Fifty cents per can? It's like they're paying us to drink it. (Wait: they kind of have to.)
I remember learning in seventh grade that ambrosia is “food of the gods.” I’m wondering if there’s another succinct term that means “white trash provisions.” Because that’s what Alan I were clearly holding as we stood in line at Walgreens Monday night: frozen buffalo wings, frozen pizza rolls, frozen taquitos, two Gatorades, a Diet Mt. Dew and a six pack of Big Flats, a beer that Walgreens sells for $3/six pack.
Alan seemed embarrassed by our selections, but – I pointed out – it’s not like they had any salads for sale.
We were on our way to my friend Shannon’s house for the night, and we’d told her we would eat dinner before heading over. Neither of us was really hungry though, so we ended up just grabbing some munchies to pop in the oven later in the evening. Which is how we ended up in line at a Walgreens.
What was weird about the line is that although we were the next customers to be helped, the people in front of us took FOREVER. The lady at the register to our right was flashing around a mailer with coupons and kept disappearing to check the prices on the shelves. To our left, the customer had forgotten something and returned to the freezer section to get it.
Alan and I surmised that apparently the protocol was to disappear for a while once the cashier started to ring up your items. “What do you think we should go get when it’s our turn?” I asked him.
“Something for heartburn,” he suggested.
My response? “Well, at this pace we’re going to need to go fetch and buy a roll of paper towels to wipe up their floor, because I really have to pee.” Accurate.
Anyway, when it finally was our turn, we advanced to the left checkout counter, where an eager, diabetic clerk awaited us. Oh, did I mention he was diabetic?
Regardless of what was said, he managed to devise a response that referred to his diabetes.
Flu shot? “Always, especially with my diabetes it’s a good idea.”
Happy Holidays? “Not for me, what with my diabetes I really can’t eat the sweets.”
I’m actually not convinced his tax return states his profession as a “cashier” at Walgreens. I’m thinking he’s actually employed by the American Diabetes Association as an evangelist. Or he’s functioning as a point-of-sale marketing agent for OneTouch, hoping to identify other diabetics at checkout and point them toward the testing supplies.
Needless to say, he probably found our haul very discouraging. Though if we keep this diet rolling, in about ten years we WILL be commiserating with him.
pithypants 
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