If you were hoping for a post about the quality of beef products to be found at your local Gristedes you are in for a big disappointment. If you were hoping for a post about the quantity of things that bum you out about your local Gristedes you are in the right place.
Boo came to the city this weekend and I was hoping to surprise him with a six pack of Magic Hat’s new brew, Lucky Kat. I went to the ‘Stede on Monday and found the shelves fully stocked. Except that there was only 1 six pack of Lucky Kat. And it was missing a beer. No worries–for as many packs of # 9 and hI.P.A., they’re bound to have more Lucky Kat in the back. So I vow to return. Wednesday I venture back to the ‘Stede and am confronted with a distressing site. Still no Lucky Kat. But the shelves are getting low, so I anticipate a re-stock any day now. Friday and Boo is due to arrive in just a few hours. Once more I find myself in Gristedes and once more I find that Lucky Kat is still one bottle short of a six pack and I am still one six pack short of, well, a six pack. I inquire about the lack of brewsky and am bummed to find that no one seems to know the whereabouts of said missing beer. As I check out with what products I was able to find, I notice something that upsets me even more. In a cardboard box at the front of the store there are empty beer bottles. Not broken, simply empty–as though someone had, uh, sampled them. And what label do I see in that box, staring me in the face? Yes, that’s right. MY missing Lucky Kat. In a store that could apparently manage to only order one six pack of this brew yet another genius employee thought it would be wise to sample a beer out of that pack, rendering it unsellable (unless at a discounted rate, of course, and out of desperation).
As if this isn’t bad enough and as if I am not anti-‘Stede enough, Boo and I head down in the morning, er, early afternoon, to purchase pancake mix and coffee. Armed with our caffeine we are in good spirits when we return to the apartment. And then my eye drifts to the expiration date on the coffee I am drinking. November 19, 2007. Well…sure, okay, it’s only 4 months old. That can’t be too terrible for me, can it?
At this point I am ready to give up on Gristedes. If it weren’t for the fact that they are right downstairs, I would completely abandon them. As appealing as that is, I am out of cookies n’ cream ice cream and I am experiencing serious sugar cravings so I am out of options (it’s raining, I’m not traipsing about for ice cream). So I suck it up and walk in, fully excited for my half gallon and then–
Disaster. Of all of the flavors available: Coffee, One Split Wonder-American Idol, Chocolate Fudge Chunk, and even a Tagalong themed flavor in honor of it being Girl Scout Cookie season; there was not a SINGLE tub of Cookies N’ Cream. Not in the Turkey Hill, not in the Ben N’Jerrys. Nowhere. I finally found one dinky little pint of unknown brand origins and was at least slightly less agitated. Until I took a second sweep of the Edy’s, just to make sure. That’s right. That stupid Gristedes has raised their prices. The once $6.99 frozen confection is now an appalling $7.49. They have raised their prices a whole 50 cents! And this up from the already atrocious original!
I can’t even drown my supermarket related sorrows in a cold beer, or a cold scoop for fear that my refilling options would be out of stock–or worse, that I won’t be able to afford the next price hike.