Posts Tagged ‘ foodtown ’

I Hate Me, Part 276,030

It was late morning, I had to run to Foodtown and I had to make it quick. I needed to pick up a salad for my lunch, a twelve pack of diet root-beer, paper towels and some other bullshit that I now forget. I then had to drop the good car off with Carrie and get to work. I was running a little late and I was feeling a little rushed, a less charitable person might describe it as panicky. Anyhow, I got into the store grabbed a cart and headed towards the salad. As I got there this woman talking on her blue-tooth had her cart blocking the aisle, I tried to go around and was met with her screaming banshee child running around holding a big container of apple cider over his head, like he was a pint sized terrorist using it as a potential weapon. I went around the other side and got my salad. A few feet away the main aisle gets pretty skinny due to an overzealous water display. I found that it was blocked again by the the cart of blue-tooth woman, I didn’t see banshee child but I heard him. She was oblivious to my miming of “Is this your cart? Hmmm”, so I moved it myself. I got what I needed in the meat aisle and headed towards frozen foods. I had an open field and I was making up time. I turned the corner and “FUUCCKKK!” her goddamned cart was blocking another aisle, this goddamned thing was like the Flying Dutchman. This time I just rammed it with my cart. This time the woman saw me and glared, I just gave a shrug and a “I dunno” face. I got the rest of my stuff and headed to the check out, I was headed for the “around 25” items lane and out of nowhere blue tooth woman and banshee child cut in front. They probably didn’t cut me off, I just interpreted it that way. So i went to the 10 item lane, knowing full well that I had more that 10 items. This isn’t usually a big deal but one of my more assholish “quirks” is being a “too many items in the 10 items or less lane” nazi. I can’t help it, if I’m on one of those lines, I’ll silently count the items of the customers in front of me and get angry if they are over. So me, Sgt. Check-out is over, way over. The cashier didn’t give a shit but here I am apologizing and explaining, “Well, I’m sorry…I know there are five yogurts… but if you count them as one item…. five times…well…. then I’m close to the suggested ten items…right.” The cashier just looked at me in bland astonishment and said “it’s fine… it doesn’t matter”. I realized I overplayed my apology card and then apologized for apologizing. I finally paid and left, a little more dead then before I went in.

I Hate Me, Part 107,263

It was a shit day off, I had just gotten into a beef with my next door neighbor (aka: the trash burner). When that kind of stuff happens, I replay it constantly in my head and it hamstrings my day. I had to go to Foodtown, I knew the potential for annoyance* was high, but I wanted to get out of the house. I wanted to make a surgical strike, I needed salad from the salad bar, some apples, yogurt, laundry detergent, and paper towels. I didn’t need a cart or a basket, in my head I figured out my store route; salad,apples,detergent,towels,yogurt, check-out. I had a giant cup of coffee before I left and I felt bulletproof. I got in and everything went to plan, I started celebrating (well, maybe not celebrating but it was the kind of day where any victory was good) and then I hit the check-out (cue the brake squealing, record scratching sound). The shortest line was the express line but in front of me was an old guy in a motorized assist cart and a guy who comes into my store who’s referred to as “The Kasabian guy”. A nice enough guy who seems a bit medicated and always asked about upcoming releases for this english band called Kasabian, sometimes he’d come in a couple of times a week and check. I hadn’t seen him in a while and I really didn’t want to get into a conversation much less a conversation about Kasabian. The guy in the motorized cart was going as fast as a guy in a motorized cart can go and the Kasabian guy had his stuff all spread out on the conveyer belt and was standing in such a way that I couldn’t put anything down without risking a conversation. It was about this time that my pyramid of groceries started to shift (remember I didn’t want to be slowed down by a cart or basket). It was a good stack, in my left hand a flat container of salad with carton of individual yogurts on top and a bag of apples resting on top of everything. In my right hand, a roll of paper towels under my arm and the jug of detergent in my hand. The apples started rolling around in their bag, threatening to spill out, I tried to steady it and ended up dropping everything onto the conveyer belt, knocking over most of the Kasabian guy’s stuff. I apologized to him and he had no idea who I was. In my flustered-ness I blurted out, “Still listening to Kasabian?”, he made a weird lemon face and said no.

