5 Reasons Why I Will Never Take My Kids To The Grocery Store. (Ever Again.)

I had to go to the grocery store today. A practice  I usually try to avoid on a Saturday afternoon, while my husband is at work and I am left to my own devices in dealing with the kids. We needed cat litter. There was just no way around it. I had to go. For some unknown reason, my kids love the deli food. I figured that would be how I bribe them. “If you are good, you get to pick out whatever kind of deli food you want.”

Yeah right. That lasted a whopping 45 seconds.

So I give to you 5 Reasons Why I Will Never Take My Kids To The Grocery Store. (Ever Again.)

1. I will spend more money. I will buy them the 4.00 box of cookies (cookies that are not even on my list!) just to keep them occupied while I make my way to the cat litter aisle.

2. I will somehow get injured. I figured my 10 year old could push the cart. It would (hopefully) keep her occupied, make her feel as if she has a very important job to do. This only works if I bypass the toy and candy aisle , while making my way to the kitty litter aisle.. Otherwise she will get distracted and ram the cart into my heel. Having a grocery cart rammed into your heel is right up there in pain wise as stepping on a lego.

3. I will waste a lot of time. What should be a quick 20 minute trip, has turned into an hour and twenty minutes. I mean why must we spend 10 minutes just deciding on a juice?!? I have cat litter that I need to buy!

4. I will get embarrassed. One would think by the ages of my kids, I am passed the stage of “getting embarrassed.”  Nope! When my kid decides to do a cartwheel in the frozen food aisle and her shoes come flying off her feet and slams into the Ben and Jerry’s ice cream case, heck yeah I get embarrassed. Plus, I love this particular store. I would also love to not get kicked out of it. Especially before I have a chance to buy my much needed cat litter.

5. I will forget to buy something that is on my list. You know, like the cat litter.

grocery store blog

My Saturday from the brinks of Hell

So this is my first ever blog post for 2015. How fitting that all I am going to do in this blog post is complain about my day.

My day started off by a visit to my landlord. It is time to renew the lease. For some stupid reason that remains unclear to me I am not allowed to renew my lease until I have proof of renters insurance. Not just proof mind you, but my ridiculous apartment complex wants to have themselves listed as a policy holder. Okay, fine, whatever. I spoke with my renters insurance company and they assured me they sent a fax to my landlord. Which brings me to my visit today. I go to the office. It’s pretty busy, but that’s okay, not a problem. When it is my turn, I explain to the girl with the too big of hair and too much makeup who is walking around in hooker boots the situation. I gently let her know that they should have a fax and I would like to go ahead and schedule my appointment to renew my lease so I am not charged on a month to month basis.  She is smiling and nodding and saying “Uh huh, yeah, okay, okay, sounds good.”  in that pitchy, whiny, high shrilled voice that would drive anyone mad,  and quite frankly I am feeling as if she is rushing me. I finish talking and she says to me “Sounds good, just come back when we have the fax.”

Idiot.

“Look, I can see your busy here but I feel you are trying to blow me off, the fax should be here. Can you at least pretend to go look for it?”

A few minutes later after pretending to look something up ON THE COMPUTER, she tells me they do not have the fax. Whatever, I am older and wiser than this little cupcake. I go home, open my email, print out the letter from my renters insurance company that clearly states they sent the fax in, and take it back to Little Miss Cupcake. All I get in return was “Oh, look at that, we must have missed it.” Yeah, you think?!

Now it is time for my son and I to head to The Commons Mall to do an exchange on shoes. After spending 10 minutes looking for a parking space (seriously, I thought the holiday rush was over with?) We make our way inside. Except for some reason my son feels the need to walk about five feet behind me. Did I mention he is 13? Okay, I get it, but funny how he does not mind being “seen” with me when we grab at quick bite at the food court.

We decide on the Gyro shop. This place is good, authentic Greek food run by a husband and wife team, both who are Greek, obviously. We place our order, stand off to the side sipping our drinks as we wait for our food. At this time a young black lady approaches the counter and places her order. Next thing we hear, the husband, in his very thick Greek accent talks to this lady.

Greek~ May I ask serious question?

Lady~ Sure!

Greek~ No want to offend, I serious.

at this point my son and I are looking at each other, knowing that when someone says “I do not want to offend” then in about two seconds, they will say something offensive.

Lady~ Sure, go ahead!

Greek~ Why do black people only order Sprite?

My son and I are now choking  on our drinks.

Lady~ Ummm, well I cannot speak for all black people, but I order Sprite because there is no caffeine.

Greek~ Good, good to know.

Alrighty then. Moving on.

I drop my son off at home and make my way to the grocery store. I already know what you are thinking. I am asking for any trouble that comes to find me at the grocery store. No one in their right mind will go to the grocery store on a Saturday afternoon. Except me, and the entire suburb of Federal Way.

Let the record show I usually do my grocery shopping on Wednesday mornings because everyone is usually at school or work. I had no idea pure craziness exists on Saturday mornings at the grocery store. Clearly I have been spoiled, and after today I will never ever again go to the grocery store on Saturday.

So I am in the very crowded coffee aisle. I desperately need my  8 o’clock dark french roast coffee, but there is another lady looking at the coffee. So I politely move my cart out-of-the-way and patiently wait for her to make her selection. When all of a sudden this crazy elderly gentleman points his finger at me and SCREAMS “You, you over there, you, you need to move, you are in my way.”

I innocently look around and then it clicked, this fool is talking to me. “I am sorry sir, but I need to be over there, that is why I am waiting here.”

“That’s lovely, but I need where you are standing, move.”

and now I am at my limit.

“Sir, if you do not mind me saying so, you are old enough to be my grandfather, which tells me you should know what a simple please and thank you mean, all you had to say was excuse me Miss, may I get behind you.” I once again politely move my cart out-of-the-way, but not before the original coffee lady looked and me with a big ol smile and said “Good for you.”

Really? What is wrong with people?!?

And, it’s not over yet. After I make my two hundred-dollar grocery purchase, I head over to customer service to get a money order. This one tops the list.

Me~ Do you do money orders?

Cashier~ Yes we do.

Me~ Great, I need one for 1,032.94

Cashier~ You have to buy something first.

Me~ Yeah, I just did (shows her my receipt)

Cashier~ I mean you have to buy something here, ask for cash back, and then with the cash that is how I do the money order.

Me~ Are you freakin kidding me right now?

Cashier~ No mam, look, you can buy this 25 cent truffle and ask for cash back.

Long story short, I am now missing 100.00 because I think she charged me about five times too much.

After all of that, I finally come home with intent to relax, log onto Facebook and see a half naked picture of MY MOTHER!!

That was my day. I have to wonder if these people who I encountered today have a Facebook, what would their Facebook status be?

Miss Cupcake~ Getting ready to evict a tenant!

Greek Guy~ Black people drink Sprite, no caffeine.

Crazy Old Guy~ These young people now-a-days have  no manners.

Cashier~ I may have accidentally charged one of my customers one hundred dollars too much.

Mother~ How can I embarrass my children today?

Me~ Where the hell is my vodka?