You didn't actually think I grew my own food, did you? Have you ever met me? I don't have the patience to pick produce - much less grow it. I have less patience than Charlie Sheen at a massage parlor.
I bought one of those upside-down planters, but that's another story for another blog.
Anyway, this article is about the oddest place I go on a daily basis...the SUPERMARKET.
First of all, I'm almost 42 and don't know what the proper title is; grocery store, food store, supermarket, market, food market...what's the protocol? Most people these days just punt and say the name of the store. It's more confusing than the new Afghan Constitution. You have READ it, right? I mean, you paid for it, you might as well have a copy.
Now let's talk about parking. The parking lot used to be so simple back in the days of Duran Duran, $2.00 per gallon gas, and the Soviet Union - you know, when Gerry Brown was California Governor and...what...he WHAT?! They did WHAT! Oh, well...anyway...back to the parking lot. When I was a kid, you got out of your car, walked into the store - and shopped. How about that?
No, no, no...not so fast. You're not a consumer anymore, you're also an EMPLOYEE! Go to the "cart corral" and get your wagon, then bring it to the store. By the way, the handy cart corrals remove 4 spots from the parking area. They take up more space than Roseanne Barr sitting in her daughters chair on back to school night. They've also taken up an additional 4 (yes...FOUR!) for the new "fast lane", whereby people place their grocery orders online, then just drive through to get their groceries. Huh? What? We're doing that online, too? Pretty soon you won't have to leave the couch for anything! You can get your Playstation to spit out a grilled cheese, then download your Lipitor later on.
Finally, you make it to the curb. Go inside? Are you Pine Nuts?!? First you have to dodge the seasonal flower displays, lawn furniture, smoking employees (ignoring you), windshield cleaning fluid, rock salt/ice melter, plastic bag recycling center, hand sanitizer, cart disinfecting wipes and make it through the automatic door. By the way, is there a longer period of time in the world than when you realize you've walked across the pressure mat and are standing 2 micrometers from the door (which says DO NOT ENTER) - and when you go off the mat and through the correct door? It's more embarrassing than being the only one who didn't know it was Daylight Saving Time...in the WHOLE COUNTRY.
Finally inside, and to the produce section...since the "good stuff" is all WAYYYYY in the back. Or, should I say the "who eats this garbage?" section. Star fruit? Jicama? Stalks of sugar cane? Citron? I need to inform the manager that cucumbers don't really need 3/4 of an inch of wax. Those things have more wax than alley 6 at the Waukegan, Illinois Roll-a-Bowl. I know it's winter, but I'm not spending $6 for a package of strawberries no matter where they're from. Have you noticed that you can NEVER buy the right number of bananas? They usually spoil in the car on the way home from the store. Even if you are lucky to get them home, by morning they turn darker than Dick Cheney's soul and stink up the joint. We don't need 17 different kinds of tomatoes, for G-DS SAKE! Vine ripened, grape, hot house (whatever that means), plum , greenhouse, heirloom, cherry, ugli, tomatillo, yellow, AUGGGGHHHH!!! That brings up the worst offenders...apples - you know the drill: Red delicious, golden delicious, mcintosh, braeburn, pink lady, honeycrisp, cameo, cortland, empire, fuji, granny smith, gala, rome...I sort of envy the Cubans who don't have to worry about variety. Ok, maybe totalitarianism is not the best trade off for produce convenience, but still...Oh, one more nugget from the produce department...WASH THE LETTUCE...EVEN IF IT CAME IN A PRE-CUT YUPPIE BAG. I've known people from Honduras that pick that stuff. Trust me. Wash it. Wash it all. Twice.
On to the deli counter! I'm beginning to think this will be a several part blog series...too much going on at the ol' market. In years gone by, there was a number-taker thingee (not an industry term) which would let us all know who's next. Not anymore. I have no idea why, but I suspect someone could get a PhD in sociology watching the people at the deli counter give the "I think I'm next but avoid confrontation like AC Cowlings driving a white Ford Bronco on the LA Freeway" look. So some brave soul steps forward. The clerk (innocently) asks "What would you like"? "Ham", he says. HAM! HAM! Are you serious? That's it? HAM!
Clerk (C) : What kind of ham?
Clueless Customer (CC) : What do you have?
C :Domestic, spiced, cured, aged, sugar cured, honey, low sodium, black forest, fat free (huh?), Genoa, chopped -
CC : Domestic
C : What brand?
CC : What do you have?
C : D&W, Kunzler, Esskay, House, Boars Head -
CC : What's on sale?
C : House
CC : Is it good?
C : Yes.
CC : Ok, I'll take that (obviously due to the clever sales pitch)
C : How much?
CC : How 'bout a half pound? (Why be assertive now, right?)
C : Works for me. (I still don't know what that means)
Hey, Mr. Hawking...did you happen to notice the fact that the entire deli counter is encased in GLASS! GLASS! You had 6 minutes to put down your Droid and pick out your sliced flesh...but did you? NO! You waited with all the intensity and drive of a tenured, union member motor vehicle counter clerk on Zoloft 4 minutes before a liberal leave day.
And, by the way - that ham isn't on sale because they like you. It's the worst garbage they had too much of (heh, heh, heh).
Next entry - Meat/Poultry/Seafood and Health & Beauty aids!
You see, it's not all politics.
Remember, better to curse the candle than light the darkness.
Peas,
J
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