Something Is Bugging Me

Wanting to have organic eggs from our hens, we buy them organic chicken feed. This is not easy to do.  There are 2 stores in the area that sell organic hen feed. One is about 1/2 hour from my house and the other is about an hour away.  One would think I would prefer going to the store closest to my house but I am afraid of the cashier so I choose to go to the store an hour away.  OK, why am I afraid of the cashier?  She is mean.  Here is an almost verbatim conversation I had with her when I bought my first bag of feed there:

Me: After looking around the store and not seeing organic chicken feed anywhere, I approach the register and ask if they carry organic feed.
Cashier: "Ya."
Me: "Where can I find it?"
Cashier: "Duh! The feed room!"  Said with lots of attitude and sarcasm.
Me: "Pretend that I have never been here and don't know where or what the feed room is, actually don't pretend because I have never been here and don't know what or where the feed room is."
Cashier: Rolling her eyes.."Like, it's behind me and out the back."
Me: "OK, so can I just walk to the feed room and buy the feed there."
Cashier: Rolling her eyes..."Like, noooo.  You buy it here then get it from the feed room, duh."
Me:  Attempting to not throttle the girl..."Well, I would like to buy some organic feed then."
Cashier: Stares at me and says nothing.
Me:  Stare back and wonder if I am on Candid Camera.
Cashier:  "Well,  like, how much do you want?"
Me:  "How much do you have? What are the options? Do you have a list?"
Cashier:  Looking at me like I am the biggest idiot she has ever met, slowly pulls a list from the register and hands it to me while rolling her eyes.
Me: "I'll take a 25 pound bag." 
Cashier:  Moves to a different stool, pulls out a nail file and starts filing her nails.
Me:  Wondering if I should slowly back out of the store.
A nice young man walks to the register and asks if I have been helped yet.
I am not sure how to answer this question.
Me: "I would like a 25 pound bag of organic feed."
Cashier: Rings me up and tells me to pull my car around back to have the feed loaded.  This is new information.
I do not want to go back to this store for what I hope are obvious reasons.  So, I drive an hour every few months to buy chicken feed (I now buy 50 pound bags so I don't have to drive as often).

OK, so I drive to my hour away feed store and buy my 50 pound bag of organic feed.  Drive an hour home, open the back of my car and discover the bag completely covered in mites, along with the entire back of my car.  I triple bag the feed and haul it to the curb.  I call the store and explain the situation to them, they agree that they don't want the feed back in their store and tell me to come back the next day and they will give me a new bag.  I then hurry to the industrial car vacuum place and spend an hour thoroughly cleaning my car to make sure there are no mites.
The next day, I drive an hour back to the feed store.  I ask the to open the bag before loading it into my car and discover that not only is it full of mites but also infested with at least 3 other types of insects.  The guy who opened the bag looks squeamish and quickly drops the bag.  He tells me that was their last bag of organic feed and it must be because of the drought that they are infested.  OK.
My poor chickens have now been without feed for 3 days so I drive to the dreaded store 1/2 hour from my house.  Hooray! The mean cashier is not there.  Instead is a very nice 4H looking kind of kid that is very helpful.  I explain about the mites and he tells me that the feed he buys for his beef (that's right, not his cattle or cows or bovine, but his beef) often has mites and to lay it out in the sun for a few days to kill the mites.  I wonder how on earth I am suppose to lay 50 pounds of feed out in the sun without every bird in the neighborhood devouring it but decide not to ask because I don't want to appear ignorant in this country store that already intimidates me. 
We inspect the feed together and find it to be mite and bug free.  I also buy some food for the pig.
I get home, feed the chickens who don't seem all that hungry.  My 13 year old opens the pig food and screams.  It is full of weavels.  I know all about weavels.  A few years after being married, my husbands' wonderful and sweet grandmother came to our house for a visit.  She decided to bake and when she opened my bag of flour, discovered it full of weavels.  She showed it to me and explained that I should never bake with weavels (trust me, I wasn't planning on it).  I was too embarassed to tell her that the bag of flour was 4 years old.
Well, I call the feed store to explain the situation.  The man answers the phone with a deep Texas drawl and a "Howdy."  I tell him about the weavels and he says nothing.  I then ask what time they close so I can exchange the bag.  He says "Huh... you want to return the feed?"  I tell him, "Well, I did want to return the feed. All the way up to the point where you said 'huh.' Now I am not so sure what I am suppose to do."  He is silent so I hang up.  I return to the store with the pig food full of weavels.  A different 4H looking kid is there and happily exchanges the bag for me.  He goes on to tell me it must be full of bugs because of the drought.  OK.  I ask him to open the bag and I dig through it as far as possible and find it to be weavel free.
I return home, the 13 year old opens the bag and screams again.  I look inside.......yup.....full of weavels. 
I give up and tell him the protein will be good for the pig but to feed her outside.
The next day the 13 year old informs me that all of the weavels inside the bag have died. 
Must be the drought.