Typically I'll look up to find a kid with contoured zits that would make the local ski hills jealous. He'll respond in a squeaky voice and ask me if I want a bag. I know if he were Jewish, the barmitzfah has not happened yet.
Everything from a cashier's mannerisms to the phrasing of the question screams the general consensus of the public; plastic bags are an evil evil thing. So evil, that the word needs to be emphasized by writing it twice.
"Do you want a BAG for that?" They inquire.
Of course, I stand empty handed and I have to calculate. The output of energy over the amount of items needed to juggle divided by the number of doors I have to open singlehandedly to the weight times the amount of residual patience. I say yes please.
I know deep down they have taken the piece of chalk and gone up that wall of primitive tally of bags used and wasted that very day. I hate to remind them that there is someone behind me that is going to buy yet another clothe bag that apparently breeds bacteria to somehow save the planet. It will make them look more eco-friendly while making them one more unit of spending closer to being in debt. But it's a small price to pay for having an ego the size of Alaska when you know that both you and the cashier know that your eco footprint has the "inferred" suggestion of being smaller than everyone else's. But it's a well-kept secret because your neighbours know that you live in a mansion that is lit up 24/7 and that your Hummer is the older model that is more of a gas guzzler. But don't let anyone know. They might miss that huge tank of a vehicle barreling down the road side-saddling the curb and the road.
But really it is only suggested by the fact that you bought another clothe bag. That clothe bag was also used to purchase only frozen foods that are all individually packed and processed. The bag is quantifiable.
It will make its way also to a dump site.
However, you have just built a fifteen second friendship with the cashier because they are the ultimate environmental consultant when it comes to reminding you just how bad of a person you are for having purchased a 20 cent plastic bag.
For a fraction of approval if the item that you are purchasing is smaller than a bread box, you'd rather make the cashier smile and look like a total bafoon cradling the items under your forarm and your armpit out to your car, than risk the scathing stare when you reply that you will need a plastic bag. You mine as well have suffocated their goldfish.
So to end on a positive note and just point out merely an observation more than anything, that we hate to be hated at the check out, either shop at a store that still does paper bags - after all it is still a renewable resource (a shout out to Thrifty's) or never buy anything that you can't carry out of a store if you happen to forget that stack of bags from home.
1 comment:
You are completely wrong. Cashiers hate those stupid renewable bags. People expect us to somehow get their 20+ items into one renewable bag without squishing their stuff, despite them having put their items in a completely ridiculous order on the conveyor belt. It also takes twice, sometimes three times, as long to bag, and takes 5 times the brain power to somehow turn their broccoli and cereal into puzzle pieces that have to fit intricately into their soggy, misshapen bag without being too heavy and without squishing any of their items, all the while balancing their bag onto the bag rack that it doesn't fit on and trying to hold up the sides of the bags while you place things in the bag, sometimes angrily smashing cans onto the apples when they aren't looking. Keep up the plastic bags. I treat customers better if they use plastic bags and there is nothing more relieving than seeing a person with a giant order and NO cloth bags.
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