I went shopping yesterday. We went to the French place called Tarjay.
They took a page from CostCo and moved everything around, so people who have been shopping there for years can't find anything. I wonder who in the organization thought this was a good idea.
Also in the questionable department was certain rows that didn't survive the tornado that blew through them. It was either a tornado or they hired large amounts of people to randomly throw clothes at the ground. Some of them missed.
I was looking for some tanks, of the wearable variety. Naturally there were none by the model that was wearing one. Through serious detective work, Wife found them. Hundreds of feet away from the section where they belonged. Good going, Tarjay.
The real fun started when we tried to pay for them. We're a pretty honest group; we like to pay for things. This was made difficult by only two cashiers out of 147 lanes. I guess Manglement didn't think there would be any customers on the weekend. Even the self-checkout lanes were mobbed. We were carefully considering leaving the cart there.
The most laughable moment came in the checkout lane, where a masked customer asked me to give her more space. Why should I have to pay for her neuroses? The mask is way past done, and doesn't work anyway. Maybe she's a Fauci. The cashier was in tears as we talked about El Masko.
This is the sort of thing that happens whenever I leave the house and is why I don't get out much.
It's like a dream come true. I love dogs and I love flamethrowers!
Lead From Gasoline Blunted the IQ of About Half the U.S. Population, Study Says
Well... that explains a lot....
