This is un frickin believable.
I’m going though All-mart to pick up condoms.
Yes, AGAIN. (See previous article).
I’m trying to use a little taste and discretion in my efforts to practice safe sex and you’d think the Almighty would cut me a break.
I covered the contraband with a DVD and a cell phone, and then I wheeled the basket to the checkout line. So far, so good. I looked for one of the automatic checker machines. Most of them were closed, but I found one.
When I passed the cell phone under the scanner, the floor manager bustles up to me. “I’ll have to help you with that, sir. She mashes an interminable number of buttons before it accepts my purchase. And then she rings up the rest of my items until she sees the condoms. “Do you want to ring those up yourself?” she asked as she recoiled.
Geez lady, they’re still in their sealed packets. You’re safe.
She leaves me to complete the transaction, but of course the machine is cranky, so the guy behind me steps up to help me through the process. “Thanks,” I mumble. He has a huge grin on his face as he watches me shuffle away.
I get to the exit. The alarm sounds as I walk through the sensors. I figure the DVD set it off. I hand it to a woman who looks like my Aunt Flossy. She resets the alarm and we tried again.
This time it sounds even louder.
The woman figures I’m in a hurry, so she tries to help me by pawing through my bag herself. Then she scrutinizes my receipt.
At least she didn’t call out on the loudspeaker:
“ATTENTION, NEED A PRICE CHECK ON EXTRA THIN, LUBRICATED, DUREX BRAND CONDOMS.”
Finally, they let me go and I make it out the door.
I swear it would have been easier to smuggle them across the border when I came home from a Mexico mission trip.