Saturday, February 12, 2011

Food shopping hell

I remember the days when I thought going to the supermarket in my CAR, wheeling the trolley around the UNCROWDED aisles of Adelaide, having a conversation with the checkout dude/chick while THEY PACKED MY BAGS and then hopping back in my CAR to drive home was a drag. Oh, how I miss those days. How wrong I was to take this miracle for granted, for no one knows pure food shopping EVIL until they've come with me.

Weekend food shopping makes me never want to leave my house again. Weekend after weekend of food shopping makes L and I swear we'll never do it again. Yet we go back for more because we're suckers and because home delivery is for special occasions. Well, you know what, life is a special occasion and we're ruining ours with this weekly rage. You're probably thinking I'm over reacting but I'm really not. Our local shopping centre is probably the most ethnically diverse in the world. While this makes the place interesting and great for going out to eat, it also means we've got the most ethnically diverse walkers in the world. Just getting to the entrance of the supermarket means having to dodge the Asian shufflers (slow), Caribbean strutters (slow), Polish wanders (slow), Turkish grannies (extremely slow), Kurdish young families (no self awareness and slow) amongst the various teenage mums with their 3 snotty kids. Then, once you get in the supermarket, it's pretty much at full capacity. Everyone blocks the aisles with their trolleys. No one lets you through and when they do, you'll get glared at like you're in their way. After you've dodged various future criminals, you have the pleasure of lining up for an obscene amount of time, largely due to the fact you always choose the lane where the person two in front is arguing over the price of a £1 bag of frozen potato gems. When you get to the checkout, the girl there will most probably ignore you because your presence is a massive inconvenience while she's trying to flirt with Deshawn over at the next till.

However getting home is probably the most pleasurable. Between the two of you, you'll have a whole weeks worth of food that you're carrying in backpacks and also in bags. Because no one else has a car, everyone is waiting at the same bus stop trying to get on the same buses as you are. If you keep a hold of your bags, you'll lose all feeling in your hands. If you put them down on the pavement, some lady will run over them with her wheelie bag while trying to get in front of you in the line for the bus or some little shit will reverse into your eggs with their bike. When you finally get on the bus, it'll be packed and you won't be able to hold on because some fat kid whose parents don't bother teaching him manners will lean against the pole so your fingers can't wrap around it. Or, you'll have some crazy ass lady kissing her teeth at you because she wants you to move. The trouble is, there's no space to go anywhere. This however, is not her problem and she will continue to mutter under her breath until you get off. For ten hellish minutes, you'll be stuck in the doorway, teeth kisser one way, fat kid the other and from behind, someone's bag in your back. When the doors open, they do so inwards, so if you put your bags down, they get squashed by the doors if they're not picked up in time. You'll end up getting off and on the bus four times because of these fucking doors. Then you'll get home and swear you'll never do that shit again and write a blog entry to remember how bad it was.