The Least Favorite Things File: Grocery Shopping

My husband contends that in our marriage vows, if he knew “for better or worse” meant having to grocery shop with me, he might have bailed on the whole thing. He’s right. I HATE to grocery shop.

My mother LOVED to grocery shop. To her, it was a social outing. She had her three favorite stores. She would see her friends there. She knew store managers, checkers, sackers and specialty department managers. They knew her and were all happy to see her coming. Not just because she was spending money in their stores, but she was kind to them. She appreciated their jobs and what they provided. Oh yes – and because at Christmas, she baked goodies for them.

I’m really a kind person – but it’s a different world out there now. To me, grocery shopping is not an event – it’s a chore. And it’s usually a big chunk of paycheck, even with coupons. Why is it a chore? Because of the people I usually encounter when I embark on a shopping trip.

Bad Drivers 1 – Outside. These folks can’t seem to notice that the lines on the parking spaces are slanted at a direction completely opposite of the direction they’re driving. And no, you cannot “whip” that Suburban into the space from the wrong direction. These are also the drivers who apparently don’t understand the meaning of “crosswalk.”

Cross Walkers. Not only do these people take as much time as possible to navigate the crosswalk, but they do it at the longest diagonal line they can manage. No straight shot across for them – no. They have to be in the path of vehicles for the longest amount of time they can muster. Kids, cell phones, loose shoe strap, lack of equilibrium – whatever it takes to stay in the way.

Bad Drivers 2 – Inside. Now we’re in the store, behind the cart. C’mon people, it’s America – treat the aisle like a road and drive on the right. Don’t stop, leave your cart in the middle of the aisle, and go back 15 feet to grab the Nutter Butters. Would you leave your vehicle on Westheimer Road while you went back to grab a soda at Valero?

Deli-Tasters. How many samples of ham can you taste? Do you REALLY not know the difference between gouda and pepper jack cheese? If you’d like lunch, hit the drive-through at Mickey D’s. And speaking of McDonald’s…

Out-of-Control Kids. Take your kids to the Playland. I know you’d like to tire them out for their nap, but please CONTROL YOUR CHILDREN. The only reason you should allow them to run up and down every aisle without your supervision is if your retirement plan includes a corporate lawsuit against the store when they crash into an end-aisle display. And thanks for loading up four of them – along with a full basket of items - on one of those carts made to look like a car. You usually can’t steer it and you’re in everyone’s way.

Coupon Perusers. I’m a coupon-a-holic. But I’m an organized one, ready to go with list and coupons in hand. Nothing is more fun than the person on the busiest aisle…wad of coupons (or worse, flyers with uncut coupons) in hand…thumbing through the ones that aren’t being dropped on the floor…then bending and chasing them all around the aisle. You can double the fun if you add bored spouses, an impatient mother-in-law or kids to this equation.

People Who Can’t Count Their Items. The sign says “15 Items or LESS.” Did you fail Sesame Street? (And it's "fewer" by the way.)

Clueless Sackers. Do they give bonus points to sackers for constantly chatting with fellow sackers? For putting the can of V8 on top of my bread? For bagging the leaky bleach cleaner bottle in the same sack with the dry pet food? For lobbing the easily-bruised tomatoes and apples to the side in search of a new sack? For wedging the piece of chocolate-iced cake down the side of the cart so the icing will stick to the top of the container? Bonus points like that should get you a vacation!

Cart Dumpers. Thank you so much for leaving your empty shopping cart in the empty parking space. Not only does it prevent someone from parking their vehicle there, but it enables the wind to propel the cart into the side of my car door.

And everyone needs a door ding to remind them of their fun trip to the grocery store, don’t they? Cha-CHING.