The Mad Poller What Polls at Midnight (maeincarnate) wrote,
The Mad Poller What Polls at Midnight

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It's not just a grocery store, it's a Super Market.

There are two supermarkets right near my house. Both are small and insufficient for an in-depth shopping trip, and both are kind of dirty and tend to have old produce and nearly-expired milk. The Giant is particularly infuriating, since it is split into two buildings: one for the food and perishables, another for the pharmacy and other stuff that supermarkets tend to have. The aisles go every which way, some perpendicular to each other, others are really short, and it’s always packed full of people who must think it’s the only supermarket around to put up with it. Going in there is detrimental to my health, as my blood pressure rises whenever I even go near it.

As a result, I have been going to the Safeway that is across the parking lot. Smaller than the two halves of the Giant combined, at least it’s all together. It also tends to attract fewer of the yuppies and more of the, um, not-yuppies than the Giant does. It’s set up more like a normal supermarket and is generally less crowded.

But what seals the deal on that Safeway and what has made me decide to cement it as my go-to “just running in” supermarket is the staff. It’s always an adventure in there. Like when I run in there to use the Mac machine and get cigarettes before I go out: They keep the cigarettes behind the manager’s cage thing. The cashier will yell to the manager that they need a pack of Parliments, and the manger literally throws the cigarettes 20 feet to the cashier. Or how they yell jokes at each other over the loudspeaker.

Sunday some Mick, Dave, Keith, Carla and my brother came over to play Risk. I asked my brother if he’d cook breakfast for us and he said he would as long as I provided the food, so off to Safeway I went. I picked up bacon, eggs, chips, soda, the whole nine. I got a cashier that I had not had before but recognized him from another trip. What I noticed about him being in his line this time is that the man has a hook. That’s right. Peter-Pan and the Pirates Captain Hook hook. No hand. A hook. A very friendly hookhanded man, I might add. He chuckled with me about getting ready to watch football and let me scan a club card he had at the register even though I don’t have one. I was amazed at his dexterity with his one hand, since it appears that the hook is not used often. He managed to scan all of my stuff, put it all in the shopping cart, even slip the dozen eggs in their own bag all with one hand. I’m hooked.
Tags: the little things

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