Tag: shopping

Shopping Etiquette

I have noticed an interested phenomenon while grocery shopping, lately. This has been occurring for many years, it’s nothing new, but I only recently began to wonder about it.

What is the proper etiquette when you come across an item that has fallen off a shelf and onto the floor?

Countless times, I have wandered down a grocery store aisle, minding my own business as I pushed my shopping cart with the wobbly wheel, trying desperately to keep it moving in a roughly straight direction, when suddenly I see a loaf of bread on the floor. It isn’t always a loaf of bread. It could be a can of corn, a stray potato in the produce section, or even a bag of chips that is now somewhat worse for wear due its six-foot plummet from its previously lofty perch. It really doesn’t matter what the item is, the point is it was on a shelf, but now it’s on the ground like a suicidal jumper during a Wallstreet collapse.

For now, let’s just stick to the bread analogy.

What is my responsibility to that loaf of bread and the rest of its kin still on the shelf peering down on their fallen brother?

Sometimes I will pick it up and place it back on the shelf. Other times I will leave it, unsure if returning it to the shelf might lead to someone purchasing damaged goods when the item should have been thrown away by store staff.

Which response is the proper one?

Clearly, if a jar or bag has fallen and broken open, the intelligent option is to leave it on the ground and notify an employee so they can clean up the mess. But what if the item isn’t broken? What if it is merely slightly injured and limping about, hoping some good Samaritan will come along and return it to all of its horrified friends?

And what about those items that aren’t just on the floor? Is it my responsibility to relocate that stray bag of tater tots that I discovered among the jars of spaghetti sauce? Or the bottle of coffee creamer that has mysteriously teleported into a stack of canned black beans?

Let’s take this discussion up a notch. Say I’m browsing through the jars of green olives and I accidentally drop one. The jar breaks at my feet and olives go bouncing and rolling in all directions. What are my responsibilities in this situation? Do I need to notify staff? Should I offer to pay for the items I destroyed? Or can I slink away like a soldier behind enemy lines, searching for an unoccupied barn to hide in until the immediate danger is past?

I know that it is NOT okay to throw additional jars on the ground and then claim that a tiny, very localized earthquake just tore through a two-foot section of shelving. Store staff will quickly realize that you are lying and escort you to the parking lot where a nice man wearing a blue uniform will inform you that you are no longer welcome to shop at that particular store.

At least, that’s what I assume will happen. I haven’t actually tried that excuse or anything. Not that anyone can prove, anyway.

New topic. Let’s talk about grazing. If you don’t know what grazing is, that is the practice of wandering through a store and helping yourself to a bite or mouthful of various items. This is usually limited to the produce section where people may sample a grape or other small piece of fruit, but I have seen much more egregious examples. I have seen people open a bag of chips and drink a can of soda they liberated from a cardboard carton. I assumed at the time I witnessed these actions that the shopper was eventually going to pay for the items, but I didn’t follow them around to be certain.

At what point does this practice stop being acceptable behavior and drift into the realm of theft? No really, I’m curious to know what people think because I’m planning on going to the store later today and I’m thinking about making myself a sandwich while I’m there.

Last scenario. Forget about all the stuff on the floor and who is eating what. How about the music that plays in the store while you are shopping? Are you permitted to sing along? I have heard people humming before. I even heard one older gentleman whistling along to a lively version of Man Eater by Hall & Oates. What is the cutoff point? How exuberant can you get?

I figure if I start breakdancing in the soup aisle or screaming out Back in Black in my best Brian Johnson impersonation, I have probably overstepped a wee bit.

But at what level does enjoying the music become simply annoying the other shoppers and require a response from store security?

I don’t know the answers to these questions. If I did, I would probably have a better relationship with the supermarkets in my area. (Pro tip: having your picture on the wall next to the entry doors of a store is not always a good thing.) I am only asking because I’m hoping someone might be able to offer me some guidance in my quest to become a better store customer.

