The Crazy Deli Lady

The other day I was at Bow Street Market in Freeport, which is basically my second home. It's a great little store, far superior to those giant supermarket chains with their fluorescent lighting and too much stuff. Bow Street sells fabulous farm-raised meats, fresh fish from local waters and veggies from the small farms dotting Maine's countryside. It simply can't be beat.

So I was shocked when I came face-to-face with one of their new employees who possibly is an escapee from some sort of institution. She had on a regulation hairnet and was working the deli counter, albeit with a somewhat crazed look in her eyes. Our exchange went like this:

Me:  "I'd like a medium-sized cole slaw, please." (Points to the desired item.)
Her: "We have regular cole slaw and blue cheese cole slaw. Which do you want?"
Me:  "I want the plain cole slaw." (Speaks louder and again points to the desired item, which was on a different shelf and not near the other one mentioned.)
Her: "Are you sure you don't want the blue cheese cole slaw?" (Spoken plaintively.)
Me: "Yes, I am very sure." (Getting annoyed.)
Her: "Do you want to try it?"
Me: "No, just give me the PLAIN cole slaw, thanks." (Full-blown angry, muttering things like if I wanted it I'd have asked for it, etc.)

I watched her bend down to the lower shelf and approach the pan of cole slaw, then turned away to get a few other items nearby while she finished packing up my order. Turning back and taking the container, which bore a label clearly marked COLE SLAW, not BLUE CHEESE COLE SLAW, I thanked her and walked away.

That night at dinner Mitch and I enjoyed a great piece of grilled swordfish. Along with it we had some mixed vegetables and a side of slaw. My husband ate some first and said, "Hmmmm, this is different. What is it?" I quickly took a taste and discovered, to my horror, veritable chunks of blue cheese in the cole slaw! WTF?

Explaining to Mitch what I had endured at the deli counter that afternoon, I said, "What if I were allergic to blue cheese? I could be dead by now!" I suggested he kill me on the spot, somehow making it look like an allergic reaction to blue cheese, then sue the market for millions and go out and get himself a new wife, a boat and a motorcycle, all things he fantasizes about. He pointed out that he would be in jail and thus not able to enjoy those things (except maybe a conjugal visit every so often), so instead I wrote this post and I'm sending it to the store manager. That deli lady must be stopped.