Tonight I went to Gristedes. I spent $37 on ONE bag of groceries. And I put BACK the $8.99 pesto.
I feel like I am perpetually bitching about my market, but when I look at the above sentence and realize that that is basically my only option, I die a little inside. But I suck it up, and I go grocery shopping.
Tonight I had a few things in mind that I needed to buy–bread being the most important one, mainly b/c the cold cuts I’d ALREADY picked up weren’t going to do me any good w/o something to put them in between. So I peruse the bread aisle. There’s no Pepperidge Farm. There’s no D’Italiano. There’s nothing. FINE Gristedes, thanks, anyway, I’ll just buy rolls.
There are no packs of rolls. FINE Gristedes, I’ll just buy a single roll.
The single rolls are all stale.
You have GOT to be kidding me ‘Stede, you really do.
I finally went back to the bread aisle and after scrounging for a bit managed to find something that seemed at least mostly edible.
Then I went in search of something to eat with my tortellini. That’s when I found, and then vetoed, the $8.99 pesto sauce. I went back to the tomato sauce aisle. All I wanted was a small jar of sauce. I’m Italian, yes, and pasta is a massive part of my diet, but I tend to mix up my sauce intake so a big jar is stupid. Do you KNOW where the little jars are in Gristedes? Do you know? Do you want to take a guess?
They are on the highest shelf in the freaking store. The HIGHEST shelf. Do you know how well that works for someone who is my height? NOT WELL! And do you know how many tall people walked by me, while I was on my tippy toes, pinky-inching this stupid jar of sauce (which was OF COURSE 1 jar’s width back on the freaking shelf) to where I could finally, hopefully, reach the damn thing? A LOT! And do you want to GUESS how many of them helped me? None. No one even offered to help. It was about to be a blood/sauce bath in that stupid aisle. What would my last words have been in that situation? DAMN YOU GRISTEDES!
My mother went grocery shopping this weekend. She spent $33 and got a TRUNKFUL of groceries. And we don’t live in some podunk little town. We live in the suburb of a major metropolis.
$33 for a trunkful.
$37 for a bag.
If you ever hear about a Gristedes massacre on the news, I swear–I was at home the whole time.