A Tisket a Tasket, I'm Going to Hit You With My Basket

Earlier today as I was penetrating the freshness seal on my grated Parmesan, I was instantly transported back in time remembering it's difficult journey from the Giant to my kitchen. Let me first preface this by telling you that Wednesday is senior day at Giant foods. "Why is this relevant?" you may ask? There are myriad reasons that I could give you but unless you've ever been food shopping with your over sixty five Nana you may have a hard time grasping exactly how fraught with danger this can be. Everyone of the surly old people comes in angry and ready for a fight. The prices are crazy, the manager is taking too long to respond to endless complaints, the cashiers give terrible customer service, the aisles are too skinny and the shelves too tall to reach. These are all valid issues and I do feel for these decrepit souls wandering around in vain trying to buy enough to last them until the next miserable trip to this Godforsaken place, however I was only there this Wednesday to get one item. Cheese. You see, my ten year old daughter loves Parmesan cheese on her pasta and won't eat a morsel without it. So now you understand why we dial it to def con 4 when there are only a few sprinkles left.
I unfairly used my youth (39 is the new 20) and agility to maneuver, shopping cart free, through the maze and used laser precision to zero in on my target. This is where I made my crucial error. I offhandedly cut in front of an elderly woman who initially appeared harmless and grabbed what looked like one of many bottles of sprinkle cheese. I now know that this was the last Parmesan. Only Romano remained. The old lady can't eat Romano, as a matter of fact she HATES it. First she shot me the same look that Chief Brody gave the mayor of Amity when he made the ill fated decision to open the beaches for the 4th of July holiday weekend with a man eating great white still on the prowl, then she started her shrill verbal assault. I backed away quickly and thought about running, but changed my mind. Old age is not a license to be an a**hole. Anarchy could rear it's ugly head if this type of behavior is left unchecked. So I used my junior psychoanalysts calm voice to shame her into silence. NO, I did not feel good about this later, buy my daughter ate her lunch for the rest of the week.