When I step into supermarkets, I am filled with unequivocal delight. Nothing beats a trip to the supermarket. It is without a doubt my favourite part of the week. Sometimes I go multiple times a week but without fail Sundays are grocery days.
Sundays are a sacred day to wantonly gaze at fresh fruit and produce, fill my pantries with wholesome nourishment, and stock my family sized fridge with fresh meat and dairy products. Imagine the delight a hunter gatherer tribesman felt when he downed a great beast. All I have to do to get unlimited meat is walk into a supermarket. I imagine a caveman would have an aneurysm if he walked into the same place. How blessed we are to have so many within walking distance of our homes!
Supermarkets, what a fitting name as well! You like regular markets? It’s a regular market on steroids! Well this place is super full of life’s nectar, ambrosia, and all of your heart’s desires! Farmer’s markets? Pfft barely open. Flea market? No, I’d rather not get fleas. Yes, you can’t go wrong with a supermarket!
Not all supermarkets were created equal though. The one I go to (colloquially known as “the Fancy Supermarket”) has products and services the regular supermarket could only dream of. A sushi bar with handmade artisanal sushi made right in front of your eyes, a hot deli with hot sandwiches selling like hotcakes, a bakery with countless different kinds of delightfully baked goods, a cheesemonger with shelves stacked high with wheels of cheese, a health foods shop with hundreds of tiny bottles, a fishmonger with fish so fresh you could imagine a warm summer’s breeze at a seaside resort, fragrant flowers picked the day before to smell, and tropical fruit imported to eat. I could wax poetic on every single delight in this magnificent supermarket. What new wonders and produce will I see next time I visit? No one knows but go I shall.
Every. Single. Week.
Crunchy or smooth peanut butter? That’s just two choices. How about what nut to turn into butter? Almond, walnut, or hazelnut? Do you want all natural or with a pinch of sugar? Don’t get me started on the cereal section. I could spend all day lovingly reading the ingredients, gazing into the eyes of colourful mascots, imagining the sugary flavours, the malt flavours, the savouriness, the fresh milk poured over crunchy goodness, and the spoon making airplane noises into my mouth. I imagine childhood me sitting down on the sofa, bowl of cereal in my left hand and a big silver spoon in my right, watching cartoons, eyes fixed on the telly, nothing else mattered and nothing else will.
Each week I go, I buy something I have never tried before.
Miso paste? An umami explosion!
A foreign delicious potato snack with a talking robot slapped on it? Don’t mind if I do!
A Belgium waffle that has printed on it in big bold text ‘MADE IN BELGIUM’. Glorious.
Fresh kangaroo from Australia? How exotic! Tastes like chicken!
I pick up an orange straight from a giant box filled to the brim with orange pearls of wonder and I just stare at it. A single tear forms in my right eye. It rolls down my cheek and I thank God himself for making this orange. The sunny citrus zest playfully molding to my hands. It smells so fruity that it reinvigorates my lust for life. Oranges can’t even grow here! What black magic, what wonders, what logistics did it take for you to travel here little buddy? It’s a long way from home but don’t worry, your journey is almost over. I pet it lovingly on it’s orange head thrice before putting it in a plastic bag, double knotting it, and then into my family sized trolley.
The sweet scent of fresh baked bread wafts through the air. It’s the only thing that could break me from my trance of staring at the erotic fruit. I smile a knowing smile. I know where I am going next.
I go to the bakery, a saunter in my step, a supermarket jingle in my head, the grip of the trolley handles smooth against my sweaty palms. The baking lady beams me a smile and I beam one right back at her.
“Hello! How are you miss?”
“I’m good thanks and you?”
“Lovely. Splendid. Happy to be alive!”
She laughs. It’s true but she still laughs
“What kind of bread do you have in store today? I’m feeling rye but could be persuaded with a spelt”
“We have a lovely hazelnut honey rye sourdough right here or maybe you’d prefer the walnut honey spelt bread? What about this artisanal handcrafted rustic white sourdough?? We have it all here, darling!”
I am erect with excitement. I have so many choices! It’s insane! Do people think about all the choices they have? This is just the bread selection. There are so many choices for just bread, can you believe this? It’s like this with everything! Who actually needs 10 different flavours of Oreos? Not me. But I have the choice if I wanted it!