*A side note to the word “annoy”. My wife says I never met a pun I didn’t like and I know that puns are the lowest rung of humor but… A long time ago my friend Dave and I did a couple of songs on a four-track under the name Annoy-Bauten ( a pun on german band Einsturzende Neubauten), we did a couple of Sabbath songs (I forget which) and impersonated William Shatner singing them. Not as good as it sounds. 

I Hate Me, Part 255,301

I went to Foodtown after work, while shopping I saw a deli guy who I always see when I’m there. I asked him how it was going and he said “You know what they say in that old gospel song…swing low, sweet chariot”. I know that song as an old spiritual made famous by Paul Robeson. Robeson had an insanely deep voice and it’s fun to try and sing as deep as he did. I know he was great actor and athlete as well as a singer, he was also early civil rights casualty and was treated extremely badly by our government, but still… So I instinctively sang back in my deepest voice (in reality,not so deep) “Comin’ for to carry me home” As I did this I noticed a middle aged black guy at the other end of the counter glaring at me. Me being my usual paranoid self thought that maybe he thought I was being racist, when it was probably just a critique on my shitty voice, so I sputtered “ I..was just tryin’ to do sing as low as Paul Robeson.” It was a panic move, I’m not saying that no one knows who Paul Robeson is anymore but it’s an odd thing to blurt out, about as odd and dumb as trying to sing a line from an old spiritual in Foodtown. The guy shook his head and walked away. I quickly headed to the checkout, staring at my feet.

Paul Robeson

I Hate Me, Part 206,888

The HMS Foodtown
We were having a few people over for the Super Bowl. It’s nice to have people come by, I like it. I also think that having people over is a good push to get the house straightened up. “There’s people coming over Sunday, you need to get these records out of the dining room/living room/kitchen/hallway/refrigerator ”, “I just vacuumed. Don’t walk on the floor, hover!” It gets a bit frantic around here and at this point the dog isn’t really pulling her weight in regards to helping with the housekeeping, which was one of the reasons we got her (I know, tie Swifter pads to her paws and send her on her way. Doesn’t work, she eats them.) I went to Foodtown to pick up some last minute things. I had gotten some buffalo chicken pieces at A&P which were awful, like bad chinese food chicken in hot sauce. So I wanted to get some proper buffalo wings, I got some and it didn’t look like enough so I thought I’ll get some shrimp. Yay, shrimp! Everyone loves shrimp, it’s festive. The seafood dept. at Foodtown is usually manned by a guy who seems like he doesn’t want to be there and doesn’t really want you to be there either, I haven’t seen him in a while. I didn’t see any of the pre-made shrimp trays. The woman who was working the dept. had her back to me frantically making a shrimp tray. I didn’t want to bother her, so just yelled to her “I’ll take one of those when you’re done”. Without looking at me, “three minutes!”. So I went and got the rest of my stuff and went back. I didn’t realize how big the tray she was making was, it was massive, but I asked for it and it is shrimp so I knew it wouldn’t go to waste. She started putting the plastic top on it and there seemed to be a problem with it, but it was hard to tell as her back was to me. So she got a stapler to help secure it but it was out of staples. Now she’s getting angry, her back is tensing and she’s starting to mutter. She finally sorted out the stapler and she started stapling the top like a crazy person, accidently stapled a piece of fish wrapping paper onto it, then tore it off. I started to have second thoughts on the shrimp, who needs it we got a lot of other stuff and I didn’t say there would be shrimp but…it is shrimp. She finally attached the top of the shrimp tray. She handed it to me as if she were ridding herself of a curse. I got home and started wrestling with the over stapled top of the shrimp tray, there seemed to be hundreds of staples in it (actually twelve, which is quite a lot for a shrimp tray) and I tore the actual tray sending a few shrimp down to the floor which I had to pick up before the the dog a.k.a. “the shitting vacuum” ate them and the inevitable “Why are you feeding the puppy shrimp?” Anyhow, nobody was as excited as I was about the shrimp and I ate too many and was ill the next day.

