Big Y Bag Boy

Everytime I go grocery shopping at Big Y, I run into the same bagger checking me out ( not looking checking me out but ringing me up checking me out). He always has some way to make me feel like a fool. The first time I went in Oliver was screaming and screaming. He didn't want to be put in the carseat because he'd already spent 40 hours in that dang seat. So I hold him all around the store dragging the cart behind me and taking forever when this punk kid shows up and says. It must be really hard to have a colic baby and try to go shopping. I do not have a colic baby!! I have a baby that has spent a week straight in a carseat and thinks his parents have abondoned him. Like this kid even knows what colic is. I don't think I even really know what colic is. So I kindly tell him to get lost, I can do it on my own.
The next week he is checking me out when he says "So, how old are you?" I look him straight in the eye and I say "Why?" He tells me that him and his friends have a bet about how old I am. (Obviously I am not a very experienced Mother but this is ridiculous) I ask what they decide on and he tells me that most think I'm 15. 15? You can't even drive a car in this state at 15! Do I look 15? Post baby I definitely do not. I say I'm 21 and leave in a huff.
The next shopping trip I'm wearing my post baby pants. (Because I don't fit into my prebaby pants I had to buy some pants. I was trying to decide between 2 pairs. The pair that is a little too big or the pair that is a little too small. I figure since I'm losing weight I should probably go down. ) They are a little smug but okay, the only problem is the zipper. As I walk around it just works it's way open. All the time. I'm picking out cereal to eat in the morning when this kid (we'll call him Joe from now on) tells me that my fly is down. Again I leave slightly upset.
By today you'd think why is she still going to this grocery store. It has the best deals and is laid (layed?) out in an orderly manner where the pb isn't hanging out with the beer like the grocery store down the street. I'm checking out, holding my screaming child, pulling the cart behind me, with my zipper down and I look up to see Joe standing behind the counter with his fancy gelled hair and too tight girls pants. He rings me up tells me I saved $4. 32 then tells me "It must be hard to be a single mother. I'm lucky that my dad's always been around."
I'm seriously considering buying my pb next to the beer.