I go to the store and I knew I was in trouble when I saw my cashier wipe her mouth on the back of her hand. I wasn't aware that it was neanderthal day at my local grocers, honestly, there should've been a sign. Not only did she not care about my grocery bagging needs, she mocked the act of bagging in a way that caused my blood pressure to rise to nearly aneurysm level. First, she SPIKED my mushrooms into the bag, Chad Johnson style and I thought "Unless you just signed a $40 million contract with the Colts, you'd better not spike my produce." Then steam came from my ears when this idiot put bananas on top of my grapes. HUH?! On what ape-ridden planet is it acceptable to place anything on top of grapes? Then she starts eeny meeny miney mo-ing to chose things at random from my meticulously arranged piles. So there I am in the parking lot, re-bagging my entire order because this girl had the mental capacity of old cornmeal.