There's this corner market that I go into sometimes and I'll just buy a couple cans of Guinness on my way home. The toothless, tattooed 40-something lady that works in there -- I think I saw her running out of a mobile home whacking her man with a rolling pin on Cops! one time -- insists on putting each beer can in its own little brown paper bag, you know, like I just scraped together the change to buy the hooch and I left my "why lie I need a beer" sign outside the front door and I'm going to head across the street to the park to pound them down before the cops find me or I pass out under the sliding board.
Yesterday, I finally said to her, "Can I have those just in one bag, please?" She looked at me like she'd never thought of such a thing in her life, because she probably fires down a half-pint of Kamchatca before noon every day, and then she tried to shove both cans into the one little bag. Riiiiip! She was completely nonplussed. "Look," I said, "Two beers in one bag, you're gonna need a bigger bag."
I know it's hard to find good help these days, but that woman is definitely on the wrong side of the counter.
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that reminds me of when we were in Palm Springs for Fathers' Day. I bought a six pack of bud and asked the clerk if there was an open container law in PS. he didn't understand my question, so i re-phrased it, "can you drink outside?". he said "in California, you have to have these little bags... and be very careful driving"
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