Am I The Drama at Sprouts? A One-Woman Grocery Store Meltdown

AM I THE DRAMA? A One-Woman Tragedy in Four Bottles of Alkaline Water (they were .69 cents a bottle a steal)

Crowded grocery market with shoppers choosing produce and checking out — Shoppers fill a warmly lit grocery market while selecting fresh produce and everyday essentials.

“They say, “Cardi, you tweakin’,” nah, I don’t be tweakin’ enough
Bitches be doin’ shit, and I been letting it slide, and I don’t be bringin’ it up
Bitches be out here tellin’ lies about me, and y’all just be eating it up
But when I drag her to hell, “Cardi, you evil as fuck”” – Cardi B “Dead”

Picture it. A Monday. Not just Monday. My Standard routine with my true evening ritual: I go workout and sweat the stress of the day away. Then I go to Staples run to make my copies for trivia, and then and only then the hallowed grocery pilgrimage for lunch for the week. I typically go to Trader’s Joes but tonight I chose Sprouts. I chose poorly.

I walk into Sprouts, a little to happy-go-lucky I am in my Stepford Wives mindset. I end up with the iconic Strawberry Poppy Salad and 4 bottles of alkaline water. I am trying to be healthy. I am working on my self-improvement. No kombucha, because I am TURNING OVER A NEW LEAF, thank you very much. I gather my sad little salad and my four bottles of fancy water like the disciplined baddie I’m trying to become.

Shopping cart surrounded by scattered fruits and vegetables in a dark grocery store — A lone shopping cart stands amid scattered produce in a shadowy grocery store aisle.

And then. THEN!!! I approached the register. I forgot to put the gray bar up to separate the items from the customer in front of me. Forgetting about the sacred conveyor belt divider, that tiny plastic bar that separates each customer, is a crime against humanity. I place my items down like an absolute rookie, and this woman with a bad weave and attitude turns to me with the fury of a thousand suns and snaps, “Can I finish?” rolling her eyes so hard I felt the breeze. I was wondering if she rolled any harder could she see her past life? A part of me wishes I channeled my inner Cardi B, but I channeled my inner Catholic.

I apologize. Dramatically, sure, I’ll own that “OMG, I AM SO SORRY”. But I was SINCERE. And she has the AUDACITY to tell me “Stop being dramatic?? Ma’am. Ma’am. You are the one rolling your eyes, from me forgetting the little gray divider. It’s you, YOU ARE THE DRAMA. The projection of frustration, on a stranger, on me!!! The absolute projection happening at register 1 of a Sprouts on a Monday night.

So, I slink off to another line like a woman exiled from the line of purchasing, and the universe says “We are not done with you yet” the next two cashiers proceed to psychologically ice me out. One’s staring at his name badge like it holds the secrets of the universe. I’m standing there, water bottles and salad, wondering if I should just leave the salad and my dignity behind and drive home in shame.

Customer points angrily at cashier while shoppers wait at grocery checkout — A tense grocery checkout interaction unfolds as a customer questions the cashier while another shopper waits nearby.

It would be great to say I persevered. I got my salad. I got my water. I got home. But I didn’t, I instead put all the items back and left. As someone who desired that delicious salad, while trying to load 2027 Baddie up. One thought echoed through my head was she now thinks I’m dramatic, and honestly? I might be proving her right by mapping out every other Sprouts location in a 30-mile radius. So, I never have to see her again. Is that dramatic? Absolutely. Do I regret it? We’ll revisit going to THAT Sprouts in November of 2028.

But here’s the real ending, I left with no food, because I felt disrespected. Past the bit: that customer was having a bad day that had nothing to do with me, and for one hot second I almost let her bad mood become my bad mood too. I didn’t. I said sorry, I took the L, I left without my Strawberry Poppy Salad. But I kept my Monday intact, with the good vibes I was feeling.

That’s the whole lesson, dramatics aside somebody else’s nasty attitude is theirs. You can hand it right back to them without ever picking it up yourself. I will get a better salad another day, and that delicious Strawberry Salad with feta cheese can feed another person, just not me. I ended up with a bag of Smartfood White Cheddar Popcorn, so much for being a baddie.

