Aisle #2 at the Grocery Store

This is a work of fiction. Almost. (See the end for a full list of truths).

Sunday morning. 8:15 am at Whole Foods. An employee takes a step in my direction and says, “Only 60 and over until 9 am.”

I respond, “Will my AARP card get me in?” 

“Only if your over 60.” 

“You mean I have to call in my husband to do the shopping?”

He nods and says, “Unless you want to wait until 9 am.”

Back in the car, I call home. My husband is still in his pajamas, sipping coffee, watching Meet the Press. “Sorry honey, you got to get down here and do the shopping. They won’t let me in.”

I sit in the parking lot awaiting arrival of husband to hand over to him the shopping list, bags, and the shopping cart I spent time thoroughly sanitizing. I spot a friend and apprise her of the over 60 hours. We chat for a bit, then when husband arrives, I hand over the essentials, glance at my watch, and wonder to myself, “Hmm, maybe I should just wait it out in the parking lot until I can go in at 9 and help him.” 

Fifteen minutes later, husband calls with a question about my list – something about produce. 

My mind says, “WHAT, you’re 15 minutes into this and you’re still in the produce department? There’s a line of younger-than-60 people stacking up outside, ready to come in the store in 10minutes. Get moving!!!”

But calmly, I respond, “Oh, you’re still in produce?” I then provide him with any answer and let him know I’ll be in the store in a couple of minutes.

As the minutes tick away, and I watch the line outside getting longer, I pray that he’s almost finished. When the store finally opens at 9 for the under 60 crowd, I rush in. I immediately make my way through the store in search of him, glancing down each aisle as I pass. Not spotting him anywhere, I take one of the last aisles to the back of the store, and I see him. . . At THE END of THE FIRST AISLE! – Yes, 30 minutes in, the first aisle – and I see him pondering over which butter to buy.

My mind says, “This is as far as you got? Just grab the butter be done with it.”

Instead I respond with, “Yes, the one in your hand is perfect.”

At this point, now that I’m in the store and allowed in to shop, I want to send him home. His over 60 advantage is now useless, and frankly, he is slowing me down. During my ‘normal’ weekly shopping, I don’t browse, I grab and go each item on my shopping list, and I’m in and out of the store in less than 30 minutes – shopping for a family of six.

My mind is saying, “Just go home! You’re slowing me down and the line for the meat counter is 6-deep already — I’ll finish this up.” 

I don’t say anything, because I don’t want to get in an argument here in Aisle #2 at Whole Foods. After all, I did drag him away from his Sunday morning coffee and Meet the Press ritual. 

I then swoop in, try to access where he is in the process, and come up with a game plan. 

For the next 15 minutes, we begin a very inefficient dance of trying to get everything on my list. I watch him as we try to work through this together. He’s back and forth, leaving the cart in the middle of aisle, disappearing to find something. Clearly, he’s not familiar with this, as he rarely has the task of the weekly shopping.

Frustrated with our slow progress, I suggest we review the shopping list and once again reassess our needs.

We separate for a moment, and I find myself stuck in an aisle getting pretty annoyed. A 30-something man with a shopping list in his hand, is searching for an item. He is bouncing from one side of the aisle to the next in search of that item. Of course, I know what I want, but with his zig zagging, I’m worried about getting body checked by him. 

I ask him, “What are you looking for?”

He looks up at me with a surprise on his face that says, “Are you really talking to me right now? We’re supposed to be social distancing.”

But instead he responds with a question mark, “Tahini?”

In my mind, I say, “What woman sends her husband, who clearly isn’t at ease with this shopping process, in search of tahini at a time like this? At least the list I sent my husband in with included easy-to-find apples.

Instead, I praise him for being in the correct aisle, then gently describe what the bottle would look like, and then assure him there is none on the shelf.

Around the corner comes my husband with the shopping cart. He looks as if he’s lost. I direct him to the end of the aisle for a bit of regrouping. We check the list again.

My frantic mind is thinking, “You stand here with the cart, I’ll get the remaining items, I know exactly where there at, and can retrieve all remaining items in 30 seconds, even though I have to back to aisle #2 ONCE AGAIN!!!!” (At this time, I’m feeling pretty confident that I’d do fabulously well on the show Supermarket Sweep!)

Instead, I respond, “You grab the ketchup and jelly, they’re in aisle #2,” I’ll get the cheese, lunchmeat and tortillas.”

Upon returning to our overfilled cart, my husband is trying to carefully stack 3 gallons of ice cream precariously on top of our mound of food. 

In my mind I say, “Hey, I didn’t send you to get ice cream. As you can see, we already have ice cream in the cart. AND, if you ever looked in the freezer, its already jam-packed!”

Instead I respond with, “Hey, I already grabbed some ice cream for the family. There’s Butter Pecan in there for you, honey.” 

Defeated, he returns the 3 gallons of ice cream to the freezer. (Apologies to the other shoppers for touching the ice cream without buying it).

We agree that our shopping is complete, and head off to get in line. When it’s our turn, I take to bagging items, as I always do, and start seeing plastic bag after plastic bag filled with vegetables, couscous, and fruit. 

In my mind I say, “What’s with all these plastic bags?????? Didn’t you see the 17 cloth bags I have in the cart just for this? Do you know how long it will take that plastic bag to decompose? 10 to 20 years – you’ll be 80!”

I don’t say anything. 

We pack the bags in the cart and head out to the parking lot where we load up the van.

“I’ll see you in a few minutes,” I say. (remember, we’re in 2 cars)

In his mind he says, “Nope, I’m going to Rite Aid,” as he pecks me on the cheek.

****

I’ve been home for almost an hour –I’ve brought the bags up to the house, put the food away, enjoyed another cup of coffee, and I’m sitting at the kitchen writing this. 

My mind says, “Where is he? I left While Foods ages ago.”

My phone rings, and it’s him. “Do you need anything from Rite Aid?” 

In my mind I say, “Weren’t you were with me at Walgreens yesterday? We went over the list of everything the family needed, while standing in Aisle #2!”

I take a deep breath, and say, “No, I don’t need anything else. I’ll see you soon.”

In his mind he chuckles, “Nope. I’m headed to Safeway to find some bread flour.”

The truths of this story: 

I did arrive early to the store and couldn’t get in. 

I had to call my husband to get in early. I joined him at 9.

He was watching Meet the Press.

There was a man looking for tahini, and I helped him.

My husband couldn’t decipher my list because it was my chicken scratch. 

We used a lot of plastic bags for fruits and vegetables.

He did go to Rite Aid – and Safeway – and the other Whole Foods in town.

I’m sure I’d win Supermarket Sweep.