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Nothing gives me quite as severe East Coast/West Coast culture shock as how vigilantly I need to turn down plastic bags.
Not even the snow or ‘chew the air’ humidity or brick buildings.
Not even the snow or ‘chew the air’ humidity or brick buildings.
“Ah, I see you’re purchasing a single apple, have verbally requested no bags, & are holding an empty reusable bag. Clearly, I shall double-bag that fucker while you pay! You dare remove apple & Fitch bags?! RAAAAGE & pushy insistence that plastic bags are essential accessories.”
Actual verbatim conversation:
“No bags, please.”
“Are you sure? I’ll just bag it, it’s no problem.”
“No thank you, I don’t want a bag.”
“Nah, I’ll bag it just in case.”
“No, please.”
“Here you go! You’ll want the bag.”
*screams internally while unpacking bag*
“Just take the bag!”
“No bags, please.”
“Are you sure? I’ll just bag it, it’s no problem.”
“No thank you, I don’t want a bag.”
“Nah, I’ll bag it just in case.”
“No, please.”
“Here you go! You’ll want the bag.”
*screams internally while unpacking bag*
“Just take the bag!”
Instead of a 5¢ bag tax, are cashiers paid a commission for every bag they use? I honestly don’t understand.
I end up unpacking every fucking bag with the biggest “I’m smiling so I don’t bite” acerbic grin.
I end up unpacking every fucking bag with the biggest “I’m smiling so I don’t bite” acerbic grin.
(To be fair, the brick buildings do freak me out in a fundamental unease-in-my-soul. It doesn’t take living through many quakes to develop a deep distrust of brick, and I’m not shaking that disquiet.)
