Sunday, November 29, 2009

Don't Cry Over Spilled Milk.

Yesterday I went to the Farmers' Market. I wanted to get some pea shoots and milk. When I walked in, the people selling milk were right inside the door, and I felt funny walking up to them in that way, so I went and looked for pea shoots. It seems they were only available for a limited time. I went back to the dairy stand and exchanged them my empty glass bottle and $3.25 for a filled glass half-gallon of their whole milk- creamy stuff. I started walking towards another stand to double check about the pea shoots and as I walked, I went to drop the bottle of milk in my bag.

Only it didn't quite make it there.

It dropped on my toe. It dropped on the tiled floor. It smashed into a million pieces.

Milk everywhere. All the milk. Spilled. I wanted to cry, but you aren't supposed to cry in this situation.

When you're in grade school and someone drops a tray, the whole cafeteria always breaks out into an accusatory "OOoooooooo!"

When you're in the farmers' market and you break a milk bottle, the whole place breaks out into a sympathetic: "Oooohhh!"

I start walking towards CVS in a daze, thinking that maybe they'll have a mop. Before I get there I find myself explaining this to someone who informs me that a janitor has been called. An older gentleman suggests that we try picking up the large pieces of glass. After we get all the big chunks, I'm scraping milky tile with my hand to get the smaller chards. I know this is a stupid idea but I don't know what else to do with myself.

The man whose stand I spilled milk near has a large push broom and is standing and keeping the milk puddle away from his sacks of potatoes. After a while he tells me that a janitor is coming and that I can go. I've been standing next to him apologizing to people since I finished picking up the glass pieces.

I thought about running out of the place, but now my toe started to feel numb and running was no longer an option. I decided that I did need milk, and I was going to have to pay another $2 bottle deposit somewhere, so I might as well just go pay $5.25 for a new bottle. As I walked up to the milk stand, the girl walks out to me with a new half gallon of whole milk. I open my wallet to give her the $5.25 and she says "Just two, just the bottle deposit, that's fine....I feel your pain."

I thank her profusely and share that the pain is indeed in my pride but also in my foot.

Good business practices are good for your business.

Patronize Gumaer Farms. Their milk is delicious.

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