Dear Grocery-Store Employees

I’m going to address this to all of you, even though not all of you bag groceries, because maybe you can stop this dreadful incident from occurring again.

Specifically, though, I want to talk to the baggers. To the bottom of the totem pole people, the ones stuck with all the worst jobs I’m sure. I don’t want to yell at you guys. You do have a tough job, and God knows you work hard for your money, fetching carts and replacement items and price checks and helping stupid people who can’t find their car or their keys or their asses. You’re pretty damn good at sorting things as they come at you, and bagging them up fast and well. I imagine Tetris is too much like work for you, and that Grand Theft Auto is a great stress-reliever.

I’m not difficult to please. I don’t care if all my frozen stuff goes in one bag except for, oops!, the bag of frozen spinach you toss in with my fresh veggies. I’m not going to scold if you don’t see my bags coming down and start sticking stuff in that planet-killing plastic. And I also imagine that by now, considering how many times it’s happened, I should have learned to keep an eye on my own damned bread.

But still. You should have been trained on this, and clearly you weren’t, so I’ll make mention of it.

The bread does not go under the eggs. If the customer has eggs and bread, your job is easy–eggs, then bread. Ta da, bag done! Just remember that the bread always goes on top.

It does not belong under the eggs, as mentioned. It doesn’t go under the tortillas. Though they are both bread-like products, tortillas are both heavier and less prone to squishing. Especially by bread.

It does not go upright in a bag with a bag of apples. That bag of apples does not stay the shape it is when you put it in the bag, hanging it from your hand.

It does not go in a bag with a gallon of milk, and why are you bagging my milk anyway when I asked you not to?

The problem with bread is that it’s squishable, and it’s just not as edible after it’s squished. It makes my sandwiches be funny shapes, and you cannot mess with my sandwiches and expect me to take it quietly.

The wonder of bread is that it’s light, and can go on top of practically anything without damaging it. So I’ll make you a deal. I won’t buy potato chips, and if I buy flowers I’ll carry them myself. You put my bread on top of any old thing you want to–that’s why I always make sure to send it down to you last–and not next to or under anything. And we will both live happily ever after.

Doesn’t that sound good?