It’s a bit controversial but I like to go no list when I go grocery shopping. How do I remember what to get? That’s the beauty of it. I don’t! I just have to go back to pick it up if I forget! Inconvenient? Nope! I love this supermarket with all my heart. My soul longs for it, my heart beats for it. Did I forget toothpaste? Pfft yeah right. Of course I didn’t forget! I am just going to go back right this minute!
How do people not fall to their knees as soon as they step into a supermarket? I personally bless myself every time I step through the golden arches of its holy entrance. A logistical miracle, a bountiful cornucopia, a river of gold. I am going insane just thinking about it! I must go to the supermarket this minute! Why? Because I’m bored. I don’t even need anything but I’ll buy whatever catches my eye
Grocery bag in hand, I amble leisurely down each aisle, my big boots click click clicking on the hard epoxy floors.
Instant coffee two for one, buy 3 for a free mug!
A free mug?? Jesus Mary and Joseph, this means I have to buy 6 jars of this stuff! Quick maths! 2 free mugs makes the mug in the mirror quite happy and I was pretty damn happy before even seeing this generous deal!!
Deals deals deals, my eyes do some quick scans, they shoot to the bargain bins, the half price section, the produce that has a day or two of shelf life left. It’s integrity hanging by a thread but you can always grab a deal! Any keen eyed observer can get a deal, trust me.
Those mushy bananas can be banana bread! I will save them from the compost like the hero I am!
That meat spoils today! That means it’s dinner today! I don’t care that I can’t eat a whole leg of lamb. I’m gonna roast it and eat it for the next few days. Better yet I could freeze it! Yes thank you magical cold box for letting me store all my wonderful supermarket food in you.
Back to the art of the deal. My eagle eyes spot a warn sticker hanging from just one corner, I think it says 50% off. I don’t even know what it is but you know I can’t turn down a deal like this! It is the only one left! I take it gleefully in my arms like a rare artefact and gingerly place it at the front of my trolley, a symbol of triumph for my random supermarket trip! Satisfied, I walk over to pay and start chatting up the cashier.
“Ah for fuck sake! That cheeky fuck took the last one... The only thing I actually wanted in this fucking place. Came all the way here just for it and he goes off and takes it. Bullshit...”
I hate supermarkets with an unbridled rage. When I step into a supermarket, I am filled with existential dread. They all suck equally, this one in particular because it’s always filled with stupid people.
C’mon gramps! Some of us have lives to live! Just choose your damn bread... Why is there so many different kinds of bread? It should just be white and brown. Why is there so many different sections and people at the sections? Who made the aisles look like a bloody maze?? I don’t want to talk to the person making the bread. I don’t want to discuss the strength of cheese. I don’t need your recommendations. I can pick things perfectly fine myself thank you very much.
I roll my eyes as I look at the expiration date. Food shouldn’t last this long. What are they putting in it to last a week straight on my kitchen counter? How is this snack sugar free while still tasting so sweet? Terrible ingredients such as high-fructose corn syrup, processed xyz, sorbitol, mannitol, xylitol.
I look at the back of a cereal box in disgust. I can’t even pronounce half the shit in it! When an ingredient is more numbers than letters, you know you have a problem! I try buy stuff that doesn’t have more than 5 ingredients and in this day and age, it’s becoming harder and harder to do that.
I go to the supermarket when it’s just about to close to avoid as many people as possible. This comes with the disadvantage of seeing all the massive food waste that piles up at night. Late night workers carting stale bread, black and blue produce, and wilting flowers to and fro from the front of the store to the back away from prying eyes. They’ll all be dumped. What a waste. Half the shit here is a waste. How lucky we are to waste food while parts of the world still starve to death. It’s disgusting and I lament the fact that humanity has been this lopsided. Life is not fair and there is no better symbol than the common supermarket to show you this…
Begrudgingly dragging my heels to go to the supermarket this evening, I am greeted to my abject horror and dismay to the fact that the whole supermarket layout has changed! I go to the same supermarket at the exact same time. 8.30pm on the dot. Store closes at 9pm. It takes me 23 minutes to get all my shit and be back home. This would not be possible now that they changed the supermarket layout...
