That wasn’t the end of my irks. It was hardly even annoying. A better person than I (or a better mood) would have made a light joke, if anything, out of the experience.

Today is Sunday. I left the house an hour ago to run a few easy errands. I intended to visit Long’s for sunflower seeds. I know that a drugstore is an odd place to go for sunflower seeds, but the grocery store doesn’t seem to have them lately. I also wanted to drop by the used bookstore on the same block, to pick up a copy of Gone to Soldiers by Marge Piercy, for my mother. It’s about growing up during WWII, as she did, and I think she’ll enjoy it. My final planned stop was at the seedless grocery store, for some fruit and vegetables. Naively I figured I could run these errands without undue notice from my fellows.

Long’s had lots of sunflower seeds. I like the 5.75 oz bag, and I pulled three of those off the metal rod. I also selected a package of eight chocolate chunk pecan cookies. I proceeded to the register with my four items, where I got to interact with the heavy-set young woman behind the counter. She looked mixed-race, with dark golden plump skin, and she had long hair, apparently straightened, pulled in flat curving bangs across her domed brow and down the right side of her rounded face. She acted manically friendly, and decided to comment on my purchases. “These look good,” she said as she dropped the package of cookies into the plastic bag that was suspended by a frame on her side of the scanner. “And yes,” she continued as she pulled the red bags of sunflower seeds over the glass reader, “I always like to balance the salt snacks with the sweets, too.” She looked up at me then with a conspiratorial grin, and I thought “Huh? What’s with this girl? Why does she think it’s okay to make comments about my purchases? And why does she assume it’s all for me and for today?” I mean, it probably is all for me, but it isn’t all for now, and it’s not all I have around.

My total came to $6.16. I wasn’t carrying any coins. It’s another small thing, but it would have been lovely not to have received the 4 pennies back. I guess Long’s doesn’t have a good-cents policy.

I was more grumpy when I left Long’s than when I entered. I also had heavier pockets.

Next stop: the bookstore. Not only did they not have the book I wanted, but the woman at the entrance made me surrender my Long’s bag.

This woman was not a kid. She was at least 40. And not only am I not likely to be a shoplifter, but the Long’s bag is translucent white plastic, and it’s very obvious what’s inside. “Do I really have to?” was my first response to her “Excuse me: please check your bag.”

“It’s just food,” I added as I showed it to her, but she informed me that this was store policy; to be consistent they require that every bag be checked. (Bullshit. I’ve shopped there for ten years and never surrendered a bag.)

I handed over my poor sunflower seeds and cookies, and accepted the playing-card piece she gave me as a receipt.

It took about 90 seconds to determine that Gone to Soldiers was neither on the Literature nor Pocket Book Fiction shelves.

I spent twice that long getting my bag back, because it was behind the register and there were two customers waiting to pay. The woman who had insisted on taking custody of my food acted deaf and blind not six feet away, but (clearly) her job description includes the policing task of taking bags but not the relatively pleasant job of giving them back. I had to get a little forceful and announce to the cashier that I was stepping behind the counter to retrieve my bag. I had to observe her anxiety as I almost left the place without removing the clothespin and matching playing-card piece.

Okay…