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Crystal Geyser Spring Water is the purest, freshest, cleanest, sweetest water ever. At least that’s what the newspaper article said that the salesman handed me years and years ago to persuade me to take home delivery, which I did, for the years my nieces and nephew lived with me; once they left, I had no need for so much water. But I have been buying Crystal Geyser ever since then, only in smaller quantities, at the store. I buy the 24-packs of bottled water for my family to drink, and I buy the big gallon jugs to use for food preparation. I keep a pitcher of Kool-Aid in the fridge during the hot weather, sometimes grape, sometimes black cherry, sometimes limeade, which needs about half a gallon of water to make, so I keep plenty of the jugs on hand. It happens that they carry Crystal Geyser at the 99 Cent Store, so along with my other purchases, I grab a few jugs of water when I’m there.
There were not many goodies at the 99 yesterday, and everything was kind of picked over, so I only got a few things.
Crystal Geyser, gallon jug, 99 cents
Ben & Jerry’s Flipped Out, two pack, 99 cents
Toblerone almond and honey nougat bar, 99 cents
Progresso brand pozole, that’s something new, 99 cents
Betty Crocker sugar cookie mix, 99 cents
Nestle Toll House chocolate chip cookie dough, big batch tube, 99 cents
Red Baron mini cheese pizzas, 99 cents
El Monterey burritos, two pack, 99 cents
Senor Rico rice pudding, 99 cents
I had noticed on previous trips that the store sells little flags, both American and Mexican flags, maybe 8 x 10, on a thin wooden dowel, something like you would see being waved at a political rally, only the ones given out at rallies are sturdier. The flags at the 99 are the thinnest of cotton, cheaply screen-printed, the edges are simply cut and not hemmed, and the material is barely fastened to the wood. Even for 99 cents, these are not worth buying, yet they must sell since I see them in stock all year round. Right now, leading up to the Fourth, there is a plethora of American flags in the picnic aisle, along with a bunch of other red, white and blue items. I couldn’t figure out why there were so many Mexican flags in another aisle at first, until I realized that it probably had to do with the World Cup.
As I rolled my cart into the checkout line, I noticed a woman and her two teen daughters in the next line. When I had passed the lines earlier, I noticed a little girl in a cart with one of the small Mexican flags in her hand. Now there was a flag sticking up out of the end rack by the next line where the woman and her daughters were; I guessed that the girl’s family had changed their mind about buying it and left it there. I was thinking about what to make for lunch when I got home, looking over the stuff in my cart, looking at the stuff on the end racks, waiting for the line to move forward.
“What’s that Mexican flag doing there? They shouldn’t be selling Mexican flags here. This is America, that shouldn’t be here.” It was the woman in the next aisle, the one with the two daughters. The woman was laughing. She was wearing a loose dark shift, hips and stomach like potatoes in a sack, arms heavy as hams with a tattoo on the back of her shoulder, thin greasy hair pulled into a ponytail. She saw me looking at her and looked away, laughing. “I don’t care,” she said. Both of the girls looked over at me with open-mouth grins on their faces; they had dirty dark blonde hair, badly cut and uncombed, and darkish white skin, with light blue eyes, and they were dressed in cheap clothing. “Leave that alone,” she said to her daughters, referring to the flag. “Who cares if it falls to the ground? I hope it does. That’s where it belongs.”
I turned away. The woman kept going on, but with no audience except her daughters, she sounded pathetic and shrill, like someone giving a speech in a room where everyone had stood up and left. I heard one of the daughters say to her mother, “Why do we always be hating on everybody?” The intercom overhead called for the manager, so I couldn’t hear the mother’s reply.
I bought my things and finished before the mother and her daughters in the next line. As I was putting the bags in my cart, I heard the woman say, “Food,” and I knew immediately what that meant. At a forum last month on Public Health and Social Services, I had learned that the state of California now issues cards to the people that qualify for benefits, instead of checks or food stamps. The cards are like debit cards, and are automatically loaded up once a month with cash and food stamp benefits, and when you swipe the card, the question is asked whether you want to pay with your cash benefits or your food stamps benefits. I glanced over and sure enough, the mother was swiping a California benefits card. By what she said, it was clear that she was collecting both welfare and food stamps.
I smiled to myself and left the store. Poor white folks, God bless them.
