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An open letter to the Food Lion on South Main
Dear Food Lion,
I don't know what the hell it is about you, but I've come to the conclusion that I am simply unable to shop at your fine establishment without interference of the unwelcome variety.
For a while, I couldn't pass through your sliding glass doors without being harassed by the creepy man who apparently stocks your shelves 24/7 (or else just really has my schedule down). You know the one - medium complexion, shaved head, looks like he's recently been paroled from prison, thinks it's totally cool to walk up to customers and start conversations re: Whether Or Not They Got A Man. That one. And even though he eventually got it through his skull that I Do, In Fact, Got A Man, I still get stares while I'm bending over to get a gallon of milk. It's kind of creepy, FL. (Can I call you FL? We're friends, right?)
So anyway, last night I thought we were cool and it was safe to go shopping again. And just as I was about to get out of my car, I noticed a man staring straight at me over top of the vehicle parked between us. I was hoping it was nothing, but given our history, FL, I was just a little concerned. Just to be safe I tried every contact-discouraging thing I could think of, hoping he'd just leave. I looked down and rummaged through my purse; I opened up my cell phone and pretended to carry on a conversation... all to no avail, as he walked over and tapped on my window. "Dammit," I sighed to myself, and rolled it down a little.
"I saw you sitting here," he said, "and I thought, pretty girl like you, I'd see if you wanted to come see a movie with me some time."
Which, granted, is a big step up from the You Got A Mans of the world, but still, can't I just buy my damn groceries in peace? I mean... that's within the realm of reasonable requests, right?
Either way, please let me know what sort of pagan ritual or spiritual interpretive dance I've got to perform to get this shit sorted out. I will scatter charred animal bones and feathers in your parking lot and do the goddamn macarena in the debris if that's what it takes for me to be able to shop in you without incident... because you are the only store on my way home, and I am too lazy to drive the extra couple miles to Wal-Mart.
Love,
Jenny
5 Comments |
Tuesday November 27th 2007 at 4:27pm from Jenny +
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http://youtube.com/watch?v=AQyDSL1rQVQ
I live that video every time I go to the damn Food Lion. Maybe it's all the orange spandex I've got on...
What is it about creepy men and grocery stores?
When one hits on me, I usually say something like, "Oh, my gawd, a MAN who likes me! Yeah, baby! Let's go get married right now! I need someone to help support my 12 kids!!!!"
That usually does it.
If Rebecca's suggestion doesn't work (and I think it will)- I have a ritual you might try.
Next time, before he even opens his mouth pop him square in the nose. He won't be able to say much after that because he'll have his hands over his face trying to stop all that blood that will come gushing out.
Just a thought.
Seriously- the Food Lion must have some pretty lousy managers if they won't take care of that. I was a grocery store manager at one point in my life and I booted a guy's ass right out the door for harassing women employees and customers. This guy's one of my neighbors even- and he still don't talk to me which is fine because I never wanted him around my house anyway.)
Hahaha, those are both great ideas!
I'll try Rebecca's first, though. Orange spandex is fine, but I don't want to wear an orange jumpsuit every day for an extended period of time. ;)