Grocery Stories

The grocery store isn't usually a place which makes for blog topics. But I've had a few experiences which have made pushing a cart with a janky wheel tolerable. Well more tolerable I guess. Two are recent and one I've brought up from the recesses of my brain.

Am I seeing myself 30 years in the future?
This particular shopping trip I was checking out at the counter when the bagger's name badge caught my eye. Aw, how cute. It identified him as Alex who had been working there for 1 year. It also had space for Alex to write his favorite food which was cheesecake. To which I almost wanted to say "You're precious Alex...thanks for sharing." As I turned my attention to the cashier I saw that her name was Rhonda (nice to meet you Rhonda) who had been a proud employee for 12 years (You go girl!). Then I looked to see what HER favorite food was.
Did she enjoy indulging in a nice porterhouse steak, maybe some fancy pasta dish, or take Alex's lead and point out her penchant for lemon meringue pie. No,no, and no. Rhonda chose...Vodka.

Am I seeing myself in 40 years?
On this particular excursion I was at the beer case making the all important decision: be frugal and buy a case of Keystone Light or put on my fancy pants and go with the Champaign of Beers: Miller High Life. Just as I was about to scream at the agony of my choices a lady struck up a conversation with me. "Tough to choose huh." Did she read my mind or something? Then she hulked a case of Budweiser into her cart. "This is my nerve medicine here." You said it sister. I chuckled appropriately. "But you know what?? These beers are 120 calories each!" I nodded and put on my best disgusted face. Those idiots at Anheuser Bush certainly aren't looking out for our health. Then my new friend slapped her ass and said "Haha...must be why I'm so fat!" and promptly pushed her cart off toward the cash registers.

I hope I wasn't like this 15 years ago
The day I moved into the dorm my freshman year of college my parents did the requisite grocery run to buy supplies. I'd have never made it through without all the peanut butter crackers they bought me (I lived on them my first two weeks because I was too homesick to eat normal food). As we were checking out a worn looking grandmother was tossing her shit onto the conveyor belt thingy while her equally bedraggled grandchildren sauntered up behind her. The boy (who looked somewhat like a deranged 5th grade ferret) was looking at the candy display. If you've ever been a child, you know that those displays are pretty dangerous because after being dragged through the store with your parents...you're expecting a damn packet of Chiclets at least. But this kid had his eye on a bag of Skittles, a Baby Ruth, some Tic-Tacs, and a Laffy Taffy. Greedy little bastard. His grandmother understandably said "NO" to which his head nearly exploded and/or spun around. He threw down his candy cache and screamed all turets-like: "Mother Fucker! I want some fucking candy!! Bitch!" Needless to say I assumed I was going to school in a town infested by the Children of the Corn and thus avoided the townie kids my entire 4 years.