Lady Tells Me to Go %$@^% Myself

The lady’s kids appeared out of the mist, bearing armfuls of products gathered from the far reaches of the vast big box store. They threw their bounty into her shopping cart sitting in front of me in the checkout lane, the pile growing ever larger, before venturing off for another load.

“Excuse me!” I said brightly. She looked up from the mound of clothing, shampoo and fidget spinners.

“Hi, I picked this line after carefully evaluating the contents of each cart in each line, estimating this line to have the shortest wait between me and my car. Your kids are throwing off my calculations.”

“Really?” she smiled. “Well, gee, why don’t you go $%^&$#$*% yourself? How do you calculate that?”