First, try to say that without sounding incredibly Southern, and in a bad way.
T@ste of Teeter. It's impossible not to sound like a hick when you say that phrase.
Nonetheless, Dave and I received our hand addressed invitation last week to the upcoming T@ste of Teeter because we are one of the top 100 shoppers at our local H@rris Teeter.
Yeah. We are just that good.
Or maybe we just spent that much. Can I mention (again) that once three different employees of Trader Joe's told me I was their favorite customer!? (((((sigh)))))
We love our local H.T. and for reasons that actually *do* include an annoying chatty Cathy check out woman, a transvestite, and a bagger with a seeming physical disability who farely wrestles my shopping cart from my hands so he can load my groceries to the car. I honestly adore this man. I feel guilty letting him load my groceries, but every time he insists (and he DOES!), I adore him just that much more.
BTW, I say "seeming" because I've never seen this disability slow him down one bit. And I have to be honest that I feel very protective about him in writing this post. Oddly, I don't want him to know that I have noticed his disability. He always greets me with a big smile and a "Hello" when I go in. And then I try to scoot out past him when I leave so he can't insist on helping me. Only once in my life could I not load my groceries, and it was when Conor was an infant and I just couldn't figure out how it all worked to put the baby in the car and load the groceries and return the cart and do it all before he started crying. I just can't fathom anyone helping me load my groceries, much less someone with a disability. Yet, he insists on helping me. I feel guilty and honored at the same time. Thus, I scoot out the door.
And in another BTW, employees often smile and greet us at our local H.T. and this includes the "greeter" at the vegetable section ("Welcome to H@rris Teeter!") and the veggie manager who 1) once ran out of the store to congratulate me on being pg and 2) introduced me to the new veggie stocker one Sunday morning to help make her feel welcome. I'm So. Not. Kidding.
How on earth did we luck into a small town grocery in the middle of big grocery chain in a decent sized city?
Don't know. We'll see if we can find out any answers at the T@ste of Teeter.
BTW: I am going to delete this post by the end of the week because I never want my bagger to know I've talked about him online.