There are reasons I don’t do my grocery shopping during the weekends, during the day, and now I can add – during the evening after work. I don’t like grocery store people. I may love you outside the grocery store. You may be my best friend outside the grocery store, but let me tell you something, Missy. The moment we enter those automatic doors and grab our carts you’ve just become Idiot Shopper #1.
I had to go to Meijer last night to get some last minute items for our party on Saturday. I needed less than 20 items. (Cost me nearly $90, too!) I ran across some of the most ignorant asshole shoppers EVER last night. Let me give you the rundown, shall we?
Idiot #1 – I get the need for safety when it comes to kids in the cart, but for GODS SAKE if Little Johnny won’t sit down you MAKE him sit down. Then you get your ass away from the cooler of shredded cheese so I can get my shit. Don’t stand there for a minute telling Little Johnny in a voice that has zero authority “You know Daddy can’t move until you sit. You need to sit down Little Johnny. Please sit down. I can’t move until you sit.” A minute may not be long to you, but when I’m in boots with a 4” heel and my feet hurt and I just want to get home, IT’S A LONG ASS TIME TO WAIT FOR LJ TO DECIDE TO FUCKING DO AS HE’S TOLD. Besides, if grocery store cart safety ranks so high up on your scale of importance – Why is LJ in the damn basket to begin with?! There are fucking seats built into the cart for a REASON.
Idiot #2 – Grandma’s got an attitude. I always make sure that no one is coming crosswise before entering the end of the isle. I don’t like being rammed by a cart and assume others don’t like it either. So when I come to the end of the isle and pause a moment to make sure the way is clear – it’s not a fucking green light for you to rush me, slam my cart into the end of the isle, and give me the dirty look. Fuck you, Grandma. I hope all your cakes and cookies from this point forward taste like sawdust.
Speaking of being rammed with a cart:
Idiot #3 – You may have all the time in the world in which to complete your shopping mission, Cell Phone Talker, but I do not. I don’t like grocery shopping on a good day; I detest it when I have to deal with those who are completely oblivious to their surroundings. If you must talk on your phone to Bitzy about Pookie’s new haircut, get the hell out of the center of the isle, do not walk as though you are blind and deaf, and for fucks sake, DON’T RUN IN TO MY ANKLES WITH YOUR CART! I will turn around and shove your cart back at your midsection with a force that will slice you in two.
For these reasons, as well as others not mentioned, my preferred hour in which to complete my grocery shopping is 10pm during the week. However, you run into oddballs then too. There are a surprising number of young mothers with toddlers out at that time.
These are also the reasons that the majority of my grocery shopping trips require a cocktail beforehand.
