Supermarket automatic doors open for me; therefore, I am.
I never make a trip to the United States without visiting a supermarket. To me they are more fascinating than any fashion salon.
One of the good things about getting older is that I don't have to shop for groceries at peak hours anymore. I can go shortly after the store opens, when the produce is at its freshest, and the bread rolls are still untouched. In the early morning hours, there are far fewer customers, and the employees are not yet bad-tempered, but are only on grimace-mode in preparation for the day.
The worst part about shopping early is the traffic getting to the store. I used to get to work at least half an hour before most stores open, and thus beat the rush hour. But supermarkets in this city open the same time as schools and banks do, and traffic at 7:30 AM is heavy. However, I'm in no rush, so I listen to the radio and have ample time to hear all the bad news that's going on.
The best part about shopping early is that I take down the average age of the shoppers by about 10 years. Maybe more if it's a Sunday. I'm not used to being the youngest person anywhere anymore.
Everyone in the store seems to move more slowly; there's no hurry to pick up the kids from kindergarten, no urgent need to get back to the office with the cookies for the meeting. (Of course, most shoppers at this hour do not have the ability to hurry. Remember I'm 10 years younger.) People dawdle over the tomatoes and cucumbers, they poke the melons, prod the avocadoes. The fast-food aisle is almost entirely clear, but in the fresh meat section, couples bicker over chicken thighs (no Sam! those are too small, I'll need to buy twice as many!). Over in the dairy, while their wives are choosing milk and eggs, men open and try to smell the cottage cheese, forgetting that the cottage cheese containers, for YEARS now, have a thin plastic covering under the lid to prevent old men from trying to sniff the cottage cheese.
Because the store is not crowded, it makes it easier, apparently, to leave your buggy on the diagonal, taking up the maximum amount of room in any given space. I haven't figured that one out yet. Nonetheless, or perhaps because of it, people are very possessive of their buggies. If I move one, parked on the diagonal, so as to get by, I am glared at as if I were trying to steal their puppy. Or worse, their oranges. I usually just nudge the buggy aside with my own vehicle, say sorry sorry sorry as I pass (my Old Country upbringing coming in handy at this point), and continue on my merry way. I wait my turn to get to the pasta and watch while a woman carefully compares prices and shifts bags about before committing herself to a particular shape.
Though no longer mandatory, many of the shoppers wear masks. I can understand this; Covid-19 is still making its rounds, and most of the clientele is in the 'at-risk' category. I, myself, still wear a mask in a crowded place such as a bus. What I don't understand, and have not understood for three years now, is wearing a mask under one's nose, as about 95% of the mask-wearers in the supermarket do. I mean, do they STILL not get it? Apparently not.
Another thing, if I'm already on the topic, about older shoppers—they stand really close to you. I don't know why this happens, but early morning shoppers tend not to wait until you've finished selecting your yoghurts, but stand on the same floor tile as you, reach across your stomach and grab the butter. With their masks under their noses. When that happens, it's MY turn to glare. At check-out, they don't leave a space between my purchases and theirs. Either they honestly think that they are saving GOBS of time by not leaving a five-centimeter gap between my cornflakes and their dishwashing liquid, or they are hoping I'll end up paying for their stuff. I've never had the courage to ask. But I've got glaring down to a science.
Most of my kids no longer live with me, yet I shop as if they do. I buy too many bananas. One woman is carefully choosing her three carrots and two apples as I hoist seven kg of potatoes and four bottles of oil (they're on sale!) into my cart. I wonder if I'll ever get used to buying less than I think I need.
Probably not.
But the leisurely strolling through a supermarket with no whiny kids, no time limit, no crowds? I can get used to this.
3 comments:
I really enjoyed reading this blog. I relate to it so much.
I've noticed that if I get to the supermarket when it opens, they haven't put the fresh fruit out yet (or are only beginning), and invariably the fruit I need is at the bottom of the cart. They haven't adopted the "stock shelves overnight" idea yet, which means the stockers' carts are going to be in my way. I find it's better to arrive an hour or two after opening time to try to avoid this.
Love this!!!!
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