I love grocery shopping. I can't believe it's been more than two years since I first spoke in depth about just how much.
Since I just moved recently, I've been familiarizing myself with my environment, to include a new grocery store. To be honest, I don't like the grocery store near me at all, and it's one of the things that depresses me most about the new spot.(I won't go into the other things. Yet. Denial is still functioning at a really super high level.) It's a mostly shitty store. I judge them solely on produce - first impressions and all - and also, if you can't be bothered to make me a nice salad, I am simply not dealing with you. And since I've moved into a neighborhood that isn't at all wealthy, in fact skewing towards the lower end of the economic scale (at least until you hit the new, overpriced, "urban redevelopment" condos on the other side of the Route), I've noticed that the powers that be must think NO ONE HERE CARES ABOUT DECENT LETTUCE. It's environmental injustice at its worst, I think, because I've also moved into a really integrated town that skews more African American and Hispanic. I'm one of the few pushing-40 (oh dear GOD it's finally happening.) white women in the store, most of the time. Sometimes the only.
I'm also prone to deep conversations with clerks. And clearly, as my new favorite one indicated, I'm in the very small demographic of people who would actually buy certain unpalatable products on the shelves of her store. Herewith, an inaccurate transcription of my absolute very favorite conversation in recent recorded memory. It makes up for every person who's ever grunted "I'm fine" when I ask them how they're doing.
Me: Hello.
Her (I shamefully do not remember her name but next time I will.): Hey.
(Scan. Scan. Scan. Scan. Stopping at pickled tomatoes.)
Her: Uh, what are these?
Me: Pickled tomatoes.
Her: These are gross.
Me: No, not really. They're actually really good.
Her: I really don't think so. Look at them. They don't even look right. I thought they was potatoes. They don't even LOOK like tomatoes anymore. They look...WRONG.
Me: Er, actually, I was pretty happy to see you carried them at all. You can normally only get them in delis.
Her (Staring at me like this was a "What's Happenin'" episode, and she was Shirley and I was Rerun): Delis. Hmph. You like pickled things?
Me: Yeah, I do. I like...sour things. Olives. pickles. Gross tomatoes.
Her: I just think that's a bad idea. Like, where did you even FIND those?
Me: Back in the refrigerated section...with the other...umm....refrigerated pickles.
Her: Wow, I've just...I don't know. I've never seen them in here in my LIFE.
Me:Are you a picky eater?
Her: Nah. I just don't like things that look like that.
Me: Well you know, you've really made me think about this, but I think I'm going to have to take my chances. And I'll think about you every time I eat one of my delicious tomatoes.
Her: What?
Man Behind Me, to me: She didn't get it.
I laughed the whole way home.
Comments