A Fishy Situation

Why is it whenever you have a limited amount of time to get something done, you end up surrounded by incompetent morons?

Case in point, Friday afternoon I had a small window of time to run out and get a few errands done. Food shopping at Shop-Rite was one of those errands. First thing on the list was to hit the fish department for some clams for Saturday night's dinner. Because the deli area/fish department can be crowded, I ran over there first to see how much time it would take.

Good news, only one woman in front of me and she's in the middle of her order. How long can it take right? Unlike cold cuts where someone might order four or five different items, fish purchases are usually only one or two items.

It seemed that the worker was taking a longer time to get the fish together than was necessary, but whatever, how long could it take right? Ok, she finishes with that item and the customer orders something else. A dozen craw-fish. A dozen crawfish. Now a dozen crawfish aren't really enough to do anything much with, but that's not my business. My business was watching the worker attempt to reach the crawfish which were in a plastic bowl toward the front of the refrigerated case.

Now if it was me, I would grab that plastic bowl out of the case so I would not need to reach into it. But no. The worker decided to reach in and... stretching as far as she could and grabbing them ONE BY ONE.

I stood there in total disbelief. I looked at the woman whose order was being filled and by the look on her face, this did not seem odd. That might have been even scarier than the idiot behind the counter. So after reaching into the case twelve separate times, the order was complete and it was my turn.

Two dozen Little Neck clams. I thought I might lose it completely if I saw her start to grab one clam at a time, but no, something even better. There were three types of clams for sale and she did not know the difference between them. So as I stood there mentally hearing the tick-tock of minutes passing, she decided her day was too tough, gave up, and called over another worker to complete the order.

It should have taken maybe seven minutes for the woman in front of me to finish her order, and mine to be filled as well. It took twenty.

Tick Tock.

No Kidding Around

Not these Kids

I don't have kids.

I may have mentioned that a hundred or more times, but in case any of you may have forgotten, I don't. Never wanted them, not a kid person, give me a dog any day of the week. Oh zip it all you parents looking down your noses, I believe we should all... in the words of Dirty Harry, "know our limitations."

I know mine, and it was never gonna be wiping someone else's ass for two years. And while that was indeed something that entered my mind many times when I was young enough to consider having kids, it was more of the knowledge of really not being cut out for it, and not able to cope with the 24/7, 365 day, twenty year commitment.

I did however become a step-monster of a fourteen-year old a shitload of years ago. I was lucky, he was great. Love and respect were never an issue, and I could not be more proud of the man he has become. That kiddo is now thirty-nine, and will soon become a father. This makes me a sort of step-grandmonster. Sort of.

Now the family is pretty small, but what we do have are some extras. As in the step kind. So the question has come up on what we all want to be known as when the baby, who won't be showing up until the spring, gets around to talking to us. oy.

Now those of you who know me can stop laughing right now. We all know some little crumb crusher calling me Granny ain't never gonna happen. I thought I remembered Joan Rivers saying when her grandson was born she wanted to be called Queen. Since the nickname I've embraced for many years has been Queen Bitch, it seemed a possible option.

Then it came to me; I could really dig being in a store with this barely walking toddler and he or she calls out "Hot Stuff." Hell yeah. The parents-to-be seemed to be the only ones who thought this was not an unthinkable option... and that's why I love them both. Oh and my beautiful niece thought it was cool too... but then she always thought I was a kick-ass aunt.

Most others thought it would be too hard for the baby to pronounce. I don't. So unless we can come up with something just as fabulous, Hot Stuff it is. This step-grandmonster is gonna rock.

Just saying.