A Tale of Two Grocers

So, I went to the grocery store yesterday....actually, two grocery stores.  One was a local chain, the other was whole foods.  There is a whole heirarchy of grocery stores in this town, and I'm sure every town.  Each one has its own flavor, each one has its own unique clientele.  And I learned the hard way that I wish we had grocery delivery in this town:

Interaction #1 in large soulless corporate grocery store:

Bank employee....correction, Grocery Store Branch Bank Employee: "Excuse me sir, can I interest you in....hey, do you go to UW[isconsin]? I recognize you from somewhere."  Me: "Ummm, nope" GSBBE: "Really? you look really familiar."  And then a three minute conversation ensued and the next thing I know, I'm writing my cell phone number on the back of HIS card.  What the hell?!?!  Either I'm in for a big surprise or I'll have a low interest loan in the near future....either way, I lose. 

Interaction #2 in large soulless hippy grocery store:

I'm minding my own business in the cookies and cracker aisle.  I had finally found the organic fig bars [....don't even ask....] and was pushing my cart down the aisle.  This guy with an armload of groceries is looking high and low for something.  I push my cart forward and he tries to look through my cart anxiously.  So I ask cheerily "Can I help you find something?".  He looks at me at says almost instantly "I'm not gay."  Awesome.  Silence.  I stare...I blink...then openly laugh at him and walk away.  God, bless the idiots most of all.

[however, I do realize that I just gave my phone number out to a guy at the previous store....maybe I'm sending crossed signals?  Gotta stop wearing the "I love cock" t-shirt]

[editor's note: I was going to name the post "Brokeback Grocers" but I'm tired of reference to that movie.  Also, what the hell is Wal Mart's problem that they refuse to sell that movie?  Their idiocy makes me weary]

 

Links:

Though I know it's unlikely that we are going to Bodrum, my dad (happy birthday!) sent me this article about this Turkish coastal town.  Also, articles about Istanbul and Istanbul and Istanbul.  This not only means that my dad has figured out how to log-in to the nytimes archives, but he can cut and paste now, too!  Way to go.  Soon he'll have a blog, probably named "My asshole son: You're so vain, I'll bet you think this blog is about you, don't you?"   [He likes Anne Murray, it used to kill us on road trips....just torture]