Why is it that ‘mother’ is the only person blessed with the thrilling job of returning pop bottles to the store?

Returnable bottles are sort of like pennies – not quite worth enough to make it worth all the effort. However, if my memory serves me right, I can remember trading one pop bottle for one penny and feeling like I was on ‘top of the world’ because of it. Of course, I must admit that it happened BEFORE I became a ‘young adult’.

Many moons ago, my sister-in-law and I decided to surprise the folks by sprucing up the place while they were away on a trip. Planning our ‘big’ surprise, we busied ourselves with a gigantic painting project, re-doing the entire living area of the house.

Now, we really got into this thing. Finishing up the painting, Darlene decided to purchase a new sofa for the living room. With all that new stuff in the house, we really hated to rehang the old drapes, thus our new plan was born. We would gather up all the old pop bottles (worth two cents at that time) and use the money to purchase new draperies.

Well, we did it – but at an extreme loss to our ‘Young Adult’ dignity. I was 20 and Darlene was probably 18 at the time. Also, you must remember that this all happened back in the days when recycling was not the ‘in’ thing to do like it is now. (If you went to the dump scrounging for ‘goodies’ you surely didn’t do it when anyone might see you.)

Back in those days, any amount of bottles over and above the amount traded straight-across for another six-pack, always promised you a dirty look from the clerk. They didn’t want to bother with you so they would make you wait until they had nothing better to do. Sometimes every store in town would give you the “Sorry, we don’t take those” routine when you knew you hadn’t been out of town for three years.

Okay, we were willing to humble ourselves to that extent – our minds were made up – we were going to buy those draperies before the folks got home. Gathering up all the bottles at our homes, the relatives all chipped in with their bottles, friends helped, and off we went to town. The back of that old Chevy was piled high with bottles, and of course, the trunk was stuffed to the brim.

Into the old R&B Market we went, sought out our friendly grocer man, and sticking our noses in the air with a sort of ‘false pride’ we asked him if he could take our bottles. “Well, let’s see what you’ve got,” he said as we led him out to the car.

Pausing thoughtfully there beside the car for a moment, he scratched his head and said, “Looks like somebody’s going to the carnival.”

Complete, absolute demoralization.

He was a good man, and he bought the bottles, but – we have never forgotten that day. Yes, the carnival was in town, but oh, the mortification we suffered from that remark. No explanation was forthcoming, either. We were struck dumb.

Well, today it was my job again to return the pop bottles to the store. Now, we are not a soda pop family. It is non-nutritional, thus harmful to all, but occasionally the Zieglers imbibe – thus the small assortment of bottles which I tired of stumbling over.

Not thrilled about the idea of wasting my noon hour on this distasteful task, I left work feeling quite grumpy. But I’ll be blessed if I could find anyone to cooperate with me. Everywhere I went, I ran into a smiling face. Climbing out of my car in the supermarket parking lot, I looked up to see this ‘person’ smiling at me – so I smiled back.

On into the store for a basket in which to haul the bottles when – oh, no, here came a mother with a little baby and I couldn’t help returning the big smiles they gave me.

Now, I can understand people smiling at me if I have smiled at them first. But this business of people smiling just for the fun of it can really get on a body’s nerves.

Back to the car with the basket, I crawled into the driver’s seat so that I could take a quick peek in the rear view mirror, checking for ballpoint pen streaks, carbon smears, or possibly a green wart growing on the end of my nose..nothing!

Proceeding on as planned, I quickly loaded those bottles, wheeled them into the back area of the supermarket where this disgustingly happy, cheerful person quickly counted my bottles and cans. Filling out the slip as to the money due me, he gave me a cheery smile, thanked me, and I was on my way again.

Finishing up my shopping as quickly as possible, I made my exit. I had to get out of there – a person could go crazy surrounded by all those smiling faces. This beautiful November I am thankful. Times have changed for sure, and some things are for the better. Who ever heard of a store clerk smiling at you when you are returning pop bottles?

Happy Thanksgiving!