I Hate Me, Part 277,809

I Worked on the fourth of July, it sucked. We were having a cookout after work and on my way home I went to pick up some beer. I went to the giant liquor store, thinking I was going to get some exotic cool guy beer. I ended up with what I always get Yuengling Lager, which is fine. Anyhow, as I was checking out, my wife called to ask me to pick up paper plates and last minute stuff, so I swung by Foodtown.  I wanted to be real quick as I didn’t want the beer to get warm. I ran in picked up paper plates and the other stuff and went to the 15 items or less checkout. As I was getting on line the guy who was checking out made a mad dash past me, because he forgot something. It didn’t bother me because the kid was still ringing up his stuff, mostly fruit and vegetables . The cashier was acting like he had come from a planet that didn’t have fruit or vegetables. He was scrutinizing everything, like he had just seen each thing for the first time. I know that there are many types of apples and stuff like that but a lemon is a lemon. I’m pretty sure that Foodtown doesn’t have nine varieties of lemons. So while I was doing a slow burn about the cashier, the customer was nowhere to be seen. Actually I did see him run down an aisle halfway and then run back with nothing and go down a different aisle. All I could think about was my beer getting warm and why the hell couldn’t we just eat off of regular plates. I couldn’t believe how goddamned slow the cashier was and where the fuck is the customer. He finally came back with two cans of tomatoes and finished up. The cashier, a young kid, couldn’t give a fuck and I’m sure he was wishing death on all the customers, Christ knows I would have. So as I’m checking out, a drunk guy comes steaming down the line behind me and he’s not stopping. Don’t fucking tell me this douche pig is gonna hit me with his cart and POW! he hit me with his cart. I gave him my “Hey, Haah!” look and he muttered a “sorry buddy” and slammed down his purchases; a giant box of Ritz Crackers and a gallon of bleach. I was finally finished, drove home as fast as I could, opened a warm Yuengling and cursed humanity.

I Hate Me, Pt. 116,881

30 Seconds Over Foodtown

Another long day and I figured I’d get some cold cuts at Foodtown for dinner. It was a little after nine and the deli department was pretty empty. There were two customers and three people behind the counter, this shouldn’t take long. The first customer, a woman was ordering a bunch of stuff but not all at once. It was excruciating, every time I thought she was finished “mmm…….and…a half pound of boiled ham” Okay, that looks like the end, wait, no. “mmmmmm……how about…..mmmm….a quarter pound of…….(OF WHAT!!!)…mmm…Jarlsberg….and of course I want some salads”. She was completely making it up as she was going along, no rhyme or reason. This went on for about ten minutes, meanwhile the other customer was this guy who wanted to chat with the deli guy, “Whoa… that’s a great price for the Boars Head chedder, I’ll take half a pound…but stack it so it doesn’t stick together….Do you guys have a secret trick for stacking cheese so it doesn’t stick?…Man, that’s a good price….Hey…hey how much are you slicing there buddy, I only want half a pound (The deli guy weighs it, it comes in at about a quarter pound)…You know that looks like a lot more…I would have taken it…if it was over though…I love that cheese….You know what I want next… six slices of the Liverwurst…cut ‘em thick….but not too thick…” It went on and on, meanwhile the third deli guy saw I was waiting for a while and he comes up. I kind of know this guy from going there so much, so I figured I’d get sorted, “Hey, it’s the Jacks Music man, how are you doin’”, “Well I’m just waiting to get served.” , “What are you gettin’? The usual? Quarter pound of roast beef, right.”, “yeah, that’s great. Thanks.” Okay, here we go. He grabs the roast beef, takes it out of the wrapping and points to the guy who’s helping the talkative douche. “Yeah, he’ll take care of you when he’s done.” Yeah, I fucking know he’ll take care of me when he’s done, but he’ll never be done. Of course, I manage a small, tight smile, “….oh…okay…” I finally get my stuff and pick up the rest of what I need and head to the check out. My two nemeses were at the regular checkout, with their thousands of pounds of sliced deli goods and salads, they’d be there all night. Luckily the 10 items or less aisle was open, alright. Well, there’s nobody there, I wait and I look over at the courtesy desk and I see two teenage shlubs yakkin’ it up and I’m thinking if either one of those two motherfuckers is supposed to be ringing me up, I’m gonna…and I realize I’m not gonna do a goddamn thing, I’m gonna pay for my food and curse them under my breath. I start to stare/glare at the courtesy desk, the power of my glare will move them. Eventually, one of them sees me and ambles over. I give him my best angry “Whatthefuck?” look and he stammers,”Sorry….I was buying gum” and then shows me a stack of 5 packs of Trident. That was an answer I wasn’t expecting, I paid and shuffled out

