So uh, I went grocery shopping for the first time the other day. Like actually grocery shopping. No one was with me. I wasn’t 11 years old picking out cereal to put in the cart that mom was going to pay for in the end. Real grocery shopping. On my own. For me. With my money. (Am I getting the idea across?)
Anyway, I gotta tell ya. That was easily one of the most uncomfortable experiences of my life.
Before I even got there I could tell it was going to be a strange experience. Because first off, the Wal-mart I went to has a bi level parking garage. And I haven’t seen a Wal-mart like that — ever! So I park my car up top, get out of my red sports car, dressed in all black, flashy tie… on Saturday.
Now for those who know me. I don’t need to tell you that I am no stranger to being stared at. My dress of choice is not exactly conventional. But I find it’s a lot easier to look that way when you either: A) Are at a club where everyone looks like that. Or B) When you have a man next to you that could easily win any fight with nothing but inertia as both a defense and a weapon. So when I got in there by myself, looking the way I did, and on the weekend none the less — I stood out a little. And it was most uncomfortable. But I quickly got past being the only single guy sans children in the whole store. Well at least the only single guy in the store who wasn’t buying beer or in the auto department. Or buying beer in the auto department.
So I get half way up the aisles, grabbing a few staple food items which I have no doubt I could get to blindfolded, and realize that I am not going to be able to carry the ever increasing food item count. Well now I’m pretty much screwed. Until — Wait! I remember! I recall seeing a device specifically for that purpose. But what was it? And more importantly, where was it?
“Excuse, me ma’am. But uh, what is that there rolly-basket thingy you’re pushing around? And where can I find one?”
Ok. Got my rolly-basket. The woman I talked to called it a ‘cart’ but the name just didn’t seem to fit. Last I recall, you raced ‘carts’ on an indoor track. And these rolly-baskets were not it. She was clearly mistaken.
So by the miracle of engineering I can now push with me whatever I can’t carry.
“… Now what?”
This should have been the easy part. But being on a fast food diet for the last n years has fogged my memory on what you normal people eat. “Alright, what do I buy?” While pondering the question I was having the internal soliloquy to myself that I am almost certain everyone else has had during their first true grocery trip. You know which one I’m talking about. It’s different for everyone. Mine went something like this:
“Ok, Jeffrey. Remember back when you were a kid, and you always thought, “If I could buy the food I would totally get like 10,000 of _______.”
– Damn it. Was was it? I must have loved it. How could I forget? Now’s my chance. It’s my money. I’m pushing the rolly-basket. The power is all mine and I don’t know what to do with it!
It was a very intense inner moment.
So after almost two hours of sporadically weaving up the aisles with what I imagine was a demeanor that looked akin to the inquisitive puppy dog head tilt, I finally made it to the check out line. I heavily sensed a few of the other shoppers saw right through me.
My suspicions were confirmed when I started putting my items onto the conveyor belt and an exceptional woman behind me says, “You must be single.”
I knew I was making an ass out of myself as it was. But I was trying to deduce how she picked out my being single just by the items on the conveyor. So I quickly scanned across my items to see what tipped her off. Nothing seemed too telling. So I said, “Yeah, I am. How did you guess that?”
Without missing a beat, she replied, “Because you’re ugly.”
Yep. Good times.
