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Grocery Wars

I actually really like food shopping.  I'm lucky enough to only work half-time, so I can spend some quality time cruising around looking for new ideas and ingredients without feeling like I got trapped into doing chores all weekend.

Some days, however, it is more trying than others.

The guy stacking limes was perfectly nice to me when needed him to move over and when I managed to knock over his careful work (only a few, but so embarrassing!)   I suppose this should mitigate the fact that his colleague at the seafood counter was so unpleasant, but really, it only made it more galling.

When I said I was interested in the the salmon burgers, he immediately sighed, “Which ones?” as if I had perhaps not noticed that they had three varieties.  And I'm sure this does happen, but since he had been cleaning the glass and needed to get back around the counter before he could he reach any of  'em, I was was just trying to be patient and polite.

Particularly because I had a question, since only two kinds were labeled.  But when I asked what kind the ones in the middle were, he snapped, “There's no sign.” 

Riiiight.  I got that.  Kind of why I asked.

But he did seem almost honestly mystified about what I could possibly expect him to do next and they looked really good, so I smiled and said, I'll be adventurous and take those, and he said again, in a tone that clearly implied I was being difficult,  “WHICH ones?”

The kind I have cheerily accepted your refusal to identify, buddy.  Those kind.

Then, once he was wrapping them, I realized he was not paying attention to the fact that they were on special and so I was not going to get my “buy 2, get 1” free without forcing the issue.

And, despite the fact that it will blow the top of my baby's head off when she reads this, I just let it go, because he was obviously going to be belligerent about it and I Could. Not.  Deal.  This, of course, immediately set off the whole fun cycle of feeling stupid and ashamed, because, really, why not?  I'm a big girl, I should be able to open my mouth.


And then I had to negotiate the check-out challenge.  Many, even most, folks are fine, but then there are always the ones who get testy and suspicious when I want them to use all 3 bags I've brought with me, when clearly I only need two.

Dude.  You can keep the extra nickel.  This is a metro Whole Foods.  I am spending what some would consider to be stupid money on these groceries.  Do you really think this is about saving fifteen cents?

This is about hauling my glass bottles/jars of olive oil and the pickles I couldn't resist (1) and cans of refried black beans and serious poundage in fresh corn and melon and peppers and tomatoes on and off the T, not to mention up 3 flights of stairs.   And getting there with my bread and eggs intact and without my yogurt going all 'splody (yes, this has actually happened.)

Days like today, I just let 'em do whatever, and then reconfigure it all myself before leaving the premises.

Double ugh.

But there's a long weekend ahead and I've got some new recipes I wanna try and my yummy, heavy spoils and I beat the (really quite impressive) thunderstorm back to the house.  So, overall, still a win.


(1)   I was looking for plain old bread and butter and found these, made with ginger and dried cherries and just had to have 'em.