Summer People

The other day I ducked into the local discount store for a quick errand. I only needed one thing I could get from their outdoor garden center which has its own checkout. Just take a minute. I grabbed a bottle of rose aphid spray (wet spring, the damn things love that) and went to the checkout. Only a couple of women ahead of me – great. Then I noticed . . .

1. Neither one had a cart or was holding anything to ring up.

2. Each held a sale flier. One had what appeared to be a shopping list.

3. Both were dressed casually but expensively in designer summer chic.

Oh crap. Summer people.

And yes, we know at a glance you’re summer people. It’s not just the head-to-toe designer labels, from the Chanel sunglasses to the Prada sandals. It’s not just the flashy second-wife jewelry or the fact that you drove up to the local Wal-Mart in a Jaguar convertible. It’s the way you look at us, the little people who live here year-round. As if you’re mentally storing up amusing anecdotes about the “colorful locals” for the next time Martha invites you to the Hamptons.

I first ran into summer people at the grocery store the first year we lived here. This customer, at a small store that serves a blue-collar town of about 4,000 people, was incredulous that the butcher counter didn’t stock Kobe beef. “Look, just get me some. I don’t care what it costs. Hundred bucks a pound is fine. Just go get me some Kobe beef.” The kid working the butcher counter just shrugged in helpless resignation.

At the bakery, another summer person was aghast.

“You mean you don’t make your own homemade ice cream cones here?”

Clerk: “No ma’am.”

“That’s ridiculous. My kids HAVE to HAVE homemade ice cream cones.”

Clerk: “I’m sorry ma’am.”

“Well, where can I get them?”

Clerk: “There’s a bakery on Main Street. They might have them there.”

“Well, CALL THEM and find out!”

Clerk: “I can’t. I don’t have a phone or a phone book.”

“There’s one on the wall right behind you!”

Clerk: “That’s just a store intercom.”

“Well, FIND a PHONE, find a PHONEBOOK, and FIND OUT where I can get HOMEMADE ice cream cones!”

I resisted the temptation to tell her to go home, Google up a recipe and make some herself, since that would surely be the proper definition of homemade anyway.

So fast forward a few years. By now I know what to expect, and I know my quick errand won’t be quick. I’m in line behind summer people.

The clerk at the garden center looks a bit confused, as the summer person isn’t holding anything to ring up. “May I help you?”

Summer person, holding out sale flier: “I want one of these, two of these, four of those, one of these, two of these, but only if you have them in red instead of blue,” as she jabs the flier with her French-manicured fingertip.

The sales clerk, who is all alone in the garden center, looks helplessly at the lengthening line waiting to check out. “Ma’am, if you bring those things up here, I’ll be glad to check you out.”

The summer person merely holds out the sale flier again. “One of these, two of these, four of those, one of these, two of these in red not blue,” then walks off a couple of steps and whips out her cell phone. As she’s calling, she tosses back to the clerk, “Oh, and some ice too, of course.”

Summer person turns to her cell phone conversation, leaving the clerk nonplussed. She looks at the line waiting to check out, back at the summer person now deep in conversation but obviously expecting her order to be delivered. She reaches for her store intercom, but just then a manager walks by. “Aaron, thank goodness! Can you get these?” She hands over the sale flier and repeats the summer person’s order, down to “red, not blue.” Whew. Crisis solved.

So the next summer person is at the till. She hands over both a sale flier AND a shopping list. “One of these, three of those, I want this if you have it in green, four of these, plus this list . . ” I put the aphid spray back. I can get it at Ace Hardware. Summer people don’t shop at hardware stores.

I asked Dean to get some rose aphid spray at the hardware store the next day. He came back with it, but said, “Damn, that took forever. Only two people ahead of me, but damn.”

Me: “Summer people?”

Dean: “Yup.”

Me: “Sale flier, one of these, two of those, yadda yadda yadda?”

Dean: “Yup.”

I guess summer people do shop at hardware stores.