It wouldn't be Thursday if I didn't have a complaint

First of all, I just want to let it be known that generally I am a happy person. I cruise through life with the same amount of happiness like most people. However, I do not like grocery stores and subsequently the people that frequent them. I have an adage that I think appropriates this rant and it goes: If it wasn't for people, I would be fine. Going to Safeway tonight has confirmed my mantra.

Once I get through the door at Safeway, I decided that I needed to swing by the Starbucks and get some much needed caffeine in order to swiftly navigate through the store. I have a mission: to get in and out fast. I quickly realize that most other people do not heed my sense of urgency.

At the counter at Starbucks, my efforts are immediately thwarted when I have to re-explain that I do not want a scone, muffin or half-priced donut with my coffee. I also am baffled at why the touch screen where I have swiped my debit card won't accept it and therefor the lady has to do it herself repeatedly.

"You must use your card a lot, the strip is worn", she says in a slow, deliberate manner.

"Yeah, well, that tends to happen.."

"Would...you...like...a...."

"No, no scone for me."

So, I now am at the creamer part of my coffee retrieval of which there is none. So, I try to give her the appropriate eye contact to indicate my wishes as she is now helping a young girl and her father. No eye contact for me, thus, no creamer.

"What's...in...a strawberry...frappacino?" says the verbally stunted adolescent.

"Well, it's a..." says the "barista."

At this point, I want to interject: you want to know what a &%**$ frappacino is??!! Well, it's basically a milk shake, kid. Starbucks marketed this specifically for you when creating it. You'll like it, so order it and now, shut up and move along.

I am still standing there and at this point, I am wondering if this little girl needs speech therapy rather than a frappacino because she's still asking questions about the aforementioned "drink".

Finally, the lady sees me and says, "oh....sorry....forgot you needed cream" with an equally slow affectation as the young girl.

I'm wanting to poke my eyes out. I realize that oxygen is sparse here at 6230 feet, but coooooome oooooon.

I now have my cream. I finally can begin my mission.

Whizzing by me as I navigate is a kid with the newest fad, shoes with wheels. They aren't exactly new, but they have recently made a come back and every kid out there has them again. He zips past me causing me to stop and anticipate if I can safely move thus slowing my mission, yet again.

I say to Chas, "That's one fad I wish would go into obscurity".

So, we traverse near the milk. The milk fridge always has loiters. I mean, it's MILK. There are generally 3 kinds at generally the same price. Pick one, and move on. We aren't shopping for cars here, we are shopping for the oldest and most predictable beverage of all time, miiiiillllk. I know right away that I want the fat free organic. I've purchased this same % for my whole consumerist life and I know right where it is. I grab. I go. But no, there is a lady standing right in front of the fridge where my milk is, contemplating her existence and she's no where close to moving. When people want things and are blocked from attaining them, they generally give non-verbals to indicate their desires. In this case, I stand next to the lady, who is now not only blocking my desired % of milk but she is wavering between my fridge and the next. Suddenly, I have a window of opportunity (yes!), so I move in. I grab my milk and before I can turn around and embark onto the produce, she has the NERVE to crowd ME. She goes behind me and reaches in before I have even time to close the door. Oh, I'm sorry, where's the fire, lady? It was like she was a ninja, now you see her, now you don't.

Sigh. I hate people.

Once our cart is full, the ultimate in frustration presents itself: the check-out. I think this is appropriate since people in line literally "check out" and lose all sense of decency and reality. Inevitably there is a pre-teen standing right in between the counter and the gum/candy "impulse buy" rack. Not aware that we are trying to finish up. She looks at us and then back at the candy, then back at us. Clueless. I mean, she was probably 12 and knew she was preventing us from putting our stuff on the conveyor belt. After what I can imagine is a not very pleasant look on my face, she moves and we begin our descent. Thank you!

All in all, the trip took over an hour for just a few items. I was pleasantly surprised how the check out gal didn't butcher Chas' last name per usual, but actually asked us how to pronounce it. That was noble. I usually get versions of my last name that are actually harder to pronounce than my real name. De-l-a-santos? That's the usual. Or "Delasanardo?" That one was my favorite. Geez.

"Nope, nice try. There isn't an L in my name. have a good day and enjoy your career at Safeway."

That's what goes through my head, I wouldn't be so rude as to say that. No way. Not me.

I will say that I am not going back there for a while. I will order my groceries online or get a personal shopper or something. It can be done.

Goodnight. I'm going to take some deep breaths and find my happy place again.