![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
laleia... or "How Schnucks came this close to ruining my French project."
So, I had been casually strolling down the aisles of Schnucks, hunting up cheaper bottles of vanilla bean or vanilla extract. A Schnucks employee walks up to me.
"Excuse me, miss, do you need any help?" At my blink, he continues. "I saw you taking pictures earlier-"
Say no more. Let me explain. I have due after winter break a French cuisine project in which I was to cook a French meal for my entire family (I had chosen all 11 of them), and I had decided to cook it this Friday, because this Thanksgiving weekend would be the longest break in a while.
Earlier, before I had arrived at Schnucks, I had a discussion with my parents as I attempted to decide which main course, appetizer, and dessert I would choose to cook. My mom had somehow managed, in that short perhaps five minutes, to make me completely insecure about my ability to cook any meal, much less a French meal, for anyone, much less a total off 11 people, in such a matter than that more than half of it did not end up in the trash.
All that car ride, I was imagining various ways Schnucks employees could become mere obstacles in my path, and the various ways I would scream, yell, and rant at them until they backed away, defeated. I wanted to crush someone.
Five pounds of meat, several pears, and two pictures later (I was required to take several pictures throughout the course of shopping, cooking, serving, and cleaning up as part of this project), this Schnucks employee got in my way.
"I'm doing a French project for school; do you know where the vanilla beans are?" I asked smoothly.
He blinked. "Well, you have to ask permission before you take pictures," he answered. Now, I don't know whether it was because I had finally convinced him that I had no ill intentions or whether my turning of the tables on him by asking him a question (I would like to think it was the latter, but somehow I doubt it) turned him away, but he only asked once more, "A school project, right?" before showing me the vanilla beans.
But I am MAD!!! My mom says I shouldn't care because it's America and this is what America is all about, but by God I should be allowed to do a school project without being questioned by some stupid Schnucks employee. They are all deux-cent-cinquantes. Deux-cent-cinquantes, I tell you!
laleia
P.S. Je n'aime pas Schnucks.
So, I had been casually strolling down the aisles of Schnucks, hunting up cheaper bottles of vanilla bean or vanilla extract. A Schnucks employee walks up to me.
"Excuse me, miss, do you need any help?" At my blink, he continues. "I saw you taking pictures earlier-"
Say no more. Let me explain. I have due after winter break a French cuisine project in which I was to cook a French meal for my entire family (I had chosen all 11 of them), and I had decided to cook it this Friday, because this Thanksgiving weekend would be the longest break in a while.
Earlier, before I had arrived at Schnucks, I had a discussion with my parents as I attempted to decide which main course, appetizer, and dessert I would choose to cook. My mom had somehow managed, in that short perhaps five minutes, to make me completely insecure about my ability to cook any meal, much less a French meal, for anyone, much less a total off 11 people, in such a matter than that more than half of it did not end up in the trash.
All that car ride, I was imagining various ways Schnucks employees could become mere obstacles in my path, and the various ways I would scream, yell, and rant at them until they backed away, defeated. I wanted to crush someone.
Five pounds of meat, several pears, and two pictures later (I was required to take several pictures throughout the course of shopping, cooking, serving, and cleaning up as part of this project), this Schnucks employee got in my way.
"I'm doing a French project for school; do you know where the vanilla beans are?" I asked smoothly.
He blinked. "Well, you have to ask permission before you take pictures," he answered. Now, I don't know whether it was because I had finally convinced him that I had no ill intentions or whether my turning of the tables on him by asking him a question (I would like to think it was the latter, but somehow I doubt it) turned him away, but he only asked once more, "A school project, right?" before showing me the vanilla beans.
But I am MAD!!! My mom says I shouldn't care because it's America and this is what America is all about, but by God I should be allowed to do a school project without being questioned by some stupid Schnucks employee. They are all deux-cent-cinquantes. Deux-cent-cinquantes, I tell you!
laleia
P.S. Je n'aime pas Schnucks.
