Then, in addition to being covered in citrus fizz, you will have deep painless glass wounds in your ankle that cause enough blood to flow that it squelches in your flipflops when you walk, and people will give you funny looks as you get your last item, check out and head home, and the manager will come out and preëmptively give you his card in case you want a settlement from their insurance company, which is an additional 50% worth of embarrassment over that of knocking down the bottle in the first place, which in turn was 50% more embarrassing than buying $50 worth of mostly cheese.
The next morning, you will want to change your blood-soaked dressing, which means ripping off about 10 square inches of leg hair. All in all, a rather awkward experience. I'm glad I had recently had a haircut and so looked more like a member of the middle classes again.
Let this be a lesson to you: never buy groceries.
In other news, maru_mari got hit by a truck a little.