So I am at Walmart scanning and bagging my almost $300 worth of groceries while the employee that wants $15 an hour “monitors” and then this happened.
Her – why are you double bagging all of your groceries?
Me – excuse me?
Her – you are wasting our bags!
Me – if you don’t likе the way I’m bagging the groceries, feel free to come on over here and bag them yourself.
Her – that’s not my job!
Me – okay, then I will bag my groceries how I please if that’s all right with you.
Her – why are you using two bags?!
Me – because the bags are weak and I don’t want the handles to break or the bottoms to rip out.
Her – well that’s because you are putting too much stuff in the bag. If you took half of that stuff out and put it in a different bag then you wouldn’t need to double bag.
*10 seconds of me just staring at her.
Me – so you want me to split these items in half and put half of them in a different bag so that I don’t have to double bag.
Her – exactly.
Me – so I would still be using two bags to hold the same number of items.
Her – no because you wouldn’t be double bagging.
*me pressing two fingers to my left eye in an attempt to make it stop twitching.
Me – okay so here I have a jug of milk and a bottle of juice double bagged. If I take the milk out and remove the double bagging and just put the milk in the single bag and the juice in that single bag I’m still using two bags for these two items.
Her- no because you are not double bagging them so it’s not the same number of bags.
*me looking around at about 10 other customers who at this point are enjoying the show.
Me- is this likе that Common Core math stuff I keep hearing about?
Her- never mind you just don’t get it.
And with that, she went back to her little Podium so she could continue texting or playing games on her phone or whatever it was she was doing before she decided to come over and critique my bagging skiIIs.
I Wanted to Teach My Husband a Lesson for Cheating on Me, but Life Punished Me Instead
Bethany’s perfect life shatters when she discovers a love note hidden in her husband’s jacket, hinting at his infidelity. Devastated and consumed by betrayal, she spirals into a quest for revenge that may destroy the very family she cherishes.
My name is Bethany, and I had everything a woman could ask for: a devoted husband, Noah, and two wonderful kids, Darcy and Jake. Every morning, I’d wake up feeling blessed, thinking, “This is it. I’ve made it.”
Until one mistake destroyed everything.
It was a Friday afternoon, and I was doing one of those deep cleans where you end up finding all sorts of forgotten treasures and junk. I was sorting through Noah’s jackets, wondering how one man could need so many, when I felt something crinkle in the pocket.
Curious, I pulled out a folded piece of paper, thinking it was an old receipt or a shopping list.
I unfolded the note, and my heart stopped. The words blurred as my mind tried to make sense of them.
“I will never forget Friday night. You were the best! I love you! I hope you will still divorce her and we will have the children we dream of!”
My hands shook. My first thought was denial. No, this couldn’t be true. Noah had said he was working late that Friday. He even brought home a project he was supposedly working on.
I felt a wave of nausea wash over me. I sat down, clutching the note, my mind racing.
For days, I was a mess. My perfect life began to crumble. I couldn’t look at Noah without seeing those words, imagining him with someone else. The betrayal cut deeper than I ever thought possible.
I became distant, preoccupied. Noah noticed, of course, but every time he asked if something was wrong, I brushed him off with a weak smile and a “just tired, that’s all.”
Darcy and Jake sensed the tension too.
Darcy would ask, “Mommy, are you okay?” And I’d plaster on a smile, trying to reassure her. But the cracks were showing, and everyone around me started to notice.
Friends invited me out, sensing I needed a break, but I couldn’t bring myself to go. I was drowning in a sea of confusion and hurt.
So, I did something I’d never done before. I went to a bar alone. The dim lights and low hum of conversation felt like a cocoon where I could hide from my reality. I ordered a drink. Then another. And another.
“Is this seat taken?” a smooth voice interrupted my thoughts.
I looked up to see a charming stranger with a warm smile. His name was Mark, and he had this easy confidence about him.
“I can’t,” he said, his voice breaking. “I don’t know how it got there! Is this why you’ve been so distant lately? Why didn’t you talk to me?”
“Because you would’ve denied it, just like you’re doing now!” I shot back.
Noah flinched. He looked at me, his eyes filled with so much pain, but then his expression hardened.
“So, this is your solution?” he gestured to Mark. “Instead of talking to me, you go out and hook up with the first Casanova you find?”
In the silence of our empty home, I reflected on everything that had happened. Trust and communication, I realized, were the foundations of any relationship. Without them, everything crumbles.
I sat down and wrote a letter to Noah, pouring my heart out. I apologized, begged for forgiveness, and promised to do better. I told him I loved him and that I understood if he needed time. But I hoped, someday, he could forgive me.
In seeking revenge, I had only punished myself the most. It was time to start making things right.
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