The proud the few, but with exceptions
By BILL DUNCAN If there was ever a war between the sexes, I surrender. I know that is hard to believe coming from an old Marine who was trained never to retreat just to fall back for a better position. I know when I have met my match and discretion is the better part of valor. My wife fell and broke her right arm and that naturally limits her domestic chores. I don’t mind the cooking, not even putting up the Christmas decorations or other household chores like making up the bed. Except, cooking requires a constant restocking of the pantry, meaning one has to go grocery shopping. This is where the battle of the sexes puts the male species at a disadvantage. The male’s idea of shopping is to go to one store, pick up the item, pay for it and leave. Just the other day I noticed we were low on milk and announced I was going to the store to buy a gallon of milk. Simple, right? After my announcement, however, my wife said: “Wait there was a coupon for milk in Sunday’s newspaper.” “Sunday’s paper is ashes by now,” I said. “No, I saved it.” Sure enough she had tucked it away and instructed me to cut out the coupon. No sooner had I accomplished this chore than she handed me a list of other needed grocery items and a fistful of coupons. That wasn’t the problem. The coupons were not for the particular store that had the milk on sale, but in three different locations. She also handed me a stack of Christmas cards that needed to be mailed, instructing me that there was a U.S. Postal mailbox in front of one of the three stores. What she didn’t tell me was that the stores might be crowded because it was Saturday and that’s when most women do their grocery shopping. It was easy to discover this when I walked into the first store and felt like I was an alien. We certainly didn’t speak the same language. I filled my basket with the items on the list then made my way to the long line at the checkout stand. The lady ahead of me in line must have been buying groceries for a logging camp. Her basket was overflowing, but when it came time to pay up she discovered she didn’t have her purse and panicked. The buck stopped there while she frantically ran out of the store to check her car for the purse. Meanwhile the cashier had bagged her groceries, but couldn’t ring up my few items because the woman’s total was still in the register. The line behind me kept growing and since I was the male impeding their progress those angry women shoppers behind me obviously thought I was the hold up. I could hear mumbling behind me that was on the edge of a lynch mob. Finally the woman showed up, purse in hand, and bailed out her groceries. Fortunately for me there were no coupons at this location, so I moved on to the next supermarket where the coupon was valid for the milk. It was also the store with the mailbox out front. I mailed the handful of Christmas cards and not until I got into the store did I realize I had also mailed the handful of coupons, including the one for the milk. I asked a clerk just closing out for her break if she had a Sunday paper handy. “This is Saturday,” she growled. “I know,” I replied, “But there was a coupon in Sunday’s ad for milk. I need the coupon.” I got the oh, here’s-another-hopeless-male look and a sour “Sunday’s ad comes out tomorrow, you’ll have to wait.” But the sale is over today, I pleaded. She picked up her cash drawer and left without showing any sympathy. What would my wife do, I thought. She’d demand the price be honored because the sale was still on. I saw a male clerk and pleaded my case to him. He fully understood and got me a coupon from a cash drawer. I bought the milk and saved $l.72, but right then and there, I put up the white flag. The supermarket is a woman’s world and I have no place in it, but this old Marine still knows how to make up a bed so tight you can bounce a quarter on it and the pillows are always placed correctly with the sewn end outboard. (Bill Duncan can be reached by writing to P.O. Box 812, Roseburg, OR 97470)
The View From Here