“Super”

I did the shopping today, since I’m at home enjoying some employment-free time.

It’s a good thing you can’t really RAGEQUIT supermarkets, because otherwise I’d have been home much earlier.

See, I hate supermarkets, me. And I don’t mean, “I dislike going to the supermarket”, I genuinely hate it. Take the kind of idiocy you see in Auckland driving, multiply it by ten, add hand-pushed carts, and then you get my personal supermarket experience. I can’t go there without some scarce-evolved simian gruntingly, their eyes crossed with the effort, producing one of the following classic supermarket thougts:

– Know what’s cool? Sloowww walking. That’s what’s cool. Myep.
– Right here in the middle of the aisle is the perfect place to stop my cart, look into the middle distance, and just .. think a happy thought.
– I reckon if I stand to one side, or a bit back, from the shelves full of a really popular product (like, say, Milk) then Wolves Will Eat Me. Best if I just stand as much in front of it as I can while I choose which of the hundreds of identical bottles to put in my cart. Because, man, who wants to be Eaten By Wolves? Not me, that’s who. Fuck you, Wolves!
– That big hairy guy keeps crashing his trolley lightly into mine, staring unblinkingly at me, and repeating “Excuse me, Please.” … I wonder what he wants. I guess I will NEVER KNOW. Well, this middle distance won’t stare at itself! Back at it!

There’s a dark core to my hate for supermarkets. There’s layers to it. There’s facets.

14 thoughts on ““Super”

    1. I, as the big hairy guy in this particular matter, was not thinking about hitting on him. Plain simple “Hitting Him”? Sure. But there was no On. And I’m too peaceful to actually hit anyone. But I can dream.

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  1. I really like going food shopping – it’s very satisfying! The people ruin it though. My particular hate is those people that stop their cart in the middle of the aisle then walk off to the side to look at the shelf. What? I just get rude and say “EXCUSE ME!” really shittily and loudly, heh. Nerdy gets embarassed.

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      1. Oh yeah, I’ll move the trollies too… but just a couple of feet. Next time I’m feeling uppity I’m going to try your tricks. Maybe I’ll put condoms and a frozen chicken in someone’s trolly.

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  2. I have discovered that hitting the supermarket at 8am on a Monday morning = less idiots (’cause there’s less people), more room to get up and down the aisles (’cause there’s less idiots), and the opportunity to do a full shop, pay and exit in under 20 minutes. This pleases me.

    The downside is getting to the supermarket at 8am on a Monday morning …

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  3. I really like going to the supermarket at 10:30pm. It’s almost deserted, so you don’t have to fight your way through the mouth-breathers.
    Also, being in the supermarket at 10:30 at night feels a bit illicit. Iono why.

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  4. My general approach to supermarket shopping is to treat it like a special ops mission: work out ahead of time what my plan of attack will be, primary goals and targets of opportunity, and identify potential risks and chokepoints.

    Of course, it’s rare that a plan survives first contact with the enemy intact, but maintaining the right mindset can make supermarket ops a lot more survivable.

    When going in, it’s a quick hit and fade. You keep moving; stalking through the aisles like a force of nature, twisting to avoid oncoming trolleys instead of sidestepping early, you’d be surprised at just how often people will make that extra bit of effort to get the hell out of your way.

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  5. The supermarket is best late at night we find. Less old people, children, parents and general idiots and more people like us who just want to get in there, get The Food and get the fuck out. Friday and Saturday night are good actually.

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  6. Right here in the middle of the aisle is the perfect place to stop my cart

    diagonally, and then stand next to it. Allowing just one person to block the entire fucking aisle. I have been known to utter the phrase, “Wow, lucky there’s just you here, right?”

    Then there are the people just in front of you, all pissy with someone else blocking the aisle who, when the gap opens up, PARK IN IT. Fuckers.

    My shopping trips are high speed excrutiatingly organised missions not to be trivially interrupted by a whole flat full of morons trying to work out which instant coffee to buy.

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