I Hate Me, Part 379,003

Foodtown:further adventures at

The threat of a snowstorm always pack grocery stores. So last night after the warning of yet another storm, Foodtown wasn’t my personal store as it usually is at night. It was overrun with the “stock up for the storm” crowd. I got my stuff; sliced roast beef, ham and chicken from the deli department a package of sandwich wraps and a couple of Lean Cuisine frozen dinners for my wife. I got on the 10 items or less line, there were a couple of people in front of me but it was moving. A friend of mines wife was on line and we had a “I’m sick of this goddamned snow” conversation. Then it was my turn, the kid starts ringing me up and he gets to the end and he’s holding the deli bag of sliced chicken and he’s looking at me…
Kid – What’s this?

Me – ..chicken…

Kid – There’s no price sticker on it

Me – ..ok… well, it’s a half pound of Boars Head Rotisserie Chicken

Kid – There’s no sticker on it

[ The line is starting to get longer, there are now four people behind me and I’m looking around for the price sticker. I figured it somehow wound up on me, “Hey, you cost $4.99, haw haw”, it didn’t. The kid is looking at me all slackjawed, and I give him a “C’mon buddy, do something” look]

Kid – I guess I’ll get it reweighed

[ So instead of calling someone from the managers desk or the deli, the kid takes off with my chicken, leaving the register unattended. there are now about seven people behind me and no one’s happy. I’ve been at the ass end of these lines and I’d always curse the poor bastard who was holding up the line. It was also close to closing time and the only other register had a line of people buying enough food for a small army. I’m dying a thousand deaths. The kid comes back, without the chicken. ]

Kid – Yeah, they’ll weigh it.

Me – I thought that’s what you were doing

Kid – No, I just brought it to them

[ I looked up at the register screen and I see that the chicken had already been rung up]

Me – Hey man, that chicken already got rung up

Kid – Really?

Me – Yeah, look at the screen; chicken, roast beef, ham

[ the kid rescans the roast beef]

Me – You just rang that up a second time

Kid – Oh…yeah

[ he rescans a Lean Cuisine (chicken in peanut sauce)]

Me – You just rang that up a second time as well

Kid – Well there are two Lean Cuisine’s

[ Now I’m completely frustrated, the line is up to about ten people and I’m arguing with this kid about Lean Cuisines. I might as well be arguing about tampon prices or extra small condoms. There’s a palpable hate vibe coming from the end of the line. Finally the kid finds out what happened, the chicken sticker came off and got stuck on one of the Lean Cuisines (Chicken ala Shame). This nightmare is about over , my reweighed chicken came back and because my body runs on humiliation, I apologize to the line.  I’m thinking “Hey checkout kid, you can join in the apology as well, your ineptitude didn’t help things.” Of course he didn’t, and I slunk off into the night.]