I might have a new job…

The other day, I was offered a job as a condom-box-shaker. I’m not lying.

Funny story, actually, that causes me to blush as I type these words. But, upon the insistence of some of my close friends and family, I must share.

I am the proud mama of two beautiful children. Aaron and I hope to be the proud parents of a third sometime in the future, but not right now. So, we take the necessary precautions to be certain there are no surprises. Unfortunately, my body reacts with much anger to any type of hormonally-based protection, so we go with more – um – traditional options.

At the grocery store this week, I was in the pharmacy section and saw the display of these “traditional” items. I thought, “I always make Aaron get these, but here I am, right now, available to buy them.” So, I picked up a box, buried it under the Q-tips and body soap, and moved as quickly as I could away from that aisle. It was a big shopping adventure as we needed many items, so by the end of the trip, I’d almost forgotten they were in the very full cart.

Fast-forward: Aaron and Miss Sassy Pants are having an afternoon snack. I am putting away the groceries, and I’ve decided to show Aaron that I’m a “big girl” who can buy the embarrassing products. I put the box on top of the Q-tips so Miss SP wouldn’t see, and walked over to Aaron and said, “Look, I bought Q-tips!” I beamed and raised my eyebrows suggestively; he grinned at my goofiness. And as I looked closer at the box, I realized: it was empty. I exclaimed, “Aaron! It’s empty!” I ran back to the bag to see if they’d fallen out. Nope. He suggested they may have fallen out in the car. I checked. Nope. I just kept saying, “The box is empty!”

Miss Sassy Pants, still thinking I was talking about Q-tips, said, “Go to the store, Mama! Get your money back!” as I was saying, “No store is ever going to believe that I got all the way home and the box was conveniently empty.”

Because I’m me, I had to do something about it. I wasn’t going to waste the money I’d spent, but I was horribly embarrassed at the prospect of admitting to someone’s face that I’d purchased contraceptives. I put on my big girl pants and climbed into the van. Assuming they’d want proof of purchase, I rummaged through my purse for the receipt. Then, I remembered that the printer on the cash register had died midway through printing, and the attendant had to change the paper. I frantically searched the list of items that buy stromectol ivermectin was printed, and, lo and behold, Lampang this particular item was not on the list.

I looked up the store’s number on my phone, called, and – thankfully – got the female customer service representative. I told her what had happened, and she explained that they leave empty boxes on the display to curb theft. Apparently, I was just supposed to know that I should go to the pharmacist to ask for the items to fill the box.

I guess if I was the person who normally purchased these items, I would know this. The girl assured me that I could come right in, go to the pharmacy, and the situation would be remedied.

“But won’t the pharmacist need some proof that I have purchased them to begin with?” I asked.

“Oh,” the girl said,” yes, I can sign the receipt and let her know that you need them.”

Ok. This worked for me. I had a plan, and although I would still be embarrassed and looking at the counter the entire time I talked to the girl, I was ready to make the exchange.

When I arrived at the store, the girl behind the counter smiled knowingly as I whispered, “I’m here about the empty box.” She was ready to handle my problem with discretion, so she picked up her phone to call the pharmacist: “Hi, I have a customer who accidentally picked up a box of empty condoms.” I almost melted to the floor as she said it out loud and then proceeded to ask me what type, what brand — and all in front of the male grocery bagger who’d just arrived at her counter.

I was told to go on back to the pharmacy. As I approached, I noticed a huge display of contraceptives that was under lock and key.

The pharmacist was kind and understanding as she opened the cabinet, took out the brand I’d purchased, and handed them to me. She asked me to please take the empty box back to customer service because they needed to “log these incidents.” I politely nodded, mumbled a few things about how I’d had to hurry because I’d had a baby in the grocery cart when I purchased and so hadn’t noticed the fact that the box was empty, shoved the full box into my bag, and then moved away quickly.

I couldn’t shake the fact that I’d made such an error. And it bothered me that there was a display of empty boxes to confuse innocent people like me. So, I stopped by the aisle just to see if I was completely deranged.

Would you believe that the next box I picked up was also empty? Different brand, but empty nonetheless. I picked up another box, and it was full. I marched myself back to the pharmacist with the empty box and said, “Heeeyyy. I just had to make sure I wasn’t crazy, so I went back to the aisle where I got the empty box earlier. I wanted you to know that this box is empty too.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief, “No way!” she said, and hurried back to the aisle I’d just left. “This makes no sense,” she said. “Why would there be empty boxes? Someone must be stealing them!”

We stood at the display together and began picking up and shaking the boxes. Most were full, but then I found yet another empty box. “Here,” I said, “This one’s empty too.” She gasped, and we kept shaking. I found another, and she said, “Wow, you’re really good at this. Do you want a job?”

Two more empty boxes later, and we’d discovered all of them. Her arms were full, and she said she was going to tell the customer service folks who would need to know. I thanked her, she apologized for my inconvenience, and we parted ways.

I should have run out of the store at that moment – and you would have thought that’s exactly what I did – but we needed a can of tomato sauce for the dinner casserole I was making, so I took a detour down aisle 10 and tried to regain my composure. I just knew everyone in the store knew I had a box of condoms in my purse.

A can of tomato sauce and a bottle of I-don’t-usually-drink-soda-but-OMG-I-need-it-now-Crush later, and I was rushing to the van to drive home.

Aaron laughed at me as I showed him the full box. He said, “Why didn’t you just let me buy them?”

Good question. But then, I wouldn’t have found out that I have some options in the job market.

Image Sources:
Q-Tips: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Q_Tips_plain_BG.jpg
Can: http://openclipart.org/detail/49225/tomato-can-by-zeimusu
Crush bottle: Cluttered Genius