Until I am full-time employed, I live in the suburbs at my parent’s house. This month they happened to be on a trip so I am here to fend for myself in terms of being fed. Throughout the week I collected flyers of the nearby supermarkets and circled items on sale. My parents had always gone grocery shopping on the weekend, so I thought it would be plausible to do the same. However, I discovered it is one of the worst things ever.
People forget how to drive shopping carts. It’s like all the people who drive in rush hour on a weekday some how congregated into the same supermarket. There is no order whatsoever. You just go whenever the path is clear. If ever. The only exception seems to be the organic food aisle. Have you seen the prices? It’s no wonder nobody goes down there. The worst offenders of shopping cart mayhem seem to be senile old people who seem to yell at you from every direction. I like to pretend that they probably drive like this too.
There’s more of a chance of running into somebody you know. I ran into the parent’s of one of the kids I used to teach. It was a pleasant encounter except for the fact I was trying to stock up on 5 packs of bacon. It makes things awkward when their cart consists of vegetables and organic cereals. Way to make me feel guilty. Not of my own eating habits of course, just that I’m the mockery of theirs.
It’s survival of the fittest. Why do you need 10 jugs of orange juice? I only wanted one for my sister. If you want to get any sales item, you must get there first. Run. And if you came to an empty rack, glare at the person who has a mountain on their cart.
The lines are like the ones at Disney World. Forget express lanes. People on weekends don’t know how to count. Hey dude in front of me you clearly have more than 10 items. I’m only trying to buy these two tomatoes. Again, you also get the senile old people and the people who pretend they don’t know English (and therefore the sign) who cut in front of you. This makes going to multiple stores for sales a pain in the ass.
If you’re a weekly weekend shopper, I tip my imaginary hat to you. You must be a trooper. As for me, I think I will avoid this trip for a more subdued time of week.