The Bread Lady?

OK, the grocery store that appears in many of my blogs (let's face it, more like rants than blogs), the one where freaky shit always happens either to me or I witness?  I stopped in yesterday and I was getting some bagels in the bread area and this crazy lady started talking to me, except she wasn't talking to me as much as she was yelling at me.  "Are you the one who takes care of the bread?"  "Hey, are you the one with the bread?"  I wasn't sure she was directing her question (or, scream) at me until I looked up and she was in my face, eyes sweating, her face beet red, 2 seconds from an aortic aneurysm.

I looked at her like she might need to be on meds (because she probably does if she isn't already), then she realized perhaps I'm not in charge of bread and she asked, "Oh, are you a customer?"  I nodded, still unsure if I wanted to speak or not, then she just walked away.  Why do I continue to go that store when weird, stupid things (by that I mean weird stupid people) always happen?  Why?  Because, weird stupid things always happen and I can't make this stuff up.

I had on a black coat, jeans, and a white knit beret.  Does that say bread lady to anyone?  I guess I can switch to my vintage leopard pea coat and a red cap.  I'm thinking that doesn't say bread.  Maybe hooker, but not bread.

--Fortuitous Observer