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Murphy's Law: "If anything can go wrong, it will."

In need of several food items I made a quick trip to a large food and department store. I found everything and was through the checkout in less than 15 minutes. I hurried to my car and just as I turned on the ignition, I realized I had forgotten to buy flour for a quiche I wanted to make. I went back into the store reluctantly, because of the frozen items in the car I had purchased and it being July in Arizona.

I quickly got the flour but found the checkout lines were much longer than before. After about five minutes a woman with a full cart in front of me told me that the man at the photo counter was taking people who had only one or two items. I thanked her, and hugging the bag of flour close to me, I got behind the two people ahead of me.

The photo clerk was a friendly, talkative man, which caused him to be very slow at ringing people up. The first lady had only one item, but he talked so incessantly she put her credit card in upside down once, then, the second time, backwards while listening to him. Ten minutes later she got it right. He bagged her items, and the elderly man in front of me moved forward. He placed three packages of meat on the counter.

While ringing up his items the photo clerk engaged him in cheerful conversation, too, the result being that in trying to keep in the conversation the customer forgot his pin number. After several minutes he was successful, but when the clerk picked up the meat to bag it, the counter was covered with red stains. He tried to bag the meat but had difficulty getting the plastic bag open. He pulled numerous times at the top, to no avail. Reluctantly, he licked his finger and got it open. Because of the leaking meat he decided to put the first bag into a second one and struggled to get that one open. Taking the man's package with him, he mumbled something and disappeared. He returned, and the customer and I waited patiently as he cleaned off the counter, washed off the bag and handed the man his purchase. This had taken a total of 15 minutes.

I set my flour down on the counter, he rang it up, I paid him cash and as he was about to bag it, we noticed flour was squirting out of a hole in the bag on the wet counter. I looked down to see flour all over my black blouse.

The clerk struggled to open another plastic bag and told me to take the flour to customer service, and they would allow me to exchange it. In my hurry I forgot to get my receipt. I had now been in the store approximately 30 minutes. I kept thinking about the groceries in my car.

I waited in line at the service desk while the first of three customers in front of me returned several items. Questions were asked, prices checked and forms signed and 10 minutes later the next person moved up in line. Her problem had to do with a two-piece outfit she wanted to return. The clerk examined it and half way through the process for a refund the woman said, "I've changed my mind. I'd rather exchange it for another color instead."

The clerk waited while she went to get another one and, upon returning, the woman told her that she could only find one half of the one she wanted and it wasn't even the exact style as the first one. The original was put through the procedure again to get the amount for the refund.

The woman then decided to take the one piece of the second set, but because part of it was missing, this entailed more research as to what price to charge. Finally the clerk figured it out, rang it up and bagged it. By my watch another 20 minutes had passed. The woman got one foot away, turned and placed the bag on the counter saying she decided not to take the garment after all. The woman ahead of me turned and looked at me with eyes the size of a lemur. I could only duplicate her look back at her, in sympathy. The final refund took another seven minutes.

At this point I was ready to leave the leaky bag of flour on the counter, get another one and go home. But since I didn't have a receipt or another bag to carry it in, I could just see Murphy, whom I was sure had been hovering around me, prompt the security guard at the door to ask me where my receipt was, and ask why I was taking a bag of flour?

I envisioned a policeman being called, handcuffs, and a drive to the nearest police station. I thought about what my children and my son-in-law, a former policeman, would say. Close to breaking out in a sweat, I was brought back to reality when the woman in front of me moved forward. Ten minutes later her items were processed and it was my turn. The clerk took the leaky bag of flour, gave me a receipt and told me to get another bag.

My first trip in for all my groceries, including check-out, took 15 minutes. The second time took over an hour for one bag of flour. Hopefully, after that, Murphy went off to bother someone else. I now keep a cooler in my car for perishables.

- Lenna C. Wyatt

Lenna C. Wyatt, of Scottsdale, Ariz., has written dozens of short stories, many with O. Henry-style endings. She's nearly finished with a mystery and continues to work on an archaeological novel about the first 2,000 years of human history.