Grocery Store Shoppers

Grocery Store Shoppers

I catch, shoot, snare, grow and raise as much of my food as I can, but I do buy things from the grocery store too.  After all, I can’t grow orange juice, HP sauce, dish soap or toilet paper…  And, every now and then I just gotta pound down some “wicked-hot” chicken wings.  And, I rather like shopping at the grocery store.  Most times.

I believe there is a certain “grocery store shopping etiquette” that we must understand before entering the store, especially if it’s a busy one.  I’ll start off with a few basics, ones we all must abide by.

Rule one:  Don’t leave your cart in the middle of the aisle when you go to look at something or pick something out to include with your purchase.   Hey, Einstein, you’re blocking the goddam aisle!  Park your cart out of the way as best as you can.

Rule two:  Don’t stand in the way and have a social gathering with your friends.  If you decide to schedule your annual family reunion, don’t book it at the grocery store.  Go to the local picnic grounds.  Or, better yet, go to Aunt Edna’s place.  She’d love to have you and she makes the best apple pie ever.

Rule three:  Don’t reach in front of someone.  That’s just plain rude.  Have an ounce of patience and wait your turn.  If you walk closely by someone offer a good old fashioned, seldom-heard-these-days, “Excuse me.”

Rule four:  Don’t run your cart into the back of the heels of the guy in front of you especially if that guy is me!  Jesus goddam CHRIST!

I will now continue with some random “rules of engagement” for the trip to the grocery store.  This next part concerns kids.  Little kids.  Teach them to keep their filthy “just finished picking their nose” hands out of the bulk food bins!  If you would like your kids to have some candies, buy them.   When my kids were little they never, ever put their hands in the bulk food bins.  Why?  Simple.  On the way in to the store I told them not to.  So, they didn’t.  Holy shit, I must be a goddam genius!  Hey, maybe I’ll write a book on “How-to-Parenting, 101.”

Here’s another suggestion for parents with young children.  Please understand that the aisles of a grocery store (or any store) were not intended to be a playground.  If you can’t keep control over your kids, put them on a goddam leash.  Or, better still, call a babysitter and leave your precious little brats at home.

Next on my list, we go to the fresh produce section… oh my.  A few weeks ago I was at one of our local grocers and there was a woman rummaging through the tomatoes.  Rummaging would be an understatement.  She was actually going through them one by one and tossing the less desirable specimens to the side.  Tossing them.  Not moving them gently, but throwing them around causing far more bruising than what was present before she stuck her greasy paws in there.   I said to her, “Ever wonder why they’re all bruised?”  She must have been a real cement-head because she had no idea I was being a smart-ass.  She shook her head in disgust and returned with, “I guess they get good deals on lousy tomatoes from the supplier.”

There should be some kind of rule that requires people to wash their hands before handling the fruits and vegetables.  There must be some way of doing this.  About a year ago I was in the fresh produce section when I began to feel “the urge.”  I had to pee.  So I went to the washroom.  While I was standing at the urinal I was treated to the enlightening sounds of the most disgusting “man dump” of all time.  Even worse than some of mine, ones that I actually remember.  (You know it’s a bad shit when you can still remember it years later.)  I’m telling you it sounded like the guy’s intestines fell into the toilet.  I could go on, but I think (actually, I know) you get the picture.

After finishing my duty (and after almost throwing up in the urinal because other than my audio senses being richly stimulated, there was of course, the smell)  I went over to the sink to wash my hands and with any luck, my short-term memory.  Then, the guy exited the stall.  Somehow, without any noticeable signs of physical distress, he was able to walk after flushing what I swear were his intestines down the toilet.  Amazing really.  He was some grubby piece of shit that looked like he was in a biker gang or something.  So, I politely moved over to allow additional sink room so he could wash his hands and hopefully, his arms.  Guess what?  Correct.  He didn’t wash his hands or his arms.  He just horked up a loogy (spelling?) about the size of a golf ball and spit it into the garbage can on the way out the door.  I must give him full marks for the loogy because after all, it did go into the garbage can.  I heard it land with a thud.

Three minutes later (and after washing my hands, arms, neck, legs, and as much of my memory as was possible without involving a brain surgeon) I was back in the fresh produce section.  And, so was “Mr. Intestine and Huge Loogy Man.”  Yep.  There he was by golly, rummaging through the tomatoes and the cucumbers and the green peppers and the broccoli and the apples.  Lovely.  I actually put my stuff back and left the store.  Holy shit, I nearly hurled on the way out.

Ah yes, the check-out line.   Now, I’m not one of these people who counts the number of items in other people’s carts to see if they’re over the 12 item limit for the express line.  I couldn’t care less.  Besides, I’m not five… Instead, I wait for other people to count the number of items in my cart…  But, here’s one thing I always do but I can only remember someone returning the favour once.  If I have a fairly big load in my cart and the person behind has just a few things, I send ‘em through.  Why not?  It won’t kill you to let someone in ahead of you.  Life will go on.  (Note to all single men.  This is a great tactic for meeting “chicks.”)

Hey, man, let’s help out our senior citizens!  It drives me nuts to see an elderly person (or disabled person) who is struggling with his or her cart, or can’t reach something or can’t lift that 20 pound bag of potatoes into their cart.  Use your head all you able people!  (Note to all single men.  This could also be a great way to meet “chicks.”  No, no, not the sweet little old lady you are helping, but maybe… her possibly hot daughter, or – granddaughter!)

Now, to the parking lot we go.  If my truck ever got a scratch on it, it would only add to the ones that are already there.  My vehicle is what I consider a “utility vehicle” so I don’t care about the odd scratch here or there.  But, some people do!  If someone has a car that would not be considered “utility” they won’t appreciate your out of control shopping cart rolling across the parking lot.  Put your cart away you lazy asshole!  And, not just in the grocery store parking lot, but in all parking lots.

Sometimes I wish I could figure out a way how to grow orange juice, HP sauce, dish soap and toilet paper.

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