"Watch your thoughts; they become words. Watch your words; they become actions. Watch your actions; they become habits. Watch your habits; they become character. Watch your character; it becomes your destiny." -- unknown

Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results - Albert Einstein

...supermarket...
2001-01-27 - 21:53:32

The first thing I encounter is 'hidden' shopping carts. I see an empty parking spot and head towards, happy I'm one step closer to getting in and out of this nightmare. But the spot isn't really empty, it's full of empty shopping carts. Is the concept of returning the carts to the cart return station that hard? Is the extra 100 feet to far to walk? Annoyed, I drive to the back of the lot. That place where no one likes to park 'cause it's a farther walk. It's not raining or overly cold, so it doenst bother me.

I grab a cart as I enter the store, hoping its not one of those demented carts with the squeaky wheel or broken wheel. Thankfully, the cart seems free from defects. The store is packed, well perhaps not packed, bur far more crowded than I prefer. I sigh as I head through the produce section, it's the extreme 'right' side of the store. Unattended carts litter the produce area, sometimes in the middle of the asile. It's like an obsticle course. I weave between the carts and fruit sniffing people. Is it that hard to leave your cart somewhere other than middle of the walkway? Why do you have to hold the fruit so close to your nose, it's hard to be sure it's not touching your nose? I seldom by fresh fruit, the idea of people grabbing, squeezing, sniffing and doing go know what else to something I'm going to eat bothers me. Call me squimish. I make it through produce relativly unscathed, but my annoyance is growing. I've grabbed some pre-cut salad lettuce and another packaged item or two.

My shopping method is extremly simple. I walk up and down the asile, every asile. I see something I want, I buy it. I don't see it, I don't buy it. I don't make a list or carry coupons. I know what I like to eat and I'm only shopping for me. The first asile is cluttered with mom's and kids. I feel bad for the moms. The kids dart here and there, with no idea how bad getting hit by a shopping cart would hurt. Silently I debate teaching this lesson, but I doubt the ensuing parental wrath is worth it. Stopping and weaving I make it through the asile. I don't fault the moms or dads who bring the kids. They have to and kids will be kids, still they get on my nervous. The whiny "BUY ME THIS!" ones are the worst. I don't think I'm alone in that opinion. The next asile is pretty much empty, but for a shopping cart, unattended, in the middle. I push my way towards it, going slower than normal, waiting for the owner to move the cart. I think it's a lady who is debating which type of coffee to purchase. I'm debating ramming the cart. As I get within a few feet of it, I cough. Not only is the cart in the middle, its at an angel, there really isn't to squeeze past it. While I want to reach out and move it, I think that's a bit rude and would prefer the owner of the cart to move it. She hears me cough and looks at me, as if annoyed a 'sick' person is in a public place and could be passing the illness. I shrug and reach for the cart to just nudge it alittle out of my way. She sees me reach for the cart and gives another dirty look and quickly grabs her cart, pulling it out of my way. Her look says, 'You just coughed on that hand and now you want to touch MY cart?' I don't have the heart to tell her they don't sanatize shopping carts and my coughed on hand probably less germs on it than a single square inch of the cart. I wonder if anyone has ever done a study about the germs found on shopping carts, a scary thought huh?

Onward I go. Stupid and annoying people abound. People stand in the middle of the asile, oblivious to the traffic jam they are causing. Carts litter the asiles like broken down cars on a snow covered highway. Some people offer apologies for blocking or moving slowly. Most don't, they seem unconcerned that the quest for prefect salsa is affecting people who just want to get by.

In the condiment area, a man and wife are shopping with thier kids. One of the kids, a little girl, sees a green bottle of ketchup and declares she wants it. Her mom says, 'no we have enough ketchup at home.' The girl replies, 'But this is green!' She has a point, I bet they have no green ketchup at home. The father hears this and becomes mystified. He takes the bottle of green ketchup and says several times, 'Ketchup isn't green.' He studies the bottle as if it were an artifact proving the existance of alien life on Earth. He looks around, as if appealing to everyone to the area to back him up. Staring at him, I blink and sigh. 'It's made with real tomatos, tomatos are red.' He says as his amazment grows. I've never seen somone so mystified by food coloring. Finally he sets it down and backs away, if it might explode. I'm thankful as they start to move onward. On coming traffic had prevented me from passing the family. As I pass the green ketchup I grab a bottle and see out of the corner of my eye the father looking back. He blinks at me, no doubt wondering what kinda freak I am. Actaully, I was just curious if it was plain ketchup or some kinda flavored kind. Seeing his glance, I smile and place the bottle in my cart.

Along the back of the store, are the 'bins' that hold the meat, chicken, cheese, yogurt, orange juice, ect. The refridgerated things. The space between the this back wall and the end of the aisles is pretty wide, 5 people can move without really worring about bumping into each other. I walk along the back wall, in the middlish area of the space. I pass the people who are trying to select food and thinking if I want any of this. As I try to recall if I need more chicken, I catch out of the corner of my eye a shopping cart in front of me. It's turned sideways. Why someone would leave a cart sideways, blocking the path of two people, is beyond me. It's bad enough they didnt leave the cart next to bins and out of the way of people who are walking.

The urge to ram this cart broadside bubbles up in mind. It would be most satisfying to do. I could mumble something about not seeing it and walk away. The cart is empty but for some nacho chips and 2 cups of yogurt. Nothing would be damaged and I'd feel much better. The whole vibe of the place is really getting me to. All the people so self-absorbed walking around. Common sens rules of curtsey are lost. It's like no one ever learned how to behave politly in such an environment. People stopping suddenly in front of you, or coming out of aisle, not looking or caring who they might hit and all the carts littering the store. It all just builds and makes me wonder what the gun control laws are for my state. I sigh and weave around the cart, I chickened out.

I finish getting all the things I want, in total I have about 40 bucks worth of food, and head toward the registers. I think this is often the worst part. I'm already annoyed with the store and people and now I have to wait in line to get out. I pick a line. My only real critera for this is that there is a bagger. I wait my turn and listen idly as a woman argues that something should cost $1.45 not $1.75 as it rang up. She insists it's on sale. The poor high school cashier really can't do much. I'm tempted to give the lady a dollar bill and settle things. Thankfully this is going on in the line over from mine. I know some people are short of money, but arguing over 35 cents seems a bit rediculious to me. I pay and thank both the bagger and cashier. Relief begins to fill me as I walk toward the door. I leave my cart inside and grab the five or six bags and walk to my car.

I could probably write volumes and volumes about people I see in supermarkets and the things they do. It's like when you walk through the door the average IQ falls 50 points, common sense is outlawed and self-absorbtion is mandated. If I ever do go crazy, I don't doubt it will be as I watch someone silently debate do they want 'normal italian' or 'zesty italian' dressing and block the aisle or I will come across one to many blocking carts. I'll ram it and the owner will yell and annoyance will bubble over into anger. Don't worry though, I'm pretty good at internalizing things and I don't own a gun.