I had another run in with the broom guy at Fry’s today.
Normally I don’t post on the weekends but I couldn’t not fill you in on the latest encounter with my grocery store groupie.
So there I was, picking up the limes I forgot to buy yesterday so that my resident bartender could whip me up his house specialty: azul margaritas with grilled tequila lime chicken. It’s a delicious concoction, and not just because it features a double dose of Cuervo.
Back to the broom guy though.
So there I was, all alone at the grocery store, having just come from a hair appointment. I was already walking a touch taller with that just-left-the-salon groove going on. You get that too right? That whole celebrity’ish feeling that washes over you as soon as you step foot out of the salon. It comes hand in hand with a few extra tosses of the hair, a bit more of a sway in the hip department.
Yeah, that feeling.
I’ve already grabbed my limes and I’m headed to pick up a canister of oatmeal because I used the last of it this morning and that’s when I see him. I haven’t seen him since the last awkward run-in so when I do I sort of avert my eyes. I’d really rather not make eye contact with him just because it’s a tad uncomfortable seeing as how the last time I saw him he congratulated my husband for his matrimonial conquest.
My attempts at nonchalance proved futile though. This is how it went down:
Are you finding everything alright ma’am? (Apparently that’s his go-to pick-up line)
Yeah. Great. Thanks.
Okay. Well…welcome back.
Uh, yeah. Oh, okay. Thanks.
Seriously? Welcome back? Welcome back to the grocery store in which I can easily be found four times a week picking up bananas and toilet paper? Welcome back?
They’re building a new grocery store closer to where I live. After this second run-in I don’t think I’m going to be able to switch grocers. I wouldn’t want to give up my ace in the ego boost hole.


