I’m not at all ashamed to admit I buy and read tabloids. I love them. They’re like candy, only calorie-free. And on this diet, I need something tasty. Juicy. Sweet. Catty.

So today I was at Publix and true to form, the bag lady, who was not a developmentally disabled employee, stopped bagging to read my tabloid. Groceries mounted up at the end of the conveyer belt.

It pissed me off.

So I tried a new approach.

I chose a bag and started bagging. “Hey, go ahead and read, I’ll bag,” I told the woman.

Didn’t faze her.

“Oh, I was just reading.” (yes, I see that, I think.)
She continued. “I wonder why they haven’t buried Michael Jackson’s body. Do you know?”
(what, do I look like a total expert on the autopsy or something?)

So I respond. “I don’t know, but hey, go ahead and read and I’ll bag.”

She started bagging, finally. But it didn’t bother her at all. No shame.

Clearly, reading customers’ magazines is in her job description.

Publix. Take heed. I’m gonna find a new store.