The emptied her basket onto the conveyor belt. Shampoo. Conditioner. Qtips. Pregnancy Test. Tampons. Knowing that if all went well, she'd need the other. A magazine from the register's endcap - a new eyeshadow, a package of double stuf oreos, the family size bag of nacho cheesy tortilla chips. The items were scanned by the middle aged woman -- an ordinary cashier, but then as she scanned the pregancy test her eyes fixated on my naked ring finger.

No, I'm not married, I'm not engaged and I have the greatest fear in the world -- the fear of the mamahood. I'm utterly convinced that my period will not come unless I pee on the magical plastic wand. So this purchase of the pregnancy test has become a monthly ritual. I might have some sort of premenstrual disorder that requires that I know I am not with child in order to have a period. So every month -- I get my little pink box of pregnacy tests and usualy I remember to put a ring on my finger so I don't get the stares, this also has the side effect of being called ma'am when I'm handed my receipt to sign. I usually spare the teenage boy the embarssment -- of a) touching a tampon box and b) manhandling a pregnacy box -- so usually I end up going to either a middle age woman or a teenage girl.

The woman looked up and asked me point blank if I was married. I shook my head -- startled by her bravery. She continued, "If you are having a baby - it's soul will be scooped up by the devil the minute it is born" I reply, "Excuse me?" There is no excuse for those who do not follow the Lord's plan -- she continues ferverently. I interrupt, Joan is it -- staring at her plastic name tag -- adjacent to the button that says "I'm new to the team" Well Joan, this is Target, this is not a Church, Synnagoge or a Temple, this is not a magical soap box that you are standing on -- this is a cash register and frankly your brief sermon here is bound to be a violation of your employee handbook. I think, I'd like to speak to your manager. Joan - picks up her red handset and pages overhead for her manager.

Steve came over -- "What seems to be the problem Miss?" Well Steve, I've been a patron of this store for sometime now, and I came in here today to buy this 3 pack box of pregnancy tests - Steve looks at the floor, avoiding looking at the product I am now holding like a torch. But Joan, has decided that if I happen to be pregnant - that my unborn child would -- how did she put it, oh yes, His or her "soul would be scooped up by the devil the instant it is born." Now, I didn't come here for a theology lesson Steve, I just came to make a couple purchases and go home -- I didn't come here for judgement or a religious debate. Steve looks angry, not at me, but at Joan -- I'm just hoping that this problem will be rectified -- before Joan here, says the wrong thing to someone who happens to have a hobby of starting trivial lawsuits. Joan is now on the verge of tears.

Steve inquires on what would be a reasonable way to handle this incident. I step back. Shrug my shoulders, I don't know if there's anything you can do with Joan -- but this incident should not go unnoticed. Maybe, Joan should be required to stock the condoms/lube and pregnacy test aisle for a month -- or maybe she should show her teenage staff the proper way to use a condom while demonstrating over a banana. I really don't care what you do. Ok Miss, -- "Parsons" -- he continues "Miss Parsons, we will address the proper behavior with Joan -- is there anything we can do for your inconvience today?" I'd like it if my box of pregnancy tests were comped for my inconvience today. That will satisfy this matter. Steve instead activated a $20 gift card -- and present it to me, I paid my bill and left the store. Never to see the likes of Joan again.

After I arrived home -- I drank the jumbo gatorade I'd picked up and waited for it to kick in. Watching Jepordey, and Wheel of Fortune before the pressure in my bladder had sufficently built itself up. I unwrapped the celphane and ...