Until Next Time,

Che Michelle

If you would like to sponsor my next Salad, not from that Sprouts à Ko-fi.com/chemichelletales

What I really wanted to say to this woman, but my brain shut it down à https://youtube.com/shorts/F7TTLla_csQ?is=mC0vRQhPJjc5sWNF

September 23, 2026 0

30 Days of Essays: From Tire Issues to Creative Growth

damaged tire after tire explosion at high speed on highway

Coffee Chronicles: Tire Shop Edition

Side Note: I wrote this a few weeks ago. I have now come to see from the essay published Sept 1, 2026, that I will fail my own personal challenge. I am still going to post as mush as i can for the next month. So enjoy these post.

I am always having Tire issues: flat tires, blowout tires, weird lumps in tires. I will take Tire issues over car accidents every time. Normally, on Sunday my friends and I do a podcast, and then I spend the rest of the afternoon either going to work to catch up for the week or going back to my boyfriend to watch TV and eat dinner. Today, I said, let me take care of my car, because I want to keep this for at least 15 years. What typically would happen, I would walk to a nearby coffee shop, order a specialty latte and sandwich, and act like a writer, in one of those 90’s rom coms. Today, I sat at the National Tire and Battery across from a cemetery, because today was Mother Nature’s Day to rain. I am not mad about the rain; we need the rain. Honestly, I don’t need that latte, but it would be nice. Sitting at the NTB as the technicians change my tire, and my oil was overdue. I worked on the first draft of an ok short story. I will not submit it because it’s blah, but with some revision I can see potential.

Anyway, I have been playing with this idea: publishing 30 days of essays. I know, crazy, right? I wanted to post 31 days of short stories in August, and I never made time, but if I take the rest of this month to edit, write, and create the images I want to include, I can do 30 days of posts. Now why, may you ask, 30 days of posts? Well, I came up with three reasons.

One: I have so much finished and unfinished work just taking up space on my phone, computer, and in my head. What good are these rants, essays, stories, or poems if I keep them to myself and only share them once in a blue moon with a select group of people? The one time I shared my blog outside my close circle, a comment I got said it touched them and that it was a good blog. I can’t tell you how gassed up I was. I almost posted everything to Substack with the tagline, ” your new favorite writer. I desire to share my thoughts and life experiences with others, to inspire, to challenge, if nothing else to provide a laugh, in the absurdity of this life.

Two: Being scared has not helped anyone. Tell me one person whose being scared has helped. I am not talking about life-and-death scenarios. I mean the person with the great idea who never did it because it was too much work. The person who is afraid of what their family or friends will say, because they went after their passion and failed. As a society, we give too much power and validation to people who never tried anything in life except breathing. My being afraid to share my work is just Wack. I know the internet is where people like to bully people, but you know what, I can turn off my comments. How will I get better or expand if I don’t post? I don’t want to be the person who passes away, her family finds her old notebooks and computers, and they are like, “She wrote the most beautiful stories; why did she never share them?” No, rather share them and be ridiculed, than not and be basic. Also, several astrologers on all socials have said that if you put your work out there, you will see great success. I hedge my bets on those three ladies, because they have been right on quite a few things.

Third: This reason is so juvenile, but I like it. WordPress has these two badges; one is the post 30 days in a row badge, and I am like, why the hell not. The other is the Vampire badge, and again, I am like, do I have to write a story about vampires? No, I just wrote After Dark. I can do both and get two badges for coming out of my comfort zone. Create a portfolio I can show a few people when I want to pursue writing opportunities. I think once I have posted all the finished products on

Fourth, I need to learn how to use WordPress. My WordPress design is trash; I need to learn how to make it look better. Posting 30 days in a row may help me learn how to post on WordPress better. What do I mean by better? I’ll look at the stats; this is a win-win. I can take more WordPress classes, update the look, and work on making a presentable website that people would love to visit regularly.

These are just the thoughts I had while waiting for my car oil change and new tire. I wanted to share them as I go on this journey of 30 posts in 30 days. This will be interesting, and I hope to accomplish this personal journey. Below is a link if you want to buy me a latte.

https://ko-fi.com/chemichelletales

Until Next Time,

Che Michelle

Also, I use Grammarly to clean up my writing.

