Any way you slice it

I don't generally like to come on my blog and be all whiny-complainy but there's an exception to every rule.

It is after all a slice of life blog, and this is going to be about slices of pepperoni.

Because I'm not sure if you know this about me, but I'm a bona fide pepperoni fiend.

When we have pizza together? That's really all you need to know: Double Pepperoni.

But I do not restrict my consumption of pepperoni to when I enjoy pizza, which is actually very infrequently.

I snack on pepperoni all the time. You should try it. Zero carbs, just so you know.

Put a few paper towels on a small plate and line up a bunch of pepperoni discs -- be they large or small -- and microwave the little darlings for one minute.

They turn all chewy-crispy, depending on the thickness of the discs.

Delicious with eggs. Forget bacon.

Anyway I am particularly enamored of deli-style sandwich (some call it slicing) pepperoni, which is fresher than those little packages you get in the cold cut section.

Cheaper per pound too, depending on where you buy it.

Believe it or not my preferred place to buy sandwich pepperoni is the deli at Walmart.

And no, we don't have an EBT card loaded with mad stacks of imaginary cash. That's because we work.

We do not live off the government, although the government seems increasingly determined to suck the life out of us.

It's just that, I have not found this product sold any more cheaply than at Wally World. 

Six dollars a pound. I know, right? But it's worth it.

Most of the time however, we shop for groceries at Kroger. Kroger has a private brand of deli sandwich pepperoni that's very good but they're often out of it.

That leaves Boar's Head and BH, while incredibly delicious, is eight bucks a pound.

But since I'm addicted to pepperoni, I just go ahead and buy it if that's my only option.

Needs must.

Such was the case on a recent evening when TG and I had been on a day trip and we required a few supplies before going home.

So we went Krogering.

First stop: the deli, for some sandwich pepperoni.

Only, as I stood before the deli case gazing in at the fare, no fewer than five white-shower-capped "workers" stood in a gaggle not ten feet away.

Ignoring me.

Deep in conversation, they were. Five of them. All suited up like employees, but standing in the middle of the floor having some kind of a confab.

I was the only person waiting for service. I could have said something and I considered it, but I truly wondered how long they would make me wait.

It was several minutes. In due time the chatty clot broke up and a white female at least seventy years of age and wearing a mean expression wandered back behind the deli case.

She didn't look at me when she got to where I was, but she said something like:

"Just a minute."

Mmmmkay.

She went to the sink beside the meat slicers, where she began to painstakingly wash her hands. 

Still sudsed up, she walked over to where the deli boundary meets the bakery boundary, and chatted for a few moments with a white-shower-capped baker person.

I waited.

She returned to the sink, carefully rinsed her hands, dried them one digit at a time, and began to slowly and deliberately pull on a pair of latex gloves.

Fortunes were made and squandered. The national debt increased by fifty-eight billion dollars, most of that spent by EBT card holders.

I waited.

Eventually the elderly woman walked back over and stood, looking at me. 

She didn't say anything but her eyebrows were raised so I said:

"One pound of Boar's Head sandwich pepperoni, please."

She opened the case and began rummaging for said provender. She hauled it out and strolled over to a slicer.

She laboriously prepared to put the product up on the slicer and actually slice.

I grew much older but at long last she pushed the slicer handle. She turned and held up a piece of pepperoni, and again peered at me.

The slice was so thin, I could have read a faded love letter through it, were I so inclined.

"Thicker please," I said, thinking: Sometime this calendar year.

She didn't budge but said: "OK how much do you want?"

?????

I repeated, looking straight at her: "One pound."

She didn't budge but said: "I can't hear you back here."

?????

You may not know this about me but I am not a mumbler. Nor -- big surprise -- am I a shrinking violet.

And I do not shout in grocery stores (well, unless I find they're out of Diet Coke) but neither am I afraid to say right out loud exactly what I want.

I am neither inarticulate nor ambiguous. Ever. You can ask anybody.

So I guess I could have been all apologetic but that ship had sailed and this pirate was not aboard.

I leaned forward and looked the woman pointedly right between the eyes. I raised my voice.

"ONE. POUND." I said and I did not smile and this time I did not say please.

She turned back around and pushed the slicer a few times.

She turned around again, facing me. She did not speak but held up two slices of pepperoni, sideways so that I could judge their thickness.

The slices looked identical to me.

I said, and yes I was exasperated: "I can't tell the difference between them."

The fine example of a Kroger employee waggled one of the slices in my direction. "This one is thicker," she said.

