I used to love grocery shopping. I loved wandering the aisles, mulling over the products and musing about food. I would take my time, thinking up new ways to use produce and being inspired with new recipes.
Not any more.
Now I’m the ninja assassin of supermarket shopping. I have a detailed, itemised list. It is divided into sections and those sections are in the order of the aisles of my local supermarket. I am in, I’m slamming stuff into the trolley, and I am out. I go when it’s quiet, I skip the aisles I don’t need and above all, I stay calm.
I need to stay calm due to situations like these: The Aisle Block.
|Look at me here waiting patiently while old ladies make a 14-point checklist of pros and cons between the homebrand glace fruit mix and the non.|
Now in no way am I blaming this dear, sweet old man, who was actually trying to get past himself, but was thwarted on all sides by the woman in front who left her trolley on one side of the aisle while conducting a deep search-and-retrieve mission on the other. His darling little socks and neatly brushed hair were killing me, and when I saw his trolley contained carefully-placed canned soup and shredded wheatmeal biscuits, I just about cried. In fact, I’m still on the verge! I’d blame pregnancy hormones, but let’s face it, I’m a complete sook anyway.
No, my beef rests squarely with the inconsiderate shopper. They make what has already become an unpleasant chore into an exercise in extreme self-control and turn-the-other-cheekness. Why are you taking up the whole aisle? Why do you insist on almost ramming your trolley into the backs of my heels? Are you that ignorant of other people that we don’t register on your radar from the second you walk through those automatic doors?
Praise be to thee who is always generally aware of his surroundings, and the fact that other people may also need to get to the Tim Tams. You see they may get lost in the moment of whether to get double-coat or caramel, or should they abandon the whole mission in favour of the Mint Slices, but something makes them look up and quickly swing their trolleys out of the way. You are safe from my wrath.
Then there’s the two-abreasters. One has the trolley, the other I’ve no idea what you’re doing there. Moral support, perhaps. Well, did you know you can provide such support from either behind or in front of your trolley-mate? That it isn’t vitally necessary to walk directly next to said trolley-mate when other people are trying to get past? In fact, you’d be even closer to the shelved goods of which you’re trying to purchase. And I wouldn’t have to consistently make room for you, when you barely give me the time of day. This may or may not relate to the murderous rage I feel when walking down a footpath into an oncoming couple and I always am the one to get out of the way, lurching into the gutter, getting smacked in the face with tree branches, all because walking single-file momentarily to allow everyone a piece of cement to walk on is just too much to ask. I know it’s fun to watch the pregnant woman attempt to engage her non-existent stomach muscles to wrestle her heavy trolley aside to avoid smacking you in the shins, but you’re burden-free! Get out of my way for once!
I also believe if you’re moving from an aisle into a main throroughfare, at least look before you barge out, unwieldy-metal-trolley-first into oncoming traffic. Sure my reflexes are such that I’ll probably get out of your way, but where’s the consideration? You ain’t the only one in this supermarket, dollface.
So what do you think? – should a supermarket be every man for himself? Or should simple awareness of others and a bit of consideration be mandatory?