September 2, 2026 0

TikTok Inspired My Author Encounter: A Coffee Shop Adventure

Coffee Chronicles X Che Michelle Tales

Geri Cohen Biddy author of Muse:Brown Sugar-A Dangerous Love Story

I would like to declare TikTok made me do it! A few weeks ago, an author on TikTok encouraged followers to come to Bowie, MD to the Barnes and Nobles to meet her and get a copy her book signed. I realized I had a rare free weekend and decided to go. My friends were busy, and my boyfriend had family plans. My original plan was to do my morning workouts, planned a brief stop at work, then headed to meet the author. But my job was closed due to a system outage. So, no stopping at work, and I figured I could sit at Barnes and Nobles, work on a blog, essay or whatever I desire. I packed my laptop, checked my bank account, and set off. Now, here in the Barnes and Noble café, I see the author setting up her TikTok camera. I resolve to play it cool or at least try to be cool. My plan: buy a book, get it signed, ask about doing a podcast. As I wait, a little girl comes up and starts chatting to me about gummy worms. Pause, what is about kids that they feel safe talking to me, and wanting me to play with them. I looked over to the grandmother, and told her she was fine. I smiled at the kid, the next ten minutes the little human was smiling, laughing, and enjoying the freedom of life. I realized as adults we should protect spaces for kids to be safe and happy, I digress.

Grandmother and granddaughter reading 'The Wonderful Adventures of Zola' together in a children's book corner — A joyful grandmother reads with her granddaughter in a cozy children’s book section

Here I play-by-play of what happens next. After the kid and their family left, with the guardian, stating out loud “That cost 21 dollars, you sure you want that?” The older sibling shook their head yes, and the grandmother with the sass only an older black woman could muster, well fine I guess but we ain’t getting no ice cream. I suspect they still got ice cream once leaving the Barnes and Nobles. The little one who decided I would be the observer of her whimsy gave a side look over to her grandmother, of mischievous disagreement, that ice cream was to be had on this hot Saturday afternoon. I pack up my stuff and walk over to the author’s table. I wasn’t nervous, but my eyes were wet, oh no nerves and air conditioners, attacking my eyeballs. There are three other authors, but I am on a mission Geri Cohen Biddy energy from her TikTok videos motivated this adventure, and it did not disappoint. Warm smile, great energy, and the book in question drew me to the table. As if I floated to her. I had to wait my turn, a woman was talking to her, but when she was done, we talked. The usual author talks, just magical enough and cordial. I was curious about what the book was like, a romantic story, heartbreak, or something else? The author gently informed me it was a memoir of her search for happily ever after—the first book in a three-book series “Muse: Brown Sugar- A Dangerous Kind of Love.”

Geri Cohen Biddy was warm, friendly, and funny. I enjoyed our brief interaction and, feeling bold, asked if she would join my friends’ podcast Three Angry Black People. She said yes, which made my heart skip a beat. Not only was it a yes, but it was also enthusiastic yes. Now I just need to convince the fellas to interview her. [Sidenote the fellas are not hard to convince we trust each other and want what is best for the pod. Really, I just need to ask and see if they agree.] A thought danced through my head, but my stomach bubbled silently, it needed fuel. Afterward, I stayed at B&N Café to work on this post and ordered a Spinach and Feta Cheese Pretzel. It was okay I didn’t eat enough today so it filled me up enough. My drink is my 3^rd favorite Cold Brew Vanilla Cold Brew with foam. Even on a weight-loss/get-fit journey, I love Cold Brew with Cold foam. Here are the questions this adventure brought up. When will I finish the book? I am hoping for a week or two. I still have to work, and it depends on my free time. When will she be on the podcast? As of right now June 28, 2026. Did you come off like a stalker? God, I hope not, that would be frightening. It’s not like I know her Birthday, I mean she volunteered that she is an Aquarius.

All in all, this was a great Coffee Chronicles: I got food, wrote a post, and met an author. Win-Win, locked down a guest for the next podcast. I decided not to get a picture with the author it felt like crossing a line. Instead, I look forward to learning more about her process during the podcast. Below are some links to check out:

Here the author website : Geri Cohen Biddy

Here a link to buy the book: https://amzn.to/4ei3tqh

Until Next Time,

Che Michelle

June 14, 2026 0

The Beauty of Autumn in Baltimore: A Coffee Shop Adventure

Heads up to any readers out there, this post was written in October 2025, and I was in the midst of a temporary lay-off. Dealing with unexpected weight gain, which I found out was due to perimenopause, and just wanted to create an essay, rant, or prose about the thoughts in my head. There is no purpose to this blog; I just wanted to share a glimpse into my life at the time. Also, just writing, writing is becoming a dying art, and I would like for it to make a comeback, like common sense and $5.00 footlongs.

