Here in New Zealand, there are two major supermarket chains. They rhyme with Shmountdown and Cap’n’Cave. As an extremely broke student, I feel obligated to shop at Cap’n’Cave as it is A: The cheapest and B: the nearest grocery store to me, and I can’t be wasting fuel.
Ideally, you’d be shopping at Shmountdown. There apparently isn’t too much of a difference in cost, they have better deals a lot of the time, and it’s a much more pleasant experience. You enter the perfectly air-conditioned hall, there’s always trolleys or baskets available for you to just take on your way as you prance merrily through the little gates. Everything is laid out in a way that makes sense, and you know exactly where you are and where you need to go. You can always access the thing you need to. It is quick, painless, and easy. Everything has clearly labeled prices.
Or you go to Cap’n’Cave and enter into a pre-historic era of cavemen fighting each other for the last strip of butchered deer meat. It starts as you walk in the door where there is never a basket to be seen. You must decide between a trolley that could potentially be an embarrassing overkill, or desperately clutching everything to your chest praying that it holds out till you get to the tills. And boy, the tills are a problem of their own. It’s not how well they function, or if they are self-service or not, no. No no no. It is the fact that I have yet to experience the pleasure of standing in line for said tills, without somebody breathing down the back of my neck.
Listen. There is ENDLESS amounts of empty space behind you. There is absolutely no reason for you to be silently embracing me like this. ‘Well, why not shuffle forward a few steps?’ You ask, reasonably. The issue is, I can move forward a few inches just to get out of their breath cloud, and they will also move forward. They can see the line isn’t moving. Sir/Ma’am, There is NO REASON FOR YOU TO BE THIS CLOSE TO ME.
This is after about an hour of wandering aimlessly through an ever-changing labyrinth of products, with no rhyme or reason as to placement. Oh, you thought that chocolate milk would be in the aisle with the milk label? you fool. It is with breakfast. There is also a convenient secret Dinosaur level in my local store. Which is really handy when it’s been 84 years and I still can’t find the gravy.
Without a doubt, the worst part of this supermarket is other customers. It’s like the customary rules of decency just do not apply here. Some kid almost ran me over with his parents’ trolley the day before yesterday because he was taking it for a joy-ride. Somebody always parks right in front of the product I need and spends 10 minutes comparing labels. Staff is also guilty of this. Slow walkers walking five across. Being cut off by somebody because their shopping is the most important. Occasionally these all happen within the same five seconds, and you just get trapped in a vortex of anger and shopping trolleys.
Yes, I did go grocery shopping last night. It didn’t seem that bad, which is upsetting me because that means I’m getting used to it and that is unacceptable.
That concludes my passive aggressive rant for the week.
Thanks for reading~