A Warning To All Adolescent Male Grocery Cashiers

Keep in mind that I am not, by any means, a feminist, but tonight, I am feeling a bit snarky.

As if going to Walmart and grocery shopping for a family of four wasn't thrilling enough, tonight I was faced with a situation that, I feel, warrants a documentation of the inner monologue I was having after an adolescent male cashier asked me, "So, do you have a husband waiting for you at home?" Bad idea, man. Bad idea.

No, as a matter of fact, I don't. Just me. No husband, but thank you for reminding me of that fact. I appreciate it. As if I didn't have a long enough day, now I have to come here, alone (no husband, of course), to shove an overflowing cartful of stuff around, that now I have to be subjected to you, someone who is likely legally a juvenile, reminding me of my place in life, and/or attempting to hit on me. Bravo.

Oh wait, now you're probably wondering, "My goodness, woman! This heap of groceries is just for you?" Wrong again, blondie. Can I call you "Chad"? You look like a "Chad" to me. Well, Chad, not only do I not have the husband you inquired about, but I'm a single mom to three kids. Doesn't that just sound rad, Chad? I'll bet you're looking forward to the day when you, yourself, get to drop nearly $200 out of your teeny-tiny paycheck every week, to buy groceries, huh? It's fantastic, let me tell you.

Yes, Chad, I am without a husband. Please, oh please don't try to make up for your inappropriate question by asking if I have a boyfriend. You have dug yourself into a hole, and there is no getting out of it now. Nope, no boyfriend, either, Chad. Just me. Did you see anything in this cart that would indicate that I have a boyfriend? Had you been more observant, you would've noticed the bag of chocolate gem donuts and a few TV dinners, which are both standard-issue Single Mom With No Man In Her Life Equipment. Do those things just scream "romance" to you, Chad? Do they? Didn't think so.

Man, look at all of these groceries, Chad! Can you believe it? $178-worth of stuff. Oh, c'mon, you don't have to try to make me feel better by saying that I got a lot for $178. You can't redeem yourself, and you know it. The can of worms has been opened, and you have unleashed the fury of a single working mom, now. Time to just shut your mouth and nod your head, Chad, if you know what's good for ya. Two giant bags of dog food, this week's groceries, food-drive items, and would you believe that I get to unload all of this stuff by myself when I get home? That's all because of the husband I don't have, remember? Just me, unloading my groceries, eating my donuts, Chad. Man, I'm so glad you reminded me. I nearly forgot.

Yes, Chad, I'm going to pay for this stuff, out of my teeny-tiny paycheck, load it all into my trunk, hope I don't get mugged in the parking lot (since I don't have a big, strong man to protect me), and drive home, so I can make twenty trips to and from my car to drag it all inside, all when every other woman on the planet is sitting down to have a nice dinner with their husband, who is waiting for them at home. Thank you, Chad. Thank you so much for reminding me that I don't actually need someone waiting for me at home, because I'm doing just fine, all by myself.