As we approach week 3 of the 2018 NFL Season, I am sure we are already starting to think of this weekends grocery list whether we are BBQ’ing with friends at la casa or taking a delicious dish or two to Sunday’s Corn Hole Tailgate Tourney. (Must be 25 and under to play this game) Whatever your plans, we all have to endure the painful task of grocery shopping. Let me ask you; Am I the only one that dreads this weekend event and avoids it all cost? We are the epitome of stupid people doing stupid things when it comes to this little funny and humorous task. Let me explain why…
First and foremost, the parking. Any particular reason we feel the need to tack on and extra 10 minutes to our trek to the find the closest parking? Holding up 5 cars just to get that spot that gets us 5 feet closer to the automatic doors even though your food will be transported in a wire basket with wheels that basically moves itself doesn’t make us a savvy shopper in my book, it makes us lazy Assholes.
Then, we have to play “Let’s Pick A Basket”. This is definitely my most hated guessing game. Even through all the testing and trial runs, it’s inevitable we pick the cart that will have us walking on an angle for the entire duration of our shopping experience. Of course, this Body-to-Mind connection doesn’t occur until you have already entered the building and are passing the flower section.
The Produce Section…you have arrived. Are all grocery store traffic flow patterns set up this way? They sure seem to be, I can’t think of any grocery store that I have been to that is set up different. I would imagine, just like any other type of retail business, there has been extensive research in human behavior that would give insight to the Grocery Gods that this section needs to be first. Huh? Why would we want to shop for the most unstable and un-refrigerated perishable items FIRST? Does this make any sense? I’ll tell you right now, when I get to the register and the Cashier asks me, and it’s going to happen, “What is this” and holds up a wilted bundle of cilantro, I will politely ask him/her to set it down next to the used coupons on their register because it’s not going home with me.
Something to ponder: We shop for organic but then watch them boldly spray pesticides on our veggies with their fancy misting shelves and we are somehow ok with it.
Then we head over to my favorite: The Deli! I grab a ticket like the trusting stupid person that I am and think they are actually using the LCD customer counting display. Cute, right? After about 10 minutes and 6 non-verbal death threats to the back of the head of the dude I know cut me off who squeezed in his order of Black Forest Ham, it’s finally my “turn”. Ham and Swiss, that’s usually all I need but America doesn’t make it this easy anymore. I come from a place where less is more. The 77 choices of Ham and 112 different cheeses just causes temporary grocery shopping GERD. The Brand. Do I want to taste it? How much do I want? The slice size. Honestly, I don’t know answers to any of these questions. Tell you what, put it between two pieces of bread and then I can give you an accurate assessment. Every “Deli Technician” I encounter must be up for the “Stupid People at Work” award. Good Lord just cut me a pound of ham already so I can head to the Butcher section.
After passing the water and, ironically, the diabetic-generating drink isle, we approach the Butcher. Where is this guy? Why is he never at his station? Doesn’t matter, though…does it? No one ever orders anything from this dude, we move straight over to the packaged meat and try to find that nice cut of whatever the hell is on sale…unless you shop a bottle or two into the day…like I do…sometimes…then you buy whatever your heart desires, no matter the price. Might I add, here we have yet another unstable and perishable item, which is at least refrigerated thankfully, but we are still only half way through this gut-wrenching process so what once was red could very well be grey by the time you reach the check-out.
Guess what time it is? It’s Pick-Out-Your-Shrimp time! You have swiftly moved over to the seafood section where you instantly get mad because your shrimp price is a direct reflection of how much work, or lack of work, was done preparing it for you for purchase. Farmed Salmon: Practically free. Wild Salmon: $87.13 per pound unless you are club card member. You pick out what you need without sacrificing your kids college fund and then throw your notebook paper-wrapped seafood in with the slightly chilled pork chops and damp cilantro. Something is definitely brewing in that basket. Yum.
On our way to frozen section where most of the food is pre-cooked anyway(why?), we pass the dairy section filled with half-gallons of things I never even knew could be milked which is next to my personal favorite; the mid-isle shelf of Entenmann’s cakes and donuts where it’s Buy-One-Get-Eleven. You shamefully pick up a dozen boxes along with a half-gallon of Almond Milk (because it’s healthier, duh) and keep it moving as quickly as possible looking down at your, now titled, disgusting fat pig feet the entire way. By this time, most people would shop the 3-4 isles within the frozen section for another 10-15 minutes to see how they can reduce their weekly dinner cook-times by providing their family with pre-packaged carcinogens. I usually skip this step, unless I am on the hunt for ice cream, of course. If I am being honest, at this point I am already mapping out the most direct path from where I am standing to the wine/beer section, wine/beer section to the register and register to freedom.
After picking out our favorite adult cough-syrup and weekday stress-reducer, we start staring over at the registers. I am sure I can speak for others when I say my process of elimination for line selection works like this: No patrons with more than 1 cart; No kids; No Grandma’s with checkbooks; No clueless bagger; No cigarette availability; A consistent beep every 5-8
seconds. Isle 5 it is. Only problem is, I’ve just locked eyes with the Asshole and his Black Forest Ham. I look at him, he looks at me. I look at Isle 5, he looks at Isle 5. He looks back at me, I’ve already left my chalk/line marker! I instantaneously catapult my grocery cart into warp speed and reach Isle 5 check-out. Black Forest Ham dude never had a chance. I start to unload my cart and can’t help but to snicker a bit as I watch him walk past Isle 5 as if that was his plan all along. Whatever Dude, keep it movin’ and embrace defeat.
Sandra the check-out girl asks me how my day is going and it takes everything within me not to say “Every 5-8 seconds, Sandra…every 5-8 seconds”. I respond with the expected adult pleasantries and monitor the current process to see how much I’ll be taken for this week. Sandra asks “Is this parsley?” I respond with “No Sandra, it’s Cilantro. Actually, it looks a bit w…never mind”. Bill the retired bagger who just re-entered the workforce at the young age of 74 then asks me if I want my wine/beer double-bagged. Is this question even necessary? Dealing with stupid people and the stupid things people say doesn’t have to be a daily occurrence, does it? However, I was raised to respect my elders so I respond with “No thanks, Bill. Not a big deal”. I’m such a douche.
I swipe my card and tell Bill “I got it”. I don’t need his old ass taking my cart out to my car and expecting another 3 bucks outta me.
Anyone have any dreadful or hilariously funny grocery store stories? Click HERE and Share with Me!