Hard day at the Superstore

I feel stupid even writing about this, but I was so upset, I need to get it out of my system.

I've already tried two glasses of wine and telling Himself, who give him his due, got adequately upset on my behalf, but the stone is still in my shoe.

Here's the thing...

In our house, I usually do the food shopping.

I hate doing the food shopping... hate hate hate... and Himself quite likes browsing the bargains, so really we should swap chores and I should clean out the water filter or something. But it just works out better if I do the food shopping because I am the cook most of the time and I keep the mental tab of what's missing because I make it missing.

In other words I am a control freak who likes to know what's in the fridge.

Plus I hate doing the water filter.

So we spent the weekend on the island and I didn't get the shopping done and I realised on the bus there were no decent options for a nice Monday supper for a man who worked a ten hour day, so that meant even though it was already 6pm, I had to do the shopping.

Also I had to get gas.

Those of you who know me or read this blog will know I have an irrational hatred of getting gas.

It's expensive, it destroys the planet, it gives me guilt, and causes me poverty between May and November, plus I have to stand in a wind tunnel for ten minutes.

So this evening, with a heavy heart, instead of just heading on into the beauty of an Eastern Shore sunset, I turned into the Superstore that's near the Esso on the way to Hwy 207.

Heaved myself out of my replenished gas guzzling machine, retrieved my recyclable bags from the enormous trunk, felt the inevitable twitch of irony about that particular situation, and went in.

Note1: We are currently going through the transition from plastic to recyclable grocery bags in Nova Scotia, and Gifted Typist recently wrote a post on how that transition is going for her (never has a bag in the car) which was very true and very funny.

Note 2: There was a ridiculous but typical 'shock horror, germs invading Canada leading to appalling death, ohmygod' CBC piece on the radio this morning about how people are not laundering their recyclable shopping bags enough, and consequently there are germs in them from the meat (even though it is wrapped in plastic) and WE WILL ALL DIE.

Me, I had to do the recycled bag thing in Spanish in 1989, in German in 1990, and in Ireland in the 2000s, so I am an old hand at having the bags ready.

GT - Hang the bags on the inside front doorknob!!

Note 3: I am so friggin' cheap, I brought my recyclable shopping bags with me from Germany via Ireland.

Note 4: My green bag *shame* - I have never washed them. Everything I buy is wrapped in plastic FFS!!

So, I tear around the fresh produce section and buy veggies and meat.

I ignore the centre aisles, like a good shopper is supposed to do.

The supermarket is quiet. I trundle up to a checkout and unload.

She's talking to her friend.

She is a 'pass it over the scanner and toss it anywhere' checkout girl.

Normally in this store, they are Grade 12 'after school and a quick toke behind the store' checkout boys. So they forget to scan half the stuff, and then you have to unpack and tell him they are leeks or porcini mushrooms, or parmesan cheese or whatever, so they can find the code, and find the label and put everything on the counter straight etc.

This one is a full-timer.

But me, I am the Queen of anal retentive.

I am ready for her.

My bags are open - I catch the produce and throw it in one bag, I catch the meat and put it in the other.

While I am doing this, she is foostering under the counter.

I know what her game is, so I haul my bag of meat out of harms way back onto my trolley.

Credit card in hand I stand there, the picture of 'I packed my own bags and now I want to pay using your store's credit card so I can get points for my green bags' innocence.

Because you get extra points for using recyclable bags.

Which would imply that the store WANTS you to do that.

Plus you get charged for plastic.

She hauls out a roll of plastic bags and shouts at me.

YES, SHOUTS...

"I was GOING to pack the meat in plastic bags."

I said, 'that stuff about germs, it's just a plot created by the plastic bag companies.'

I was just trying to be funny....

She shook her fist in my face and screamed at me in frustration.

I stood there and said nothing, thinking, wow, every auld one in the store today must have insisted on wrapping everything in the green bag in plastic.

I felt her pain.

I did.

Then she *forgot* to give me my credit for my recyclable bags.

They don't forget, it's just really complicated and stupid, so they *forget*.

Which meant I had to a) ask for it, b) get one of those customer service shrugs which means, you are a nightmare green customer beyotch, c) get mad enough to queue up for a 'raincheck' at the Lotto counter, and d) feel like a fucking cheapskate doing it.

By the time I got back to the car I was in tears.

Mainly because I have to go through this every time I shop at this store.

Here's the thing....

1. If you as a company purport to offer me a choice to decline plastic wrapping, then offer me the choice:

Train your FUCKING staff to offer me the choice.

Untrain them to assume I want a different type of plastic and then shout at me because I decline it.

2. If you as a company feel that the plastics industry is in fact correct, and the plastic wrapping currently on the meat is allowing juice to leak into the recylable bags and potentially causing eColi, (and lawsuits) then stop using plastic altogether and wrap the meat in something impermeable... like... oooh... I dunno... greaseproof paper maybe...

Like they do in the store where I am planning to spend my $700 a month food budget starting on Friday.

3. If I pack the bags like your checkout person is supposed to do, then tell them to say thank you, like they do in the Spryfield Superstore, because I'M DOING THEIR FUCKING JOB.

I'm calling Stephen the manager tomorrow.

I'm really upset.

On so many levels.

And all I wanted to do was buy some meat and veg.

Hard day at the Superstore, Himself said.

Hard day indeed.