Welcome to another Coffee Chronicles, where today I spend money, I should probably save on a cup of coffee and a meal. Earlier, I kept up with my neighborhood walk, which was supposed to lead to either Sistah’s Sweets or Blueprint Café. These walks have been refreshing to my spirit as I build back up to running in the mornings again. During the pandemic, I ran every day and lost 20 lbs. in 2020. Fast forward to 2025, and I have now reached over 200 lbs. Please don’t tell Toni Fine, I can’t handle her form of critique. My medication has definitely contributed to the weight gain. Despite this, my goal is to walk over 10,000 steps a day. Today, my walk took an unexpected turn when I encountered a man having a psychological break, shouting and threatening those around (and even those not around). At this point, I turned around and took a different route, feeling guilty about not helping yet needing to take care of myself. Along the way, however, I was struck by the often-overlooked beauty of Baltimore’s autumn, the vibrant orange trees rival Vermont’s leaves, while the sun’s warm caress heats the concrete and creates the perfect balance of a warm fall day and a crisp breeze. This temperature swing feels, unmistakably, like a sign of global warming. After my walk, which ended up less brisk than hoped, I made my way to Blueprint Café, only to find it crowded, just like Bird in the Hand Café. Wondering if I have a developing issue with coffee shops beginning with “B,” I scanned the menu, realized it was more of a late-afternoon lunch spot, and decided to try again another day. Debating between Sistah’s Bakeshop and just 7-Eleven coffee, I remembered Kitsch Kitchen. I’ve been there a few times, always enjoying the service, so I decided to grab coffee and maybe a bite before heading home.

Street view with colorful rowhouses and autumn leaves on sidewalk — A person walks a dog along a leafy street lined with colorful rowhouses in fall.

Upon arriving, I saw only one person ahead of me ordering food, which at first seemed promising. However, the wait stretched to five minutes for three items, testing my patience. Realizing my irritation, I took a moment to talk to my inner child and gently parented my ego, reminding myself to stay calm. Once centered, I ordered a drink called “You’re My Best Friend” and Avocado Toast on Honey Grain bread. (For those curious, “You’re My Best Friend” is a drip coffee with shots of espresso, caramel, chocolate, and cinnamon—though I requested no cinnamon). The drink was traditional with hints of chocolate and caramel, while the avocado toast, though good, needed more seasoning. I longed for flaky sea salt or red pepper flakes, especially since Avery Farms’ avocado toast has spoiled me in the past. As a side note, the last time I visited Kitsch, I tried their “Breakfast at Tiffany’s “a smooth maple espresso with just the right amount of sweetness. I really enjoyed that cup of coffee.

I picture myself at R. House, blogging or writing book chapters. My layoff gives me time to rest, though I know I should get more organized. Instead, I explored local coffee shops with a side quest that boosts community connections. No Coffee Chronicles tomorrow; I’ll be working, but Thursday brings another coffee adventure outside Baltimore City. For now, I’ll enjoy supporting local businesses, even if it doesn’t help my weight goals.

Thank you for reading this post!

May 18, 2026 0

Coffee Chronicles- Almost Got “Got” at the library.

It has been a while since I wrote a Coffee Chronicles. I haven’t been able to sit at any coffee shops or visit them for longer than 10 minutes. A few weeks ago, I decided to go to the library. I had a rare opportunity, no Trivia on Tuesday Night, due to Mardi Gras. I was torn between doing a step class with my favorite drill sergeant fitness instructor. Imagine the scene from the Crosby show when Debbie Allen worked Phylicia Rashad out until exhaustion. I played with the idea of starting back up to solid core classes, but I flash back to feeling my body tremble to exhaustion. Plus, I checked my account and didn’t have enough for a Solid core class and parking downtown. The snowstorm at the end of January messed up my rhythm to be a solid core baddie, given my current discipline level. Earlier this year, I told myself I wanted to make writing a habit. I decided to go sit down and write. I could do the Whole Foods in Towson, grab dinner, and write. Even though I considered going to the Paris Bakery, I loved the lighting and the food. I hated the parking in the area and knew it was outside my budget. Cue Dave Ramsay, “You don’t have to spend money on parking.” “You are damn sure don’t need to spend money on overpriced food when you have food at home.” So, I decided to be frugal and go to the library. I have gone to the Towson Public Library a few times. Parking is reasonable, $2.00, and going to the library is fiscally responsible.

