I am not a huge fan of grocery shopping. I used to really enjoy it when I was spending my mom’s money, but times have changed.
The closest grocery store to us is 2 miles away. I go there a lot and regret it 98.759% of the time. I never consider myself to be high class, but in there I am definitely upper crust. The employees of this particular Food City are really nice and they work hard. I can’t say as much about the clientele. Other things I can’t say: they smell good, dress nice, and have mastered simple grammar.
I have reasoned with myself on the last couple of outings that if I went to a “swankier” supermarket I might not hate it so bad. The Food City by the mall meets this criteria. Now, this store is probably only 5 miles from our house, but What. A. Difference.
A couple of weeks ago, after spending the (usual) outrageous amount of money on consumables, the bag boy asked me if I would like help out to the car. My memory makes me believe it was kind of noisy in there, but either way, I answered him with a question. “Do you wanna go out?”
BB: Do I wanna go out? (Looks me up and down, confused, possibly insulted)
Me: Yeah, I mean, I used to work in a grocery store and I liked getting outside once in a while. So if you do…
BB: (mumbling) go out?
Me: Yes! Help me out to my car! (For Pete’s sake, am I that hideous?)
BB: Oh, ok.
Aside … one of the first times I got groceries in my new car, I popped my trunk from my key chain a few feet away. The kid was impressed and told me something to the effect of me having a “nice ride”.
Me: Ok. It’s this gray one next to the cart return. (Popping trunk from 10 yards away, trying to save face)
BB: My mom has a car like this.
When it comes to groceries I just can’t win.