It’s still here—the list.

Youngest and I, the day she and her mother came, were about to rush off to buy clothes. I told her we would also stop at Food Lion, so could she please help me with my list. “Yellow bananas,” I instructed (meaning ripe). “Just write yell b, y-e-l-l b.”

“And white beans,” I said, because I wanted to make soup, “w b-e-a-n-s.”

“And I have to speak with a manager,” I said. The day before at Food Lion the cashier person had swiped my BOGO coupons but the discounts hadn’t registered on my receipt. “Argue,” I instructed Youngest, “a-r-g-u-e.”

So while she waited in the grocery cart, the hunky kind with steering wheels and seat belts (both the driver’s side and the passenger’s), like she was my chauffeur or something, I took up my case with Lady Manager, pleasant about it. The office still had my coupons. Lady Manager, smiling, no hint on her face of what she was really thinking (“Dummy! Tightwad!”), gave them back. She said I could use them again.

It wasn’t an argument—anything like that.

 


 

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