Beer & Loathing in Supermarket Hell

I think there should be a special line at the supermarket for problematic customers. Anybody who remembers the Puppy Chow only after unloading their cart onto the conveyer, clearly doesn’t belong in the same line as me. The road to the register is a sacred place, man. It’s the light at the end of the tunnel. It’s the transitional point between pushing around a heavy shopping cart full of beer and going home and drinking a… shopping cart full of beer. Point is, if you have to run back to Aisle 3 for anything once you’re in line, whether it be Kool-Aid or extra-small condoms, you’re a prime candidate for lock-up in Retail Jail. Follow decorum or spend the afternoon locked inside the frozen fuckin’ broccoli closet with all the fruit-fondlers and turkey bowlers. And anybody who knows that their check won’t clear… or for that matter, anyone still writing checks 2000 plus years after the death of Christ needs to be excommunicated to the flunky lane along with all those suckers still buying video tapes and flash cubes for their fucking camera.

Meanwhile, I can assure Lady Alpo in front of me that the cashier does not need to waste valuable time discussing a customer’s avoidance of bran products. Unless your therapist is moonlighting at the local friggin’ Food-Hut, there is no reason to converse in depth with the grocery clerk. These people are there to wave noodle bags over the scanner and slide Cheez Whiz down to the bagger. For many, this is more than enough of a challenge. Cashiers are far too busy for asinine drivel and don’t get paid enough to multitask. Let’s let them focus on the task at hand so we can all move on to a more pleasant activity far the fuck away from the barcode jungle.

Oh, and let it be known to baggers everywhere that plastic is always fine. Don’t bother me with choices, they’ll only confuse me. This is the 21st century, though. We’ve killed enough fucking trees it’s a miracle we can still find a shady spot to loaf in while pretending to be at work. Paper bags are no more relevant than burlap friggin’ sacks. This ain’t Little House On The Fuckin’ Prairie over here. I’m not visiting a feed store where my purchase will be delivered via shovel. I won’t be carrying grain by the pound or a rack full of animal pelts any time soon, and I certainly don’t have a donkey tied to a post in the parking lot. Plastic should suit the bagging needs of anyone living in this century, which is pretty much everyone that I know. Bottom line: Paper bags are an impractical product of a bygone era. They don’t have handles, they don’t scoop shit well, and they’re far too difficult to suffocate in. And, of course, I realize plastic bags are effectively made from Iraqi blood but I refuse to politicize an issue of personal convenience.

Finally, cashiers need to stop telling me to press the green button as if I’m still in my third year of kindergarten. I slid the card, I can follow the prompts. I’m not a kid punching his busy box waiting for something to happen and I’m not crackin’ a fuckin’ safe here. And if I want cash back… I’ll just take it!

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3 Responses to Beer & Loathing in Supermarket Hell

  1. Chrissy says:

    Hahhaha. You forgot about the people that spend 10 minutes looking for the best deal on canned tuna while holding their cart perpendicular to the aisle – completely oblivious that they’ve created a traffic jam similar to ones that people in CA shoot each other over. Then, after a few polite,”Ahems” and “Excuse Mes” they look up with this surprised expression when you finally snap and scream, “Get the fuck out of the way!”. Yeah, I’m the asshole.

  2. Chrissy says:

    Oh, and I forgot to add – what’s so “super” about a supermarket anyway? Who coined this term, and when? (I see a research project in my future…lol)

    And why is there a dearth of them in poor sections of large cities across the US? (Sorry, that’s a separate rant about Republicans and Large Corporations making conscious decisions to not provide adequate food choices for minorities.( KFC it is, kids – die young, ’cause you’re not gonna’ vote for us anyway).

    I can go to a Walmart “Superstore” where I can purchase a head of cabbage and ammo for my AK-47 all in one convenient trip. (Not that I would ever do that….got to Walmart, that is) But somehow, we’ve exchanged “super” convenience for “super” aggravation.

    Bottom line – consumerism sucks and I hate the fact that our entire economy (GDP) is dependent on it.

    Fuck it. I’m moving to somewhere in Europe where I can gently stroll through “Not So Super” markets – the kind where the food is fresh and locally grown, and drink wine while I’m at it. 🙂

  3. Chrissy says:

    P.S. Thank you for “allowing” me to use your venue as a means to express myself. lol 🙂

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