Crystal Geyser Spring Water is the purest, freshest, cleanest, sweetest water ever. At least that’s what the newspaper article said that the salesman handed me years and years ago to persuade me to take home delivery, which I did, for the years my nieces and nephew lived with me; once they left, I had no need for so much water. But I have been buying Crystal Geyser ever since then, only in smaller quantities, at the store. I buy the 24-packs of bottled water for my family to drink, and I buy the big gallon jugs to use for food preparation. I keep a pitcher of Kool-Aid in the fridge during the hot weather, sometimes grape, sometimes black cherry, sometimes limeade, which needs about half a gallon of water to make, so I keep plenty of the jugs on hand. It happens that they carry Crystal Geyser at the 99 Cent Store, so along with my other purchases, I grab a few jugs of water when I’m there.
There were not many goodies at the 99 yesterday, and everything was kind of picked over, so I only got a few things.
Crystal Geyser, gallon jug, 99 cents
Ben & Jerry’s Flipped Out, two pack, 99 cents
Toblerone almond and honey nougat bar, 99 cents
Progresso brand pozole, that’s something new, 99 cents
Betty Crocker sugar cookie mix, 99 cents
Nestle Toll House chocolate chip cookie dough, big batch tube, 99 cents
Red Baron mini cheese pizzas, 99 cents
El Monterey burritos, two pack, 99 cents
Senor Rico rice pudding, 99 cents
I had noticed on previous trips that the store sells little flags, both American and Mexican flags, maybe 8 x 10, on a thin wooden dowel, something like you would see being waved at a political rally, only the ones given out at rallies are sturdier. The flags at the 99 are the thinnest of cotton, cheaply screen-printed, the edges are simply cut and not hemmed, and the material is barely fastened to the wood. Even for 99 cents, these are not worth buying, yet they must sell since I see them in stock all year round. Right now, leading up to the Fourth, there is a plethora of American flags in the picnic aisle, along with a bunch of other red, white and blue items. I couldn’t figure out why there were so many Mexican flags in another aisle at first, until I realized that it probably had to do with the World Cup.
As I rolled my cart into the checkout line, I noticed a woman and her two teen daughters in the next line. When I had passed the lines earlier, I noticed a little girl in a cart with one of the small Mexican flags in her hand. Now there was a flag sticking up out of the end rack by the next line where the woman and her daughters were; I guessed that the girl’s family had changed their mind about buying it and left it there. I was thinking about what to make for lunch when I got home, looking over the stuff in my cart, looking at the stuff on the end racks, waiting for the line to move forward.
“What’s that Mexican flag doing there? They shouldn’t be selling Mexican flags here. This is America, that shouldn’t be here.” It was the woman in the next aisle, the one with the two daughters. The woman was laughing. She was wearing a loose dark shift, hips and stomach like potatoes in a sack, arms heavy as hams with a tattoo on the back of her shoulder, thin greasy hair pulled into a ponytail. She saw me looking at her and looked away, laughing. “I don’t care,” she said. Both of the girls looked over at me with open-mouth grins on their faces; they had dirty dark blonde hair, badly cut and uncombed, and darkish white skin, with light blue eyes, and they were dressed in cheap clothing. “Leave that alone,” she said to her daughters, referring to the flag. “Who cares if it falls to the ground? I hope it does. That’s where it belongs.”
I turned away. The woman kept going on, but with no audience except her daughters, she sounded pathetic and shrill, like someone giving a speech in a room where everyone had stood up and left. I heard one of the daughters say to her mother, “Why do we always be hating on everybody?” The intercom overhead called for the manager, so I couldn’t hear the mother’s reply.
I bought my things and finished before the mother and her daughters in the next line. As I was putting the bags in my cart, I heard the woman say, “Food,” and I knew immediately what that meant. At a forum last month on Public Health and Social Services, I had learned that the state of California now issues cards to the people that qualify for benefits, instead of checks or food stamps. The cards are like debit cards, and are automatically loaded up once a month with cash and food stamp benefits, and when you swipe the card, the question is asked whether you want to pay with your cash benefits or your food stamps benefits. I glanced over and sure enough, the mother was swiping a California benefits card. By what she said, it was clear that she was collecting both welfare and food stamps.
I smiled to myself and left the store. Poor white folks, God bless them.