As I browsed the various packages of chicken breasts on display, one of the butchers stood behind me staring.
Make no mistake – she wasn’t waiting to stock the section or anything – she was watching me.
I’m almost certain I’m not on any of the Meat Theft Watch Lists, which left one conclusion. It was a conclusion I tapped into my phone as fast as I could, so that I could recount it here later.
sometimes i am buying meat and the grocery store person comes out and is watching me and i can tell she is like worried i will take her favorite one and i’m like hey this is just meat if you didn’t want to sell it you shouldn’t have asked the meat company to make it stop being an aminal anymore and we look at each other and she takes off her apron and quits and i steal the meat because of overshooting my food budget again because of those extra pretzels last week i bet she wants to kiss me
I didn’t really buy pretzels last week, but the rest of that happened, and my only conclusion is that this woman became distraught over my possible selection of the chicken breasts that she either wanted for herself or for a more worthy customer.
There’s no doubt my cooking technique of “put them on the George Foreman Grill with no seasoning nor sauces” was transparent, and wasn’t going to make for anything close enough to fine dining for this woman’s pseudo-children.
The big lie is I did buy pretzels last week. That’s the point in case you’re being dense.