When I wrote the title for this, it hit me that it could be read two ways:  Jewel Rules, as in here are some guidelines; or Jewel Rules, as in JEWEL ROCKS!!!! It should definitely be taken as the former.

Now, I realize that there are lots of options when it comes to grocery shopping.  Most people I know prefer Trader Joe’s or Mariano’s to Jewel.  But let’s face it; when you need a last-minute item in the middle of making dinner, or want to make a quick stop on your way home, there is nothing more convenient than the Jewel on the corner.  However, if you are going to brave the check-out aisles of this local gem, you need to be prepared by following some general rules.

Rule #1:  Go in with a positive attitude and loads of self-confidence. 

I have found that the cashiers are disarmingly upfront and honest.  One day I went to my local Jewel and got in “Linda’s” line.  (Name has been changed to protect ME.  I’m scared of her).  Linda often waits on me. Although she is speedy, she is Not Happy.   She seems annoyed all the time at every moment with everybody who works there. Linda rolls her eyes and has a permanent grimace. She has no ability to keep her emotions in check; they are written all over her face.  If there were a thought bubble above her head I think it would say  “I hate working at the Jewel and all these co-workers are so annoying and I should get better pay and hours and this Monopoly game is DUMB and a waste of time and it’s only for people who like to sort and organize and never win anything and also when I get home I have to make dinner and even though I work at a grocery store thinking of what to make for dinner is the worst part of my day and I can’t believe my husband still doesn’t know how to load the dishwasher correctly after 20 years of marriage.”  Just a guess.

I’m not REALLY complaining, even though it seems if you are in customer service you should at least pretend to be in a good mood.  I know better than to ask “how’s it going” to her because she is going to tell me the truth.  I feel like maybe she should work in the stock room so she doesn’t have to come into contact with that many customers.  Or get her anger out by frosting cakes in the bakery.  When a customer asks her to write “Happy Birthday Julie” in purple, she can write “Happy Birthday Julie In Purple” on the cake and go home and rub her hands in an evil manner and cackle to herself that her passive aggressive trick has worked.  But then she will remember she still has to think about dinner and re-load the dishwasher.

Back to my story.  Recently I got in her line.  I had just come from lunch with a friend. Now I did not realize that as much as we recognize the checkers and baggers, they also recognize us the customers.  So while Linda is ringing up my items she is looking down at the scanner.  She has not yet noticed me.  When she gets to the end, she finally looks up and makes eye contact with me.  And then she does a double take.  Like one of those double takes where if she were a cartoon character it would have come with Hanna-Barbera sound effects.

And then she says to me:   “WOW. You look pretty today.”

Let me stress to you this was not a compliment. This was an “I am in complete shock because usually when you come here you look like crap and who knew with a little makeup on and your hair not in a pony you would look so completely different” comment.   And like all self-deprecating women, I start to explain away WHY I looked so nice that day.  “Oh, haha, yes, I have makeup on.  I look different.  Blah Blah I did my hair blah blah I had lunch with a friend hee hee blah blah blah blah.”

What I should have said was “Why so surprised, Linda?  Don’t I USUALLY look good?”  But I would never say that because Linda would probably answer me truthfully again and I would feel bad, so basically I just laughed a fake laugh and decided that now even the grocery store is off-limits for my usual uniform of no makeup and yoga clothes.  OR..if I was a self-empowerment blogger I would say that my REAL AUTHENTIC self is good enough for Jewel and Linda and maybe I will just commit to looking like “myself” at all times and WHO CARES.  But thank God I am not a life-coach-destiny-finder-blogger because that would be boring and not funny and certainly not MY TRUTH.  Haha. See what I did there?

Rule #2: No, really, have loads of self-confidence.   

Occasionally I will purchase alcohol and occasionally I will get carded.  Okay.  Not really. But, this did actually happen to me in the somewhat recent past.  We have all been there.  Super excited when some naive checker sees your bottle of wine and asks to see your ID.  You are thinking you are all cool that someone thinks you are under 21, but guess what?  They have to card everyone who looks under 35 so sorry they don’t think you are still in college.  But at my age, thinking I may be under 35 is still pretty awesome.

So one day I get in line and start loading items on to the conveyor belt.  My back is to the checker as I am facing the cart and unloading. As I place the alcohol on the belt I hear the  woman (NOT LINDA) say “ID please.”  I continue to unload (very smugly I might add) and when I am finished I reach for my purse to grab my ID.  As I turn, the cashier gets one look at my face and says, “OH. NEVER MIND.”

THIS ACTUALLY HAPPENED. SOMEONE THOUGHT I WAS UNDER 21 (OR 35) FROM THE BACK BUT CLEARLY REALIZED HER ERROR WHEN SHE SAW MY FACE.

As in, oh now that I saw your face clearly you don’t need to show me your birthdate because, boy, you are definitely old enough to drink wine and hey maybe you would like me to go get you some more so you can drown your sorrows away you old crypt-keeper mom.

I realize this could be a positive.  Maybe my backside looks young.  Wink wink.  I mean, I could get on board with that.  Although that still means from the front not so much.  Could it be I have an under 21 or 35 butt? This is a longshot.  And no, I will NOT be posting a picture of me from behind to get everyone’s opinions.  Although that would be hilarious and possibly something I might do just to be funny.  How would that work?  “Hey, Franny, come take a pic of my bum for the internet.”  That does NOT sound like a conversation I want to have with her and I sure don’t want to see the results of that poll.

Rule #3: Self-confidence will sometimes backfire.

This past winter I was in line once again when the man behind me started chatting with me.  If you know me, then you know this is not unusual.  I am outgoing and talkative and can make conversation with anyone and often do so.  He was probably in his late 50’s to early 60’s.  Why do I mention this?  You know exactly why.  And yes, I realize that this age group is only one generation or so above me, but still.  In my head I am not Almost 50.  In my head when I was hanging out with my 23-year-old adorable nephew last week I was saying “I wonder if everyone thinks he is my boyfriend” until he said out loud, “I wonder if people think you are my mom” and there was nothing much to say after that.

Anyway, this gentleman and I were talking about the weather or some other totally boring topic.  I am sure he thought I was flirting since men seem to think Talking=Flirting and for some reason have been wrongfully blessed with an extra share of unwarranted self-confidence.  But I didn’t really care as I was just being myself and friendly.  So I finished paying and went out to my car. As I was pulling away, there he was crossing right in front of me to get to his car.  I waited for him to cross so as not to hit him.  Apparently, not hitting someone with your car is comparable to “Hey big boy, I think you are hot so come and talk to me at my window.”  Which is what he did.  He flagged me down and God knows what I was thinking as I rolled down my window and watched him walk over to me and say……..”Hey, I just wanted to tell you that you’re a hot mom.”

Let me tell you, I am having trouble even writing this I am so embarrassed and uncomfortable. Being complimented is nice.  I suppose I should be grateful that anyone thinks I’m a “hot mom.” But let’s just really dissect this can we?

1) An old man thought I was in his league.  That’s the horrible un-politically correct truth.

2) He didn’t question I was a mom.  I obviously fit the stereotype of a mom.  Was it the go-gurt I had in the cart?  The Star Wars Band-Aids?  Nope. Let’s face it.  It was me.  To put it bluntly, it was a day where Linda would have recognized me right away.

3) I looked terrible.  When you look bad and someone compliments you it’s like a math equation that equals zero.  I look terrible + you think I look good = you have terrible taste and judgement /someone with terrible taste and judgement thinks I’m hot = I must be gross = I am a troll that should go live under a bridge.

If you don’t believe, me here I am right after a got home. (And, yes, I did make Franny take this picture).