So I did the groceries today…
…having received the shopping list from my dad right after review. I really didn’t mind, considering that I actually enjoyed the increased responsibility. I got the job done without delay, while sneaking in some personal goods here and there, including some four full bags of Lays (don’t judge me, it’s my passion). Nothing too hard: some seasoning, cooking oil, vegetables, and two kilograms of meat.
I’d have to say, I felt confident: confident that I would soon be a proper functioning member of society. ‘If this is how adulthood feels like, then I’m ready any day…’ or so I thought.
Soon I came to the checkout counter, waiting in line for a few minutes, then unloading onto the conveyor the items from my cart. A few minutes later, all was on the conveyor except the meats, which were dripping wet. It soon hit me that I would have to ask for a tray. Soon, I started to rehearse that one line, just one sentence, imagining myself going up to the checkout girl to simply ask for a tray. My heart started racing, soon enough, I broke out into cold sweat, all the while assuring myself that it was just one simple sentence; people ask for trays all the time.
If it didn’t occur at all to you, I get pretty awkward with any contact with strangers. I’m troubled squeezing into crowds, or doing errands where I would actually have to talk to someone just to get done (as you can also see, I’m an advocate of self-service and online shopping). From simply asking for change at a counter to entering the cycle of being interrupted-and-then-simply-stared-at by salesladies, I tend to end up choking, oftentimes swallowing my own words where nothing but gibberish makes it out, and then composing myself through a series of loud and unintentionally rude commands on what I want.
I’m sure now you can guess what happened. To cut to the chase, I uttered at the checkout lady a series of grunts which should have resembled a sentence, then, facing her confused and somewhat annoyed stare, blurted out ‘TRAY’ while pointing out the dripping bags of meat in the cart.
I’m then handed the tray, the checkout lady looking perturbed, and me, having lost my confidence, sinking down into a frustrated state of mind. Apparently, there are still things I need to work on before I can be considered a proper functioning member of society.
There’s a lot more to adulthood than just doing the groceries, really.
