Observations in Miniature: People in the Grocery Store II

If you see yourself amongst these people it might be time to change your shopping habits.

Foreign Guy - You still don’t get American grocery stores do you? What’s in you cart? Unfiltered Camels , Pepsi, some weird vegetable that looks like a shrub, frozen king crab legs? What the Hell are you going to do? Go home and feed your pet llama and walrus? You’re eating like you’re shopping in the bazaar in Iran for God’s sake. Food isn’t rationed here. Just look at all the fat people. Go back and load up on frozen pizzas and processed meats. And let me direct you to the shaving section so you can trim that five foot long mountain goat beard and while we‘re at it we‘ll drop by the deodorant aisle. You smell like you’re aging Blue Cheese under your armpits.

Pet Fanatic - Twelve pounds of cat litter. Check. Two ten pound bags of bird seed. Check. A twenty pound bag of peanuts for the squirrels. Check. Thirty-seven cans of Fancy Feast. Check. One six ounce cup of yogurt. Check. Wait a second where the Hell is the people food? What the fuck are you going to eat? Do you corral kittens into pet carriers and beef them up like veal then slaughter them and eat them in a tangy a yogurt sauce? This is what I am forced to deduce from the paltry amount of human food in your cart. And what the fuck is that on your shoulder? Is that macaw shit? That’s cool you carry your pet bird around on your shoulder but you’d better go hose down after you’re done. And do you purposely fill your purse with cat litter? Because it looks like one of your babies drop a kibble bomb on your organizer. It’s great that you love animals but what separates us from them is our ability to use soap and take showers. Get it? There’s enough cat hair on your sweater to knit a hat, scarf, and mittens for your niece. Please take a lint brush to yourself before you go out in public again.

The Weeble Family - Choo Choo. Look out here comes the Weeble family wobbling down the aisle with their train of overflowing carts. Are you even looking at what you’re throwing into your cart? Do you really need a ten gallon jar of pickle relish? Buying in bulk is acceptable when you’re preparing for a family reunion or if you run an orphanage but for God’s sake there’s only four people in your family and although their combined weight is equal to that of a mid-size SUV they will certainly survive without a gross of Mrs. Paul’s fish sticks. And a request to all things holy please stay away from the snack cake aisle. I think your son just dove into a display of Little Debbie Snack Cakes. Yes, there he is I saw his chocolate covered face come up for a breath and then he dove back into a heap of Twinkies. Is he backstroking through a shelf full of moon pies? You’re family has a problem and it has nothing to do with their pituitary glands. You simply eat too fucking much. That’s why you’ve spent a third of your life at the grocery store, a third of your life eating, and a third of your life reading tabloid newspapers on your reinforced toilet. Put back the groceries in two of those carts and you’ll subsist quite well on the remaining cart for a month or two.

The Wanderer (thanks Lori)- Did you do the brown acid at Woodstock? I’m almost done with my shopping and I keep passing you going the wrong way and in addition to causing traffic jams, which you are largely oblivious to, you seem to be standing in front of every damn item I want to buy. You stand there with this perplexed look on your face reading every piece of fine print on a jar of spaghetti sauce. There’s nothing in there but tomatoes, some salt and garlic. You’re not reading the Odyssey for God’s sake. Keep moving. You’ve been here for two hours and how many things do you have in your cart? Two? Here’s an idea. It’s going to be radical and might takes some time to adjust to but why not make a FUCKING GROCERY LIST! That way you won’t be wandering around for hours. And fill your damn cart up so you don’t have to come back every day. Grocery shopping is not Chess, there is no complicated strategy, except to buy fucking groceries. Sound simple? It is. Carry on.

Angry Cashier - Hi, how are you? Nothing. Why were you talking to the lady in front of me but now you won’t even talk to me? Did you just punch a hole through my box of Nutrigrain? Your anger is misplaced. I’m not “the man.” In fact I never even met “the man,” so please don’t throw my eggs. In case you haven’t noticed they don’t bounce. No, I don’t mind bagging my own groceries. Do you mind if I go out in the parking lot and let the air out of your tires? I don’t care if you’re a bitch on your own time but you work in a service industry and are paid to pretend you like me so we can complete our transaction in peace. So unclench the fists, lose the frown. That’s it. Feel better? No? Well, then fucking pretend.