To the wretched woman who magically materialized in front of my shopping basket at the supermarket, when I briefly turned my back to grab some chocolate from the ‘impulse rack’:
I’m not stupid, I know what you did.
It just turned out to be easier to switch to the next line where the cute, eager and superfast Thai woman was on the register, than to confront you with your even-too-much-for-Germany boldness and reinvent the way you eat sauerkraut, or pelt you the back of the head with fresh produce.
Sailing out of there ten minutes later, leaving you stuck behind two people seemingly intent on counting out their tab in small change was justice enough.
I hope you’re still there, wench.