A Saturday at Save Mart

Since getting married, I haven't spent a lot of time in a grocery store. Don't have to; Amy does all that stuff now. And that's fine by me. But to be sociable- or if it’s boring at home- I've occasionally gone along for the ride.

One of these times was this past Saturday. We'd been running errands and, as because I'm such a thoughtful guy (sometimes), I checked to see if there was anything else we needed to accomplish before heading home.

"Not unless you feel like going to the store with me".

Hmmm. Did I or didn't I? Was there a right answer, or one more right than the other? 

Actually, Amy doesn't operate that way. 'Yes' or 'No' without further elaboration will generally suffice and she'd be okay with either response; although because she asked, the desired answer should’ve been clear- since we’re already out I want to hit the market now.  But I tend to over think even the simplest of things so was briefly stuck for a response. Would the grocery store really be my first choice of places I wanted to be? Not typically. However, we were having a nice outing so I opted to go along.

“Sure, that'd be fine". And off we went to forage for food.

Once inside the teeming store I wanted to reconsider my answer. People were everywhere. Lines at the registers were backed up ten deep. I wanted out. I also wanted some caffeine. Perhaps it would take the edge off the unfolding tedium. Unfortunately the Save-Mart Starbucks kiosk I was counting on being there, wasn’t.

"Nah, they took that out a long time ago", Amy informed me.

Wow- it has been a long time since I've been here. No coffee. But maybe we can get some Red Bull. Quickly.  

Strolling past the crowded check-out lanes, I noticed the "12 Items or Less" line. But the guy in front was unloading at least twice that many things and was surely moments away from pissing off the two sign-obeying customers behind him. Some things never change, I guess.

But what really got my attention, since I’d drawn cart pushing duty, was how large the shopping carts have grown. That, or like a form of architectural arteriosclerosis, the aisles have dangerously narrowed. Either way, in the more popular rows, trying to push though and keep up with Amy was like negotiating freeway traffic at rush hour. 

On one aisle, several shoppers had stopped to browse in the same general vicinity, creating a bottleneck for anyone else looking to snake by. Between dodging their carts and avoiding the various standing displays- which ate up space every few feet- getting from one end of this row to the other was like trying to thread a boxcar though my living room and not knock anything over.

Then there was the sweet old lady doing her marketing in a Hover Round.

Since we were occupying the same aisle, I was continuously aware of her. But the poor thing never saw me and we accidentally collided at least twice. Geez, Louise, look out!  It was kind of like a game of slow moving bumper cars, except if I'd hit her with the tank I was pushing around she's lose. And if that happened, there'd be chaos and carnage everywhere. "Clean up on Aisle 7!"  

Fortunately no items or sexagenarians were spilled in the completion of this food run and I was able to escape with our three bags of stuff and my sanity still in once piece; a trifle agitated and annoyed, but none the worse for wear.

But now I know why I try and avoid going into the supermarket on Saturday afternoons.