THOSE FUCKERS
I hate when they do this. It happens rarely but enough to piss people off. They do it so people like me that has memorised where we want to get our shit has to re-memorise it. All for what? On the off chance we buy more shit by spending longer in this dreaded place? Fat chance!
I imagine the evil capitalist executives crooning maniacally over each other in a hexagonal shaped table made of gold and sulphur cackling to themselves as they discuss how to change the layout to inflict maximum pain to regular people.
“Why don’t we put the eggs...”, the chairman stifles a laugh, “Why don’t we put ‘em in the very back!!”
The whole room erupts into laughter. Heavy guffaws and spittle flying everywhere as they knowingly roll on the floor with laughter, eyes clamped shut, difficulty breathing.
“And the milk.... at the back of course... but get this lads.... WE PUT IT IN THE VERY OPPOSITE SIDE TO THE EGGS!!!”
The room explodes with another cacophony of cackles and howls of amusement, the fat cats drying their eyes with paper notes chucking them haphazardly into the waste bin.
I feel like vomiting after imaging this scene. Those fat fucks gorging themselves on profit and misery. It doesn’t matter if I buy fair trade, organic, non GMO, none of it fucking matters. All an excuse to charge the common people like me more money more greed more profit more more more.
Paralysed on the spot the two bags I brought with me weighing me down, filled with plastic water bottles and tin cans, I manage to shuffle over to the new recycling machines with my recyclables.
I slide the first bottle in.
TOO FAST
TRY AGAIN SLOWLY
Angry red letters flash into my eyes. Ah fuck sake!
I slide the bottle slower this time. A lot slower. Like I am a feeble old man and lifting the bottle is a Herculean task.
TOO SLOW
TRY AGAIN FASTER
The red letters stare at me again this time accompanied with harsh bleeping sounds.
YOU GOT TO BE SHITTING ME!!
The bottle gets crushed in my vice like grip, my anger bubbling to the surface. The vein on my temple wriggling like a worm. Steam shoots out of my earholes. Fuck fuck FUCK. I am so FUCKING done with this place.
I throw the bottle as hard as I could muster into the screen of the stupid machine and kick over the two bags I brought along. The contents spray rapidly on the epoxy floor like jetsam in a vast sea of dull grey. I don’t care anymore. Keep the money. Fuck you stupid machine!
Making a dash for the back of the supermarket now, I know the shit I need is at the back so I start there. Milk yeah, cheese yeah, eggs yeah yeah yeah. I crack a few of the eggs checking the box to see if any were cracked. Not my problem. I’m buying uncracked ones.
I need a single ripe tomato and I see they helpfully come in packets of 6. Not a single loose tomato in sight. Ah fuck the tomatoes! They are tasteless and watery here anyway. Why the fuck can’t they just have more loose tomatoes? I don’t need 6... I just need just 1...
And that’s when I see it. The last thing I need on my list. 2 for 1 Sudocrem, 50% off. Ah well lads there is a God in this Godforsaken place. There’s one left. I rush to get it and before I get there I see some prick scoop it up and plop it into his oversized trolley and off he went.
THAT’S IT! THE STRAW THAT BROKE ME FUCKING BACK
I take two brooms from the cleaning section and hold one in each arm and start knocking shit off the shelves. Row upon row of aisles, I start running through every single God damn one knocking shit over. A giant glorious mess fills the supermarket. All I see is red.
I run from the security man as fast as I could. He tries tackle me to the ground but I manage to sprawl on top of him, the brooms flying to the side. I get him in a nice clinch and proceed to hip toss him on to the hard ground. Lights out buddy!!
Picking up my brooms, I finish what I started. After twirling the brooms with a flourish, I admired my handiwork for a split second before rushing to the PA system at the front of the supermarket. The tinny reverberance grates at my ears as I hold down the push to talk button.
CLEAN UP ON ALL THE AISLES MOTHERFUCKERS!
With that out of the way, I straighten my jacket, comb my disheveled hair twice over with my sweaty hands and saunter on out towards the exit.
The repetitive supermarket jingle exuberating through the speakers rattle in my ears as I am greeted lovingly by the gaudy neon coloured shades. Sirens blaring in the background. Strong stern men and women staring me down. I had no regrets whatsoever.