I like to be organized and plan ahead. It must be something programmed in my genes because from my earliest remembrances I appreciated order. That is why I was recently surprised when it was an hour before my guests were to arrive that I found I didn’t have any crackers for the cheese I bought the day before. Waking up from a stupor of disbelief that I forgot something and didn’t plan accordingly, I began to process a slight feeling of panic. I figured if I had to go to the grocery store I might as well get ingredients for one more appetizer. Since I am there at least two times a week, I know where things are located in the grocery store probably better than some of the store’s own employees. With renewed confidence that I could get what I needed and get back home in time, I grabbed my purse and keys.
The town I live in is very small, only a few square miles in area which means if I want get groceries, I’ve got a six mile trek to the next town. The distance isn’t far, I know, but the fact I have got to travel through two downtowns is more like accepting a challenge on the American Gladiators show. As is always the case when I’m in a hurry, I got stuck behind the slowest driver on the road going seven miles below the speed limit. Determined not to get in a really bad mood just before my party, I sang a little song to calm my nerves. Miraculously, this worked and I even made the green light at the first intersection.
I usually write up a list of things I need before I go shopping because I get so easily distracted once I get in the store even when going there for only a few items. Since I didn’t have time to do this, I began continual mental repetition of the three things I needed: crackers, melon and prosciutto. I was focused until I got to the notorious parking lot where I was stopped by a little old lady, who could barely see over her steering wheel, backing out of a spot in order to straighten her car. It took her two attempts and it seemed like forever. During that eternity, I scanned the lot for open spaces and found one just around the corner. “Yes!!” I thought but in the last second of my glee a twenty-something guy in his sports car took my spot. I wanted to roll down my window and yell, “Hey Buddy, you should leave those close spots open for old people, parents with young kids or people in a hurry like ME!” I eventually found an open parking spot in the fifth row. I should have been happy as it was a Saturday; the peak grocery shopping time of the week and sometimes there are no spaces to park at all.
As I grabbed a basket at the store’s entrance I was blocked from getting in by two women: one wiping down her cart with the provided anti-bacterial wipes and the other perusing the store flyer. I began to feel the exasperation accompanied with hot blood climbing up my neck. I sympathized with the one woman as I am also a “germaphobe” and also wipe my cart down although I take a wipe and then move out of the way. The Flyer Woman clearly had forgotten she wasn’t the only person in the world and that other people needed to get into the store. What’s more, I thought, we are in the second decade of the new millennium where technology abounds – look up the sales flyer online!
I weaved my way through the produce area and picked up a cantaloupe melon on the way to the deli area and then I panicked. What was I supposed to buy? Oh no! I dwelled too long on the lack of common sense of Flyer Woman and now I forgot the two other things I was supposed to get. I looked at my phone to see how much time I had left before guest arrival: 30 minutes!! Nearby at the deli counter, the mom who was apparently deaf to the ear piercing screams of her child was not helping my absent-minded situation. I glanced around and saw the prosciutto. Ah, yes. That was it! I flung a package in my basket.
Now to get the crackers which are located on the other side of the store. As I attempted to speed walk, I got stuck in a double-block trap. You may be wondering what in the world a double-block trap is but I can assure you that if you have been grocery shopping, you have encountered the DBT. This is where a person puts their cart on one side of the aisle and then stands on the other side so that no one can get by. I cleared my throat in case she didn’t see me but the woman did not budge, remaining completely engrossed in the nutrition label of a salsa jar. “Excuse me,” I said. She still didn’t move. “EXCUSE ME!” I raised my voice so I was certain she and everyone in the aisle could hear me. I received her acknowledgement through a look as if I was the one being rude. “Whatever! I don’t have time for this nonsense,” I thought. I continued on my way, putting it into fifth gear as I rounded the corner. I got to the shelves with the crackers and executed a technique worthy of a competitor in a shopping spree; without stopping I grabbed the large assortment box and continued my speed lap to the cashiers. As I cruised down the sparsely populated paper goods aisle, I spotted a man earnestly digging for gold, the kind that is found in the nose, while entranced by packages of Ziploc bags.
Since I only had three items in my basket, I headed straight for cashier number one, the express checkout, while I laughed to myself at everyone else with their full carts waiting in long lines. I shouldn’t have laughed because as luck would have it, there was an old man who had thirteen items in the ten item line. The cashier scanned and bagged the items with great efficiency and totaled everything up. “Twenty three, ninety seven,” she said. It took the man ten seconds to comprehend the money needed and slowly took out his wallet. With shaky hands, he pulled out a few coupons. I began to perspire with impatience and bit my lower lip with thoughts of “why me?” running through my head. I began to quietly hum. “Twenty two, forty seven,” the cashier said. He pulled out each bill with great deliberation and then searched his pockets for the forty seven cents. I looked at the time on my phone. I had twenty minutes.
When it was my turn, the transaction seemed to take less than a minute. I even passed the old man, who was previously in front of me at the register, at the exit door. I made my way to my car feeling I was back in control of the situation; seventeen minutes and counting. This time I didn’t get behind a slow driver but I was stopped by every red light on the way home. I surrendered to the fact I had a good chance of getting home after my first guest arrived. As I began to wonder what was the worst thing that could happen if I was late getting home, calmness blanketed me. Time seemed to slow and almost halt. Before I knew it, I was walking through my front door with four minutes to spare. My doorbell rang and two guests arrived. “How about some prosciutto with melon?” I asked with secret delight. “No thanks,” was the reply. “I’ll just have a glass of water.”
Although this story was inspired by true situations, it is fictitious. All characters in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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