SHOPPING HELL

Once upon a time I enjoyed grocery shopping. I would meet my neighbors in the frozen food aisle where we would swap recipes and eagerly spread the latest gossip on who was sleeping with whom. Now it can be downright scary.

First we have sticker shock:

Rising gas prices and the winter freeze have left me literally gasping for air. They want how much for that head of lettuce?! Do they really think I’d take out a second mortgage just to have a freakin’ salad?! Unfortunately, my shrieks of horrified disbelief have resulted in an unruly mob of angry customers forming at the customer service desk, shouting, “Hell no, we won’t pay.” Their protests usually end when the police storm in wearing riot gear. I’ve been trespassed from several stores. Go figure.

The hit and run drivers:

You thought it was bad on the highways? Think again. You take your life in your hands just to buy a few frozen dinners. These kamikaze types use their carts as lethal weapons. Some are too busy texting to watch where they are going, while others run you down to get to that last overripe tomato. Look buddy, do you really think I want to spend three bucks on one squishy tomato?

The ruthless retirees:

Retirees make Navy S.E.A.L.S. look like pussy cats. Just get out of their way or lose a few fingers and toes. They consider other shoppers speed bumps. Bleeding and moaning loudly will not slow them down. Just roll out of their path and dial 9-1-1. Believe me nothing stands in their way to get to the buffet at the Golden Corral on time. Be prepared to have them cut in front of you at the checkout lane. If you protest, they just act like they can’t hear you. Any snide remarks about the two bottles of wine and jumbo box of condoms they broke speed records to buy usually ends with their walker crushing your toes, accidentally, of course.

Clean up on aisle three:

Okay, I’ll admit it. I sometime lose control of my cart. I didn’t see that enormous display of canned green beans, until I ran into it. No, I was NOT texting. The broken bottle of prune juice wasn’t my fault either. The horny old guy goosed me as I was reaching for it. Really. Would I lie to you?

The checkout lane:

Standing in the checkout line for twenty minutes or longer allows you to browse all the current magazine and keep updated on the latest Hollywood gossip without paying a dime. The cashier had my sympathy as she waited an eternity for an elderly lady dressed like Britney Spears to write one freakin’ check. I mean c’mon, has Granny ever heard of a debit card?

The frazzled mother of two screaming children in front of me had enough food in her cart to feed a small country for a week. Her little darlings continually hurled half eaten pretzels at me. Who needs sex education classes? Just force students to stand in line and listen to their ear-piercing caterwauling and presto! Abstinence suddenly becomes a terrific idea.

Check out line Lotharios:

Still waiting for Granny to finish writing her check, I had suddenly had a Darth Vader clone breathing down my neck. He was so close I could actually feel his breath on my hair and good God what was that smell? I took a hasty glance over my shoulder and almost gagged. The guy was in serious need of a good dentist. I edged forward and the next thing I knew his sweaty, hairy body is pressed against me. Aw c’mon, we aren’t even dating yet. Ducking an incoming pretzel, I accidentally hit Vader in the groin area with my basket. Yowling, he staggered back and knocked over that dang green bean display again. The manager gave me the evil eye as he rushed to help Vader.
Lucky me another lothario took his place. He smiled at me and pointed at my box on tampons on conveyor belt. “Those any good?” I was a bit taken aback but nodded. “If the pretty lady says there good, I’ll have to give them a try.” Now that’s something I’d pay good money to see.