I have been the grocery shopper for our household for some weeks now. I’ve been to all the outlets in the area and have no criticism of any of them.
However, I do have a favourite. It hasn’t got the largest selection, not the best parking lot, prices are not the reason for preferring to shop there nor is product freshness.
It does though have an atmosphere of friendliness, a sense that is prevalent once you walk into the store for just a little while. I’ve got to credit the checkout personnel and the shelf stockers for their wiliness to help.
Other shoppers are also helpful when tracking an item on your list you’re not familiar with. This is my favourite grocery store that we’ll refer to as B.
For example, a few weeks ago an elderly lady noticed my shoelace was untied. She pointed it out saying, “You wouldn’t want to trip over it, now would you?”
I tied my shoe up proficiently. The next visit I saw her near the asparagus again. Quick as a wink she commented that my shoes were tied properly.
I said, “It was thanks to you.” She liked that.
When ‘bring your own bags’ began, I would forget them at home, then I would forget them in the car and have to leave my groceries alone while I recovered them.
A couple of interesting things happened recently. On one shopping trip the bill came to exactly $100.
The clerk was reacting to this phenomena as if I had won a lottery and mentioning it to others around her. I didn’t have to but I paid it with a $100 bill and said ”Before I left home, Sheila told me not to over a hundred dollars.”
The whole encounter made me think of a perfect dice roll.
Scariest of all was losing a full basket of groceries. I had wondered about looking for bisquick when I realized my grocery cart was nowhere to be seen. Not panicking right then but I sure did after covering all aisles three times.
That’s when I told a stocker that my groceries had been either stolen or, “You put them in a room as if someone abandoned them.” He came back with, “We only do that if its been a couple of hours. Let’s look.”
It was only until he spotted one alone and suggested that might be it. I said I had left it in a different spot not to appear too discombobulated.
It was mine. I thanked him as I headed to the checkout with my eyes averted.
My sister called to say she had a problem that cropped up after shopping at B. She put her groceries away except for the frozen turkey that sat on the counter. It had unthawed and had to be cooked (Wednesday). She has bought another one in the meantime to keep for Easter.
Later today, she will be bringing more turkey over here than we can possibly eat to help use it up. That’s what I like about B. – it goes home with you.
You will never guess what happened next, my most recent trip. I was standing in the section where the frozen French Fries are kept when this woman came up to me with a scowl like President Trump’s lately and attempted to yank the cart from my tightening grip to save it from her.
“This is my cart,” she said vehemently. “You took it.” I said, “Look lady, this is my cart and I’m not giving it to you or anybody else.”
It was a typical Valley standoff – nobody giving an inch. She finally composed herself and said, “You had a cabbage in your basket. Is there one in this one?” I took a good look but no cabbage. Also, there were other strange items that I didn’t recognize.
She was right and I reacted too quickly. I apologized. We both started laughing at once at the absurdity of the mix-up. She wanted to go back and bring my cart to me but I wouldn’t let her. I said no, you might take my cabbage, laughing some more.
That example at B. is like most misunderstandings. A conflict is resolved and makes allies of shoppers who when they meet again, will exchange pleasantries.
