Thursday, December 22, 2011
Yesterday I found myself battling grocery store crowds. The aisles were jammed full of shoppers...half of which would park their grocery cart in the middle of the aisle so they could eat samples.
The grocery store equivalent of double parking. I can't maneuver around because these morons are just dying to know what pound cake tastes like. Or cheese. Or a new deli meat...something commonplace.
You want to know what I think of samples? I find them repulsive, that's what. The idea that anyone would place their mitt inside a plastic dome to sample from a mound of whatever.
I think of where all those hands have been prior to reaching in. Toilets. Noses. Restroom door handles. And then that same hand reaches in and fondles three samples before deciding on the perfect bite.
Because I'm stuck behind these people I can't help but notice what most look like from behind. I've found that most have deflated looking asses with pants hanging like draperies. Usually thinning hair, gray. Lots are in the late stage of menopause where they walk like Yoda all hunched over and crap.
Have you really observed these people? I mean, they're pretty non animated during sample time. Kind of just stand there as though they're some goddamn sommelier trying to pick up fruity notes or something as they chew on beef salami. Or as though tasting a piece of Hormel pepperoni takes them back to Florence, Italy. Hypnotized...Oblivious to my glare as my cart is parked 3" from their ass.
And what exactly is their takeaway from the sample experience? Do they talk about it on the ride home? "Jesus Mildred! Did you try that piece of Sara Lee Eclair? You'd never know it was frozen!"
Oh, and check out the so-called samples in my picture above...Since when is a 6" sub a sample? Christ!
Maybe I'm just in a huff today...