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I knew when I got shocked upon exiting the vehicle that I was in for a wild ride in the store. I don't know what is is about me, but sometimes I am just electric. As in - shocking. As in - set off sparks in random places.

I would think that a cool trait were it not for all the damned pain.

I just had a few items to get - quick in, quick out - that's it. Heavy cream. Eggs. Fontina. Kosher Salt. Pickles. Bananas. Apples.

The metal handle on the dairy cooler nearly dropped me. And I even did a pre-emptive tapping of the handle to see if I would get shocked or not. When nothing happened I made the mistake of getting cocky and did a full-on hand grab of the handle and ZAP! I got shocked. It took my breath away for a minute, and I did a quick check to make sure nothing was smoking on my body. (Any excuse to say I have a smokin' bod and actually have it be true... *sigh*)

Anyway.

The eggs were pretty painless - thank God - and the Fontina made it into my cart with little fanfare. But the pickles - the pickles nearly cost me 12 jars and a call for Clean Up on Aisle 10. I reached out and tapped the shelf and all seemed fine and, you know, I grew another level of Stupid on my way from the Dairy Case because I flat out grabbed a jar of pickles and the shock was so strong that my hand jerked and I knocked the row of jars so hard that they started to tumble. I let out a small squeal (or large scream, I dunno) and the nice Stock Boy came running and helped me save what could have been a Pickle-tastrophe. Crazy thing is - in handing me the jar I intended for myself - he got shocked. His eyes got all big and bulgy and I said, "I know, right?"

He said it had been happening a lot in the store - they think it's something to do with the flooring. And that he had gotten shocked over by the carrots.

"Oh so it's bad in produce?" I asked.

"Yeah - Produce Guy nearly did a Full Gaynor by the potatoes. Did you need something from over there?"

"Apples and bananas..." I said while biting my lip.

"Ok, wait here."

And off he went to get what I needed. He came back around the corner and stood there with a little hesitation in his stance.

"Just throw them in the cart - I don't care. Save yourself."

But he laid them gently in the cart and put his hands up while be backed away. And in his backing away he tapped the Chex Mix display at the end of the aisle and sent a few boxes tumbling.

I looked at him and shrugged. "Sorry. It's me. I would offer to pick them up but you and I both know that would just end badly."

He sighed and nodded his head in agreement.

He's helped me before. Lots. He was there when I kind of sort of ruined a pyramid of oranges. And by 'kind of sort of' I mean knocked the top level to the ground. He was also there when I pushed the milk too hard in the case and sent two cartons over the back and onto the floor in the cooler. We have a history, he and I. I wish I could say it was a relationship built on trust and honesty - true friendship.

But I have a gut feeling he's just not that good as the rest of the staff at Rock, Paper, Scissors.

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