Interior of a city library with students reading and using laptops at tables under warm lamps — People study and socialize in a sunlit city library with high shelves and warm lighting

So, I decided to go to the library, even though this particular library has a smell, and not a book smell. I should mention that there is a large, unhoused population at this library, but honestly, they’re quite nice and don’t bother anyone. I would rather have them in the library than deal with the harsh winter conditions. At least they are warm and not freezing. So, I can grow the f*ck up while I use a public space to work on a project. I got to the library ready to work on my writing when I realized I had left my cell phone in the car. I felt my eyes roll as I thought to myself that it would be ok to sit and work without my phone. I can work without my phone, but my addiction to that pocket technology called a cellphone dragged me back to my car. I couldn’t spend 90 minutes without checking TikTok or pretending to listen to music while really procrastinating by swiping. I went back to my car, trekking back to the library to sit next to the quiet older lady. She was color-coding a notebook and felt like the area I chose was perfect. I could see and hear while also maintaining privacy.

After 30 minutes, the lady beside me left. I figured she must have finished her work, so I kept typing. When I felt a pair of eyes on me, I looked around to see if someone was watching me. Cue the Rockwell song, lyrics popping into my head: “Somebody watching me.” Fun Fact: Michael Jackson sings the hook on that One-Hit Wonder. When I noticed a young man drop his bookbag at a desk over from me. I thought nothing of it and continued writing. An older man hacked up part of his lung. Which made me realize I needed a mask. I had an uneasy feeling, and I kept my head on a swivel. The man who was one desk over was not quite jumpy, but he seemed to be analyzing people. I thought nothing of it until I felt eyes on me again. I looked over at the young man, and he disappeared, moving back into the racks of books. I would be fine if he brought the books back to the desk. He still wore the pooh shiesty, and now my danger signals were going off. Whoopi Goldberg’s voice penetrated my head, the movie clip from Ghost, “You’re in Danger, Gurl.” I decided to move to another area of the desk, closer to the librarian. I settled and noticed the lady I sat beside was at the computer. I open my computer to see the young man from the back with his bag sitting in front of me. I thought, “Why the hell did he move?” I kept my head down, but noticed he wasn’t watching everyone, just me.

At this moment, all my years of watching the CBS murder mystery combo kicked in. Angela Fletcher and Perry Mason trained me in how to escape a perp without getting caught. The next time he moved, I took my parking ticket and the bank card with the least amount on it from my wallet and shoved them into my pocket. I checked everything around me. Now I could go to the third floor and sit there for a moment until I found a new target, but that felt like I would isolate myself. I noticed I have two exits. One was the bridge to the parking lot, but it was also the most dangerous, because there were no cameras, and this rejected YN could not follow me. Then the Ramp, which seems the most dangerous, takes me to the ground floor, but I could make my way to Subway or 7-11 or even run down the street where the police usually pass. Next time the pooh-shiesty fellow got up, I acted like I was going to the bathroom. I realized I should have waited to move the parking ticket and card until I got to the bathroom, but I wanted to be ready. I then bobbed and weaved through the stacks, making my way to the exit. I stopped in an area with a parent and a kid, looking as if they were about to leave.

Pooh shesity man, walked towards the bathrooms. I got up and walked out with the family, taking the ramp to the bottom floor. Why would I take the Ramp!!!!! I really am like Jessica Fletcher; that was a bonehead move. The Ramp, but I made it to the bottom. I didn’t feel it was fluttering anymore. No-Kill Bill musical sequence with whirling sounds before the bride attacks her next victim. I sprinted up the street to the parking lot and paid quickly. I took the elevator to my car. Looked around and ran to my car. I drove away, wondering if I just psyched myself out for nothing, cause maybe it was nothing. I know my danger signs, first “Rockwell,” “Somebody Watching me” playing in my head. The YN is moving to different parts of the library as I try to write. My fight or flight response is kicking in, and instead of going to the librarian and saying, ” Hey, I feel unsafe I turn this into an overactive imagination of getting to the car. I told my friend about this interaction, and their response was, “You need to be more careful.” I side-eyed my phone, my inner Kanye before his antisemitic rant came out, “How Sway?” Am I supposed to go home and never venture outside? Am I only going to the library between the hours of 10-3 pm? Was I supposed to go home, watch TV, sleep, and say, “maybe next time”? I just know that moving forward, I am going to the coffee shop, and parking next to it costs a damn. I do enjoy the library, but until I do like Cardi B, and get some Bear Mace. The library is only an option during daylight hours.

In conclusion, I was unable to write a story. The man in the pooh shiesty mask moved on to another target. But I got a really cool essay out of trying to do the right thing, and realizing I got to start my morning runs again.

May 10, 2026 0