Until then, I will just have to use my best judgement as to the proper etiquette and behavior within the hallowed walls of our local grocery stores.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to fix myself that sandwich I mentioned earlier.

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Grocery Shopping in the Time of Covid-19

Due to the recommendations of our president and state governor, my family and I have been huddling at home, watching television, eating, and generally getting on one another’s nerves for the past few weeks. Whereas I used to get out several days each week to see movies, have lunch, or just meet with friends, I now rarely see anything other than the same four walls inside my house.

The other day, however, I grabbed my car keys and headed to the great outdoors searching for a grocery store so I could replenish the family’s doomsday supplies. I just wanted to get some necessities. You know: chips, sodas, alcohol, and a few bags of mini marshmallows to make rice krispy treats.

In other words, essentials.

When I headed out, I was completely unprepared for what I encountered.

The night before my journey, we had a major storm roll through our town. It rained and the wind kicked up to over 30 miles per hour at times. As I drove along the street leading away from my house, I found myself veering back and forth over the roadway to avoid large tree limbs, garbage cans, and various other debris that had been deposited in my path. There were no other cars on the road, but that actually made the whole thing more surreal.

I felt like I was a lone survivor of the apocalypse, driving through an abandoned city on a broken, partially blocked road. I kept waiting to run into rusted, burned out hulks of other cars that would force me to abandon my car and walk the remaining miles to the grocery store.

And since I had left the house without my machete and sawed-off shotgun, I felt woefully underprepared for this journey.

I fortunately made it to the store without having to give up the car. I also did not see any other people out during the drive, living or undead. The streets were uninhabited.

I did find several cars and people milling about when I arrived at the grocery store. There was a short line of shoppers standing six feet apart from one another waiting for each person to grab a grocery cart, wipe it down with antibacterial wipes provided by the store, then get out of the way so the next person in line could take their turn.

I grabbed my cart, wiped it down, and entered the store.

Many of the shoppers inside were wearing masks over their faces. Some of them were purchased facemasks, while others were homemade. All I could see were dark, suspicious eyes, peering at me over the tops of the masks, gauging whether or not I was a threat. I assume they were all thinking the same thing as they looked me over.

“If he comes closer than six feet, I’m going to cave in his head with a can of creamed corn.”

That’s okay, though. I was thinking the exact same thing about them.

Just like any good apocalypse, the store aisles were mostly empty shelves thanks to previous looters who got there before me. No paper products anywhere. No soap, no eggs, no flour, no sugar. Nothing that could be horded and stored in a garage for coming months of anticipated famine. It was less like shopping and more like foraging for scraps in a bombed-out building.

I snuck around the store, moving from empty row to empty row, trying not to make too much noise. I don’t know why. I just know that’s what everyone does in movies when they’re in a grocery store that has been picked clean. Making noise usually gets everyone killed except the young, good-looking people. Since I know what I look like, I stayed quiet.

I found some of the items on my list, but certainly not everything. Shopping these days is an exercise in futility most of the time.

And there were no zombies to shoot, which made the experience even more miserable. At least with zombies you can work out a few of your frustrations with a baseball bat and nobody is going to call the police.

As I payed for my groceries, I waved at the cashier through the plastic barrier the store had erected between her and the customers. I swear, the stores have more security for their employees right now than most banks. I asked her several times how her day was going before she finally shook her head and yelled, “I can’t hear you over here. Just put your credit card in the scanner and go away.”

After loading my meager supplies into the car, I headed home. It was the same lonely, debris-filled obstacle course I came in on, only in reverse. Nobody drove up next to me to run me off the road and steal my food, which is good. It means society hasn’t broken down that far.

Yet.

Still, it made me glad when I was back home with my family. They drive me crazy, but it is a more normal kind of crazy than anything going on right now outside the house. For the foreseeable future, I am just going to hunker down behind the moat and the barbed wire and try to ride this thing out, at least until the next time I have to go foraging…

Sorry. I meant, shopping.

Shopping with my machete and sawed-off shotgun.

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