buying a pumpkin. She chose a small one, and put it in her cart, then proceeded to buy some other grocery items. The usual: milk, eggs, oj, bread, crackers, cheese and some lettuce and bologna. Oh, and tissues, she needed a box. On the way to the register, she grabbed a few health bars.
Yeah, the atmosphere in the store was no different than any other place. People didn't really converse - except maybe to quietly grumble about this or that. Mostly, as they shopped, their attention was focused on one or more videos being played...well about anywhere there was room. Needless to say, sometimes quarrels broke out ... the usual, but socially acceptable, blasphemous, obscenities, cursings. Sometimes, there was a floor show, especially when two work/or otherwise weary and typically highly agitated strung-out females (women wasn't really a proper noun to utter in society) would screech at each other, and begin to duke it out.
A time or two, Becky had almost become uncomfortably close to one of those situations. As a matter of fact, was only last week, a 3-eye (that's a term one NEVER utters in "polite" company) started in on her - and there was no rational reason for it. Needless to say, Becky left her cart - with stuff she really needed - and got herself the heck out of there. Oh but guess what: The crazy broad (another illegal term) had chased her almost to the door. Thank the Lord for having sent the downpour outside. There was no way our skinny heroine would have come away from that - that is, without an ambulance ride to the nearest medical facility.
Anyway, the store being not too crowded, and appearing at least reasonably safe to shop in, Becky headed for the checkout. The sullen-faced cashier (whose expression matched about everyone else's) rang up her sale. Becky - who no longer carried a purse, for obvious reasons - reached into her pocket and took out two $50s; she only had bought a few items.
"Didn't you read the sign?" the cashier snapped.
"Uh, what sign?"
"That sign, blondie (a rude term, which was socially acceptable.), the cashier pointed to a poster, hanging right above the "customer (they really did NOT) care" center.
"But, but, i was just here the other day, there was no sign."
"Well there is now! We no longer accept cash!"
"But why?" Our Becky was dumbfounded.
"Because cash and checks are unsanitary, that's why!"
Hmmph, Becky thought to herself, while reaching for her credit card, that what goes on at various pleasure palaces (that were about everywhere, and catered to one or more "income-castes" (YES, that was a socially acceptable term)...such goings on were sanitary??? Was all Becky could do to not let out a snorty laugh.
She inserted her card into the reader. It read "Inactive." A third person got in line. Already, patience from both the cashier, and the other two customers, was waxing thin. Becky inserted the card again. And again, the same message.
"WTF?!" Becky tried a third time. Same message.
"Is there a problem?" came a snarky voice to Becky's right. The sneery expression, just oozed - like yesterday's ... ew!
"Yeah, there's a f*ing problem! Becky snapped! "There's nothing wrong with the cash i have to pay for these groceries."
"Ma'am, you know such outbursts are not permitted on the premises..."
"F*k you, and your premises!" Becky grabbed her card from the reader, left the cart sit, and proceeded to walk out.
Almost at her heels, mr.prettypalms continued his nannyish chide-fest, of threatening to call the authorities. Becky turned around 180 degrees, flipped him the bird, turned back around and headed to her car.
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