I’m standing in line with my loaf of French bread and bag of Normandy veggies to go with the sweet Italian sausage (they didn’t have Vienna bread, alright?) cooking in the crock pot with peppers, onions and tomatoes.

The unbelievable woman lady in front of me is with her total brat sweet young child. The store intercom blares and screeches. Another cashier rushes to shut it off. The woman says, “Yeah. She knows right where that intercom thing’s at. That’s why she doesn’t get to come.” And walks out with her groceries and her child.

Guess personal accountability and manners won’t be taught in that home, eh?