Mmmmkay. What's behind door number three, I wondered.

But: "Tell you what," I said. Just give me a pound of those. Either one, both, it doesn't matter. I'd like to wrap this up sometime today."

I mean, I had been standing there for more than ten minutes. And still I was the only customer.

The elderly female turned back around and began slicing Boar's Head sandwich pepperoni in what, for her, passes as earnest.

When she had amassed a pile, she turned back toward the service counter and plopped the slices up onto the scale.

That's when I tuned in to the fact that she was muttering something. Within moments I realized she was in fact delivering a mini-diatribe for my benefit.

Because there was nobody else around.

And since I am not hearing challenged, she came through loud and clear.

It went something like this:

"I guess there are just some very unhappy people in this world. I'm glad I'm not a cranky person."

I ignored her but thought: No but I bet you ride a scraggly broom around town and ingest battery acid just for kicks.

Mutter mutter, slap some more pepperoni up onto the scale. Finally a grudging sloppy wrapping-up process, and eventually a few centuries later, a markedly desultory pushing of a plastic bag in my direction.

"Have a splendid evening," the elderly female deli employee instructed me.

?????

How can unhappy, cranky people even do that? I wondered. But I knew the answer: Just walk away from the deli counter at Kroger.

Bingo! Emotional ecstasy ensues.

In case you're wondering: YES. I tattled on her to the manager. I took the time.

It's how I roll.

I told him that when I am splashing out eight bucks a pound for sandwich pepperoni and I happen to be the only customer, you might ought to make it snappy.

Oh and all I need to hear is "Thank You, Ma'am. May I get you anything else?"

A deep curtsy may be in order too.

Or, hold the curtsy but I sure don't need a lecture on disposition by a crotchety old woman who clearly does not comprehend even the basics of doing her job.

But guess what homies? When I opened that package of pepperoni at home I realized said female hadn't even bothered to weigh out a whole pound.

I don't know if I got my pound of flesh either; the manager seemed distinctly bored with my Boar's Head tale.

But at least I tried.

Stand up for yourself when it's warranted, folks. If you don't, nobody else will.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Tuesday

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Comments

[Mari]

I have to tell you that I read this post out loud to Bob and Heather and we are all laughing our heads off! I can almost see the whole thing happening. Maybe that's because it could have happened in our local store, where they also sell Boars Head, the Deli and Bakery meet up and employees have been known to ignore me. I've also complained to the manager, but that's probably as far as it went. There is one difference though - I would never buy pepperoni at the deli. I really, really dislike it and pull it off any pizza I may be trying to eat that has it on. (I hope we can still be friends in spite of this!)

[Sue the Hobbit]

I was horrified the first time i saw one of my granddaughters eating plain pepperoni. Apparently, it's a common addiction! I am not fond of it, myself. I think you should give up Walmart, really I do.They are obviously oblivious to the honour you bestow upon them by shopping there.

[irene]

Oh good for you, not sure it will do anything but, we must try. I have a friend who has a little paper/scapbooking store, and since I often go in and stock up, I was doing so one day, and I couldn't reach one of the pots of gold leaf I like to use, the one and only employee (it's a small shop) was on the phone, talking, I could have been covered in $20 bills, and couldn't get served, I stood for more than 1/2 hr. waiting, not wanting to eavesdrop on her conversation, but enough was enough. I finally left the whole pile of goods I had amassed at the check out counter and left. The next time I was in, my friend was there and I did tell her. It's important to have customer service in a small business and large business. My friend wanted to give me a discount on my next purchase, and I just said no thanks, and haven't been back. Now if that happened with 10 customers that day? how does a business stay in business? So what happened to "the customer is always right"?

[Jennifer]

@Mari ... well I already accepted that you don't drink coffee so I guess I can forgive that you're a pepperoni-puller-offer. You like Johnny Depp; right?

@Hobbit ... this happened at Kroger! Keep up, girl! The deli ladies at Walmart are really nice.

@Irene ... you ask some burning questions. I think people have been asking them for centuries! I wish I had some answers.

[Sue the Hobbit]

Oops. I don't drink coffee either. Triple jeopardy.

[Skunkfeathers]

I'm pretty easy going and laid back, so I'm pretty careful to pick my battles, but once I engage I am alternatingly patient, tenacious, and have a "making an unmistakable point" voice and glare I use when I'm pushed. Doesn't hurt to be my size, either, when employing the latter.

I've never 'gone to war' over pepperoni, but I can guarantee you that I'll never do so against your piratically formidable self ;-)