ShopRite. I would like to take a moment to petition and reach out to my fellow food shoppers and change this misleading name to its appropriate title. “ShopWrong!”
This cluster fuck of a food store chain begins as soon as you pull into the parking lot. Sixty people fighting for the first available spot other than handicap. Every other parking spot seems to be open but humans refuse to walk an extra six feet.
Next you attempt to choose your shopping cart. It’s 106 degrees in August and hasn’t rained in three weeks yet every cart is filled with rain water and wet coupons with a saturated produce bag containing a crushed cherry tomato. Never fails to include a Prudential Rand real estate team trying to sell you a 900k house and you can’t afford a head of lettuce.
So you begin to push the cart and the left front wheel is always jammed. As you approach the front door there are three Mexican gentleman with rusted brass teeth, suits off the clearance rack of Peddlers Mart and rain boots handing you flyers in the hopes to gain your vote for the next US presidency.
The door opens and you are consumed by the stench of raddish and rotten broccoli . First stop is produce. You grab that plastic bag and unless your a NASA engineer, you cannot open it. Arrows on the bag clearly point in the proper direction but you assume ShopRite has it wrong and try the bottom for “shits and giggles.” After many attempts, the damn bag just won’t open so you walk around staring at bell peppers hoping for a miracle.
I always heard a supermarket is great place to meet someone. I love my wife and kids with all my heart. Never the less, there is this small part of me that cannot wait until the day a beautiful women arises from the eggplant booth and sweeps me off my feet.
You get to the meat section and there’s twelve people dressed like astronauts and Eskimos wandering around aimlessly stocking the shelves with outdated product.
You had it. You head to check out. You are on the express line (15 items it less.) You must become Dustin Hoffman in Rainman and count your items as the 103 year old women is waiting impatiently behind you.
Very stressful! “Shopwrong” is a more appropriate name. Don’t ya think?