Combat Grocery Shopping

Grocery shopping in general is a form of utter torture for me and something my wife nearly has to hold a gun to my head in order to force me to leave the house and go do. Because of this, it is my usual habit when I cannot avoid making a run to buy whatever food items we need to do it either very late at night or very early in the morning. Now this brings up a whole other world of trouble like the time I thought I was being very shrewd and left the house to go shopping at two o’clock in the morning.

Being that I live in what I call a cancerous suburban tumor during the usual times to shop every grocery store is a madhouse of self-righteous assholes running around grabbing stuff off shelves, while talking on a cell phone, and believing they are ordained by God to have the right of way in everything. Trying to avoid as many of these suburbanite animals as possible I decided one day to do the shopping when I thought all God’s children would be home in bed, that way I could zip in and find the stuff I need and be out without any hassle. Instead, I was introduced to a whole other world of crazy featuring one fellow carrying on conversations about basketball with the stack of cantaloupes in the fruit section.

Strictly speaking, I only heard one side of the discussion but from what I could understand, the cantaloupes were making more sense with the gentleman asking me my opinion as I walked by. After hearing my opinion he was so distraught at me taking the side of the fruit that since then I have slightly tempered my desire at solitude while shopping with the need come home to my family alive.

Unfortunately, when the desperate need of some missing ingredient for one of my wife’s culinary creations arrives she is more than ready to force me to make a grocery run during the crowded daytime hours. Such was the case a couple of weeks ago and after a certain amount of screeching from her and gnashing of teeth by me, I dutifully hopped in my car and drove to the grocery store. It was late Saturday afternoon and as expected it was full of good citizens returning from a day of rest and recreation.

This particular grocery store can be called “upper scale” on the consumerist pecking order with the one benefit for me at having scores of hot suburban moms and or female professionals shopping there so they can easily obtain the organically grown veggies, freshly made sushi, and gourmet bottled water. Instead, with it being a very hot and sunny spring day it was crawling with people returning from boating on a nearby man-made lake called Lake Murray. This had the effect of increasing everyone’s frazzled nature and making my mission more complicated.

Part of the problem is always my fault, see even with a list I cannot just run into the store and buy what I need. The items written down never correspond to how the aisles are organized, I have to walk every lane picking up what I need and then crossing it off the list. That way I do not lose track and miss something on the list only to discover this fact after returning home. Never a good experience since the missing items usually is the linchpin in whatever my wife is cooking that day.

Exacerbating my shopping woes are my fellow customers who somehow instinctively know to block the exact section of an aisle I need to get at something. The other problem is my own ignorance, which gets in the way as I block sections myself trying to read my wife’s handwriting and decipher which size, brand, and variety of an item she wants. This issue is so bad at times that once I ran into one of my wife’s friends and asked her to read the list; she looked at it for several seconds, stifled a giggled, and handed the piece of paper back telling me good luck.

Somehow, I made do but not before dragging the grocery store staff into my tribulations when things get very bad. One trip had me searching for baking chocolate with me finding seven varieties but not the one written down on the list, not having a cell phone I borrowed the store phone and called my wife to get clarification. With further information, I dragged some hapless teenage stocker and eventually an equally unfortunate assistant manager into my epic search. Even the stockroom in back was explored and all three of us came to believe that form of baking chocolate simply did not exist. I thanked my new friends and walked away remembering the army gives campaign awards for similar efforts.

Getting back to my recent Saturday excursion, I flew through the aisles dodging the various customers like tumbling asteroids or alien space ships. In my head, I was imagining myself as some fighter jock blasting them with photon torpedoes and phasers if they got too close to my ship. For those blocking a section of a shelf where I needed to grab a particular can or bag I approached them like you would an unknown dog. I slowly came in from their front moving cautiously, while reaching for the product I wanted, with no sudden movements allowing time for me to penetrate their limited awareness. My main reason for this is my size and stature I have been likened several times to the old James Bond villain “Jaws” played by Richard Kiel. It is an unflattering comparison, to say the least, but I often think of those I live amongst as well-off proles so I just call it even.

As my task was drawing to a close, I had one last item on the list and it was simple, sour cream, this meant no long searches looking for it or debate about which type, it was going to be a quick flyby in the dairy aisle and I was gone. Doing warp speed down the rear of the grocery store, I honed in on the section where all the sour cream was stocked but immediately spotted a problem.

Being at least somewhat observant of those around me, I have discerned more than one type of customer who blocks sections of a grocery store aisle. The most common being the person on a cell phone who gets caught up in a conversation openly revealing intimate details of their lives while somehow becoming transfixed in time and space believing they are back home. Disturbing such people will get you an odd, surprised look or for those completely braindead a, “Do you mind, I’m on the phone,” response. Of course, I’m the type who is desperately trying to find an item but at least I’m conscious of those around me and do my best to limit the obstruction and even help someone like me.

The final species of aisle blocker is the type who literally seems overwhelmed with the choices they face. Such was the case with the lady blocking not only the sour cream but the cream cheese and cottage cheese sections of the dairy aisle. She was pushing one fully loaded shopping cart and pulling another, and as I approached, she was literally just staring off into space between the two.

It was beyond eerie, almost like she was a Stepford wife whose robot brain needed a reboot. After watching her for about a minute, I decided against trying to either disturb her fugue state or reach around her, the sour cream being smack in the middle of where she stood. The absolute last thing I needed was her returning to consciousness thinking I was trying to cop a feel. I drifted over to the magazine section and leafed through Scientific America, Popular Science, and the latest edition of Cosmopolitan since it had an article exclaiming “79 great positions guys want during sex but are afraid to ask.” Just FYI ladies, positions 9, 16, and 25 will pretty much keep us guys happy and positions 55 and 62 are just best left for the young with strong backs, us older guys cannot handle them.

I returned to the dairy section about five minutes later and saw that Stepford lady had moved a few feet but was now fixated on the brands of cheddar cheese. Not wanting to stay any longer, especially with a new wave of arriving customers flowing through the sliding doors I ventured closer knowing I would have to disturb the lady so I could pay for my stuff and leave. Shades of cantaloupe guy flashed through my head as I caught the lady mumbling about the various brands of cheddar. All told, I have to admit there were about twenty brands of cheddar cheese and I have to ask do we really need so many brands of freaking mild cheddar cheese? The same goes with shampoo, dog food, mouth wash, deodorant, and a thousand other brands of crap Madison Avenue has brainwashed us into believing add something special to our lives.

After snatching a container of generic sour cream, I rushed to the check out and left figuring I will return to late night shopping. Having to deal with the roving bands of consumerist drones is just too much for me, I would rather have the company of some loner talking basketball scores to the fruit, Hell I would rather talk with the fruit if you want to know the truth, they are probably more intelligent.