My Encounter with The Frozen Food Nazi

For some reason, the weirdest things seem to happen to me. Oddballs seem to be drawn to me, and I know not why. Perhaps I don’t want to know, amirite?

Anywho, today I had to run some errands and at one point ended up in The Krog, a supermarket here in southern Ohio sometimes referred to as Krogers. As I was checking out the frozen food section (Michelina’s was on sale, 10 items for $10, a helluva deal for a bachelor like myself), I noticed out of the corner of my eye a woman staring at me from about 10-feet away. For a gentleman of dashing good looks such as myself, this is not unusual. However, in this case the lady looked a little, well, upset.

What horrendous deed had I committed? Had she seen me eat that grape in the fruit aisle? Being the aggressive shopper that I am, had I cut her off over in Milk & Dairy? I had no idea.

At that point I she began walking towards me. I sensed trouble. That’s when the following conversation commenced:

Lady: “Can I give you some advice?”

Me: “Sure, I guess. What’s up?”

Lady: “If you stand there with the door open the windows fog over. Then the next person can’t see the food. It’s sort of rude.”

You know, I try to be as courteous as possible with people. I open doors for folks, let people cross the street in front of me, stuff like that. But in all my life it has never occurred to me that I shouldn’t hold the door open too long in the frozen food section of a grocery store.

Me: “Why can’t they just open the door like I do? It’s not that hard.”

Then I proceeded to open and close the door approximately 10-times, smiling maniacally while never taking my eyes off the lady. I don’t really know why I did this, other than the fact that she’d thrown in that “It’s sort of rude” comment at the end and it pissed me off. It was unnecessary and uncalled for, damn it.*

*That’s called rationalizing your sarcastic and belligerent behavior, folks. Hey, at least I recognize my faults.

The lady just sort of stormed off in a huff, but our story wasn’t over. Later on, as I was at the self-checkout station, I sensed somebody over my shoulder. Sure enough, it was the Frozen Food Nazi . . .

Lady: “May I ask you a question?”

Me: “You just did.”

Because you know, I’m quick like that.

Lady: “Seriously, this has been bothering me since I spoke to you earlier. Are you somebody?”

Huh? Am I somebody? What the hell is that supposed to mean? Isn’t everybody somebody? So I said the first thing that came to mind:

Me: “Yes I am.”

Then I grabbed my bags and walked way. But guess what? My experience with the Frozen Food Nazi still wasn’t over.

In the parking lot, as I was opening my car door, I hear this from a few cars away:

“I’m so sorry! I was the rude one! It was none of my business!”

Seems the Frozen Food Nazi had seen the light. I just waved and got in my Jeep.

You can’t make this stuff up, folks.