I have become that person. I returned a package of cookies to the store yesterday.
In my defense, the box was $7.
The blue frosting should have tipped me off that the cookies would taste like Windex. My organic-crazed friend is hyperventilating reading this post. She is convinced artificial flavoring makes children act like animals and causes every cancer. According to a new study by researchers at John Hopkins University 65% of cancers are caused by bad luck. (Two-thirds of all cancers are caused by random mutations and not genetics or lifestyle factors.) Are you kidding me? Years of walks, runs, etc. to raise money for research and the cure to cancer is “knocking on wood?” Oh, hell no. You’re not done. Get your a** back in that lab.
I never returned food when I was younger. If it was rotten or tasted bad I threw it out. Now, I nearly tackle my children when they take one bite of something and declare, “I’m done.” I will put that in a baggie and you can eat it later. Money doesn’t grow on trees. You don’t waste food in my house. Nor do you throw anything in the trash can in the guest bathroom. I don’t need another chore. It is just a decoration unless you are a guest. If you ever lived in my uterus, walk four steps to the the kitchen trash can and close the lid.
I walked into the store and was greeted by a clerk.
The wholesale club has a clerk guard the door in case someone tries to steal a case of peanut butter and 3 gallon jug of mayonnaise. Who the hell is sneaking out of the store with this merchandise? That person should be the Secretary of Homeland Security.
The guard inquired about my return and picked up a walkie talkie. She radioed ahead to let customer service know I was returning cookies. The announcement echoed throughout the store. I returned the cookies along with my dignity for seven bucks.