Not in Kansas Anymore, or Germany

This Friday I'm flashing all the way back to this exact same time last year. We had just moved from HoTown to Brussels & were living in the exact same hotel-apartment we are now. It's like déjà vu all over again.

This time period was back before I started blogging. At the time I would just type up the equivalent of a blog publication and send it by email to some of my friends. I can't put my fingers on the exact email I sent because the laptop I was using then is now garbage. But I will try to recreate the frustration and insanity of my first Aldi shopping trip in Belgium.

Remember we had just moved from Germany where we had lived quite happily for over 5 years total. Although we were still in Europe and in a country bordering Germany, our first few days in Belgium were an adjustment (heck, this whole year has been an adjustment). We were now in a big city with major traffic after having spent 12 months in the middle of farmland. We all joked about a Bavarian Traffic Stau being 5 cars lined up behind tractor. A Brussels traffic jam means 1000's of cars and it might take 90 mintues to drive 10 miles.

I also remember having a few OMG Moments in the local stores where I was wide-eyed & gaped-mouth over the prices. $12 for a small container of icecream sticks out as a prime example of the incredible cost of living here. Because the only commissary in Belgium was an hour away, I was very happy to finally locate an Aldi - in the Flemish speaking side of town.

So, off to Aldi I go.

With my rather lengthy grocery list.

And, with my little sidekick, MiniMe.

I was ready not only with my list, but also with my shopping bags/baskets & cold hard Euro cash. I even had a one Euro coin to secure myself a shopping cart.

Like I said, I was ready. And, I thought I knew what I was doing.

MiniMe and I walked up and down every aisle buying stuff we knew we needed & local products that were just too cool to pass up - like individual crème brûlée desserts. The store was insanely busy and we were dodging the locals at every turn. I'm talking elbowing my way to the lunchmeat.

By the time the cart was filled up, I was beyond done shopping. I headed toward one of three lines & waited & waited & waited in an incredibly long line for our turn with the cashier.

Finally, I loaded all our stuff on the conveyor belt & I could see the end of this shopping trip in sight.

Hallelujah!

And, not a moment too soon because MiniMe had long been done with shopping & dodging the locals. We all know that "done with shopping" entailed a lot of whining & griping about wanting to go home immediately. Because I was distracted by the little darling, I didn't pay too much attention to the Cashier Dude and he ended up scanning 5 items of my stuff on the lady's ticket ahead of me.

Now, in the States, this would have been no problem. Cashier Dude could have just credited the lady in front of me & she would have been on her happy way.

But, not here. Cashiers here (at least at Aldi) can't do anything except scan items. Über-Important Midmanagement Lady with the register key had to be paged to fix this little SNAFU. She took for-freaking-ever to mosey up to the front & in the meantime, all those Belgians behind me were slightly irriated at having to wait longer for their turn. I'm sure the fact that I hail from the Good Ol' US of A didn't help my popularity either. To ice the cake, the lady ahead of me was peeved that I was slowing her down too.

Sorry, Folks, it wasn't actually me who got all scan happy with the barcode reader. Eventually, Important Key Lady fixed the problem & the lady in front of me was on her merry way.

Thankfully.

With SNAFU #1 behind us, Cashier Dude starting ringing up my groceries on my ticket. It was wonderful because I knew that we were just about ready to leave to store, get out of the public & go home for dinner.

Again . . . Hallelujah!

He rang and rang and rang up my items and presented me with a grand total. It was 50-something Euros, if memory serves me correctly. And, that's a lot of stuff for an Aldi shopping trip.

I quieted MiniMe's complaining long enough to grab cash out of my purse & presented it to Cashier Dude.

Viola!

He looks at me like I am a total idiot & proceeds to tell me something in French.

Uh . . . huh? English . . . ?

Oh, do I have a card, you ask?

I have a MasterCard. Will that work?

Non.

Oh, crap. I managed to get in the one line that takes only a special kind of bank card.

Which I did not have.

So Cashier Dude had to call Key Lady (who was still moving at turtle speed) back again & he had to UN-ring every freakin' thing one item at a time. At this point, the natives in line behind me were losing their charm, what little charm they possessed in the first place. They knew they were in the card only line and had their cards ready to rock-n-roll.

MiniMe's charm had long since faded and she was bordering on hissy fit.

Cashier Dude looked down his nose at me and pointed to the line that I needed to now wait in. The very, very long line that actually took cash.

I really, really wanted to just scream, throw a temper fit & leave the store. But that shopping trip had taken forever already & I didn't have any other plan for purchasing the badly needed groceries.

So, I attempted to silence MiniMe's loud protests that we already checked-out and I want to go home riiiighhhtttt noooooow!

Everyone in the store hated me for causing so many problems & I now hated all of them because they are very unsympathic about my not speaking French and/or reading Flemish. Make up your minds people. Pick a language and stick with it.

But I needed the groceries and was determined to get them one way or the other. So MiniMe and I waited in line - again. I flatout refused to make eye contact with anyone.

There. That would show them.

While standing there trying to figure out what went wrong, I noticed a sign that said Bank Card Enkel. There it was my friends, the first Flemish work I learned. Enkel means only. But who knew to look for a stupid sign anyway? Especially in the cluster-F that was the front of the store.

Then I started missing Germany because I know enough of that language not to end up in a card-only line.

Oh, wait! Germans don't do that. You can pay with cash in every freakin' line & that's what they actually prefer.

But, we aren't in Germany anymore and as far as I am concerned, not near enough to the border either.

Anyway, eventually, I successfully made it through the check-out line & back to the hotel. Knowing now why ex-pats with less chutzpah just want to climb back aboard an American Airlines flight headed for anywhere Stateside.

Because my family keeps eating dinner every night, several weeks later, I found myself shopping at Aldi again. This time, I two missions. 1) get in and get out as quickly as humanly possibly and 2) avoid Cashier Dude. I did manage to shop quickly, but that's as far as the HausFrau luck carried me. Cashier Dude was the only person working the only register that was open. I'm quite sure he remembered me & my fiasco of a shopping trip because he continue to look down at me with all the French-speaking snottiness he could muster.

Whatever!

Dude. You work at a low-end, el cheapo grocery store. And, you aren't even important enough to sport a key to the register that you operate. And, what's more. When the store is crazy-busy, Midmanagement puts you the card only register where you don't even have to handle cash under pressure.

It was at that moment I decided to take back my power & show a little HausFrau tude. I named the Dude Skippy (thanks, WonderWoman, for the idea) & vowed right then and there that any time he was working the cash line, I'd be in it.

Hey, Skippers. How's it going today? Long time, no see.

Hey, Skippity Do-Dah! I see you are on the Card Only line. Catch ya next time, 'kay?

Toodles, Skippy. Have a good weekend. (insert finger wave)

Hey, Skip. Do you have the key today? No? Well, better luck next time.

Bon jour, Skippy. I see they have you stocking tampons today. That bites.

Let me tell you folks, since I've decided to be the resident pain-in-the-butt at the Aldi, I've had a blast shopping. Now it's Skippy running from me & not the other way around.

I've also decided that Skippy should hook up with the stuck-up girls who work at the cosmetics counters. Hello?! You are selling make-up at a department store or worse . . . the PX. Since when is that job anywhere near the higher end of desirable jobs?

Puh-lease. Do you really think you are über-special with all that lipstick, zit cream & oodles of cover-up?

Probably.

Wow. I wish I could compete with you, LipstickChick, and your cashier buddy, Skippy.

I'm just not sure how my awesome personality, master's degree, amazing toilet scrubbing ability and HausFrau Blog would stack up against those high-fah-luting careers you've chosen.