An Open Letter to Rainbow Foods Customers,

Hi, my name is Eric. I'm here to buy a loaf of bread, some yogurt and a bag of apples. I see you have a cart. That is nice. Doing all of the shopping for the week? Kids no doubt need your sugar cereals and frozen pizzas. Gushers, nom nom nom. Chips galore, cookies, pop, Axe body spray, tatter tots, Brawny towels, etc. With those last few choices, its starting to look like a weird orgy/ pot luck. The excitement of possible fornication and carb loading seems to left you with an inability to scan all of your items properly. Nope missed the laser again, try once more. There you go, only 50 more things to scan. Glad you chose to go to the self service line. Is it because you thought it would be faster then someone who works there doing it? Cause all the people in those lines will be gone by the time you start trying to put coupons in the machine. Is it to build up your independence? Did Coach McKowski tell you you would never amount to anything in gym class? You'll show him. "I scanned all my own groceries! Fuck you McKowski!" Thats no way to make up for a lackluster breast stroke. Why are you wasting everyone's time. The Self service is for like 15 items or less. Maybe 20. Exceptions are made for competence. You seem to lack this. You can't pit it back in your cart after scanning... Come on. Now the weight scale is off. Yep look around like a deer who wandered out of the woods into the express lane, deers don't like Funyons. You are holding everything up, you should be Bambi-ed*. Finally you're done. Watch It takes me 90 seconds to scan and pay. That's what this aisle is for. Now I can leave. Sigh... Oh how lovely. Guess whose overweight partner has been parked in the middle of the parking aisle that whole time. Invest in Simon Delivers, and save yourself the perpetual sweating and putting on your best sweats.

Love,
Eric

*Bambi's mom was the one that got shot. If Bambi had been shot, it would have resembled a deer version of In The Bedroom. Marisa Tomei would make a hot Doe.
Thumper... an inside job?