Trader Joe's vs. Food Max

Right.  So, it's been awhile.  I can't come up with a really good reason why it's been so long ... uh, my dog ate my blog, my dog ate my notes ... my dog did eat my MYSTERY SPOT, SANTA CRUZ bumper sticker, but that's another story.

Today.

My love and I thrill in shopping at FOOD MAX.  It's full of people who are larger than life, in all that that implies, and there's no pretense.  Just people searching for cheese, or beer, or Cheetos, or, as today proved ... vodka.

I heard out of the corner of my ear, a woman's cry for help ... "which vodka do we choose?"

I couldn't help myself.

"Well," I said, "the shelves are arranged in order of quality ... lower shelf, lower quality ... luckily, you can get Smirnoff for $16.99.  That's a good price for THAT much vodka.  Yes, you can get an even higher quality (behind locked cabinet,) but that's a smaller bottle.  Also, cheaper means bitter taste,  bigger headache, and not a very good blend with other liquids ...

"Wow," the woman said, "I had no idea the liquor was arranged in order."

"Yes," I said, giving a mental thanks to my husband, who knows these things.

We had a nice conversation, and then we were on our separate ways.

The cashier was impressed by the organization of my purchases, and, talked of the 49ers (I'm fairly certain he did not mean the 19th century stewards of gold mining,) and asked if I found everything I desired.  Or words to that effect.

Trader Joe's.

I'd like to start by saying, the aisles are too narrow, the people who frequent the establishment, too full of themselves, and the shelf stockers, and cashiers, as well as those people previously mentioned, are too pre-occupied with the notion that they are intelligently superior because they know the difference between "less" and "fewer" ... if you have 15 items or "fewer" ... I think you know what I mean.

If you don't ... my tale will have no less meaning.  I hope.  I can only hope.

Today.

I suffered the same sense of claustrophobia. The aisles ARE too narrow.  I reached for the portobello mushroom pizzas my husband loves, and apologized for entering the space of a blonde woman occupied in thought over contemplation of ... I don't know actually ... but she didn't budge.  She backed away as if I had the plague, or bad breath, or both.  I grabbed my pizzas ... and moved on.

More of the same for the next 7.5 minutes ... and, then, I arrived at the designated check out area.

I contemplated the choice of checkout counters for awhile.  It's an important decision. The right cashier can make you feel valued, and the wrong cashier ... well ... I did have ... really ... fewer than 15 items, so, I went for it ...

One woman before me, checked out ... she never looked the cashier in the eye, but she did have her own shopping bags, and lots of lettuce ... I don't know what that means, but I noticed, so I mention it.

The small shelf that allows one to rest one's purchases pre actual purchase was not "out" far enough for me, but I placed my bag (full of my items) on the shelf, using my own body to hold it in place.  Very considerate, I thought.

Well.

The cashier scolded me (I don't use that word casually,) because I didn't have a basket. "This shelf doesn't work without a basket. You need a basket."  He grabbed one, nearly slammed it on the shelf, and, close to nearly, threw my bag into the basket.

I couldn't help myself.

"Thank you for correcting me.  And the next time I'm in your aisle, I'll be sure and not make that mistake again."

I bagged my own groceries.

I wanted to report him, but wondered if anyone at TJ's would give a crap.  But, my pups were waiting for me in my car ... and, would it make a difference ... and ...

I had had enough joy at Food Max to make up for TJ's.