Part 2…Building Aggression in the Produce Aisle

And now for part two of my errand running adventure…Trader Joe’s. I’ll start with the good part. I did not have to wait on line. Any of you who shop at Trader Joe’s in Manhattan know how ridiculously long the lines can get. I remember some pretty horrendous lines from my time in San Diego as well. So, the fact that I did not have to wait on line was a hugely exciting thing for me. No one was in line. Not one person. I walked to the front and was immediately directed to an open register. (Let me bask in this folks, I will probably never have a repeat experience of this.)

Now, do not be fooled into thinking the store was empty simply because there was no line, quite the opposite. Trader Joe’s was packed. It was packed with the over 80, declining health and mind crowd. It was senior day at Trader Joe’s and I missed the memo. These were not the spry old folks who bustle about on a Tuesday afternoon gathering their groceries for the week. These were the scooter riding, walker pushing, cane-toting crowd. The moving slower than molasses crowd. The crowd that stands in the middle of an aisle for eternity trying to decided between package one of crackers and package two of crackers (both of the exact same size, shape, and variety). Sure one could pass by if they were not taking up the entirety of the aisles with their carts, scooters, and walkers. Plus, to accidentally brush against or bump into one of these folks could have detrimental effects given their wobbly stances and brittle bones. There was the incident when I said, “Excuse me,” in the hopes of being able to pass by one particular shopper who had gotten on my last nerve and was begin to fray it beyond recognition. By the time I got any response I was shouting at the top of my lungs. Apparently the hearing aid had been left at home. Her ability to feel sound vibrations seemed to still be intact at least.

Then there was the need to monopolize all employee attention. Parking directly in front of an entire display or smack dab in the middle of a refrigerated segment they would ask questions ad nauseam of these poor employees. Never mind that I may need to get to something behind the cart and scooter/walker. Never mind that I may actually need to ask a question in regards to something other than the products being blocked. Social hour should not take place in front of the produce and consist of asking a million and one questions about ravioli. If you have one foot in the grave already it doesn’t matter if the cheese ravioli has more sodium than the pumpkin. Eat what you like and be thankful you’re still alive at this point in the game. While I do hope to one day be old I do hope that I do not reach the level of senility I was witness to at Trader Joe’s.


About djunapassman

I teach yoga, write, and edit. I live in a Brooklyn neighborhood that is changing faster than I can, or care to, keep up with. Manhattan still beckons me to her island a few subways stops away, reminding me of when I lived amongst her daily hustle and bustle.
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