There’s no other reason to explain why I shop at this certain store over and over, except that I enjoy pain. I won’t say which store it is, but if you’ve read this blog a while, you can figure it out.

Hint – it’s a big box store which also sells groceries. The store has lots of the stuff I need and the prices are among the lowest in town. The store is usually clean, the restrooms aren’t a total disaster, and the girls that work in the attached coffee shop are super friendly. Sounds like a decent place, right?

Allow me to continue…

It would be, if not for some of the characters that both work at and frequent the store. These are the freaks in my neighborhood store:

“Joey”

The cashier who doesn’t know anything. This dude is young, full of charm, but has a box of rocks for brains – a himbo, if you will. I like to call him Joey (like the Friends character).

I wouldn’t mind Joey so much if he just rang up my groceries. But more often than not, he’s walking the aisles and is somehow the only person around when I actually need assistance..

No matter what item I’ve asked about, he never knows where it is or oftentimes, what it is.

Never.

Not even once. And he always answers with the same stupid laugh, “Oh, I don’t know where that is (ha ha), let me find someone who actually has a brain to help you.”

Rent-A-Cop Bubba

This dude walks around in his uniform like he’s a cop auditioning for a role in an action movie. He’s hardened by his years walking the mean streets of the produce aisle. But really, he’s just a glorified cashier who doesn’t know how to actually cashier.

His main job, so far as I can tell, is to walk around behind people at just enough of a distance so you think you’re being followed. It’s weird, when someone follows you long enough, you actually begin to consider shoplifting just to mess with him.

And while he’s great at following women and fat daddy bloggers around, I’ve yet to actually see him intervene when punk ass kids are running through the store causing mayhem.

In addition to patrol, his other job is to randomly ask, “Can I help you find something?” as he puts his hand on his belt as if it’s got a gun. Like Joey, this dude has never ever, not even once, been able to tell me where something is.

Finger Licking Fools

The cashiers who licks their fingers before touching each and every one of my items.

Why does these cashiers insist on licking their fingers before opening a bag? Don’t they realize that their mouths contain roughly eighty billion and seven different germs? No wonder there seems to be this perpetual cold going around all the time.

All I can do is stare in horror as they contaminate all the groceries I just bought. Spreading their germs without a care in the world. And what can I do? Ask them not to lick their fingers? Then I look like the weirdo!

The Line Drill Sergeant

There’s this mean-looking lady who runs the front end of the store with an iron fist and permanent scowl. While I first welcomed her presence. as it meant more than one line would actually be open during busy times, she sometimes gets a bit too aggressive.

On more than one occasion, she has yanked me out of a line to move me into what was supposedly a less-busy line. Only problem was, by the time she brought me to this other line, two other people jumped into the line, thus putting me at the end of a longer line.

And my old line, the one where I was happily waiting? Well, it now has four more people in it! What the hell? Let me take my chances and choose my own line.

The Food Stampers

Speaking of lines, I have this uncanny ability to ALWAYS get in line behind someone with food stamps. I’m not gonna knock people on food stamps. But when did the food buying process become sooooooo difficult?

Apparently, there’s all these rules to what you can buy – rules that nobody ever seems to know. Every time it’s the same thing – the person with the food stamps has four different piles of groceries which must be checked and paid for via different methods because you apparently, you can’t buy two cases of Milwaukee’s Best on food stamps (who knew?)

So begins a laborious process of the cashier checking against some master list of approved items which you can use stamps for.

The cashier shows the customer that the items they want can’t be purchased with the food stamps. And then there’s a debate, the customer gets upset and demands to speak to a manager. The manager comes over and nobody seems to know what the hell is going on.

This goes on for no less than 15-20 minutes, while my cookies-n-cream ice cream turns into a puddle. Before you know it, I’m looking for Bubba, wishing just once he had a gun, so I could elect suicide by security guard.

So, what kind of freaks frequent your neighborhood store?

****

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Women CANNOT make a proper shopping list.

There is a fine art to making the perfect shopping list. Ideally, it should have items categorized in the precise order in which you will find them in the store. Makes sense, right? Yeah, I know you get your cold stuff last, so those items can go at the end of the list, but you get the idea.

I am proud to say, probably a bit too proud really, that I can create the perfect shopping list for any occasion. My lists are broken down by aisle and quantity of items needed. I even go so far as to write codes next to sale items, for stuff I have a coupon, is hard to find, or which I may want to stock up on. Sometimes I even like to categorize by color of packaging and font used on the label. In short, I write a damned fine shopping list.

My wife, on the other hand, writes something best described as a crime against shopping lists and a felony against the principals of organization in general. It seems almost as if she purposely arranges to give me a week’s worth of my required cardio every time I need to go to the store. This might explain why my most women I know shop in such a haphazard fashion, while men go directly to the aisles where the stuff they need is and then get the hell out of the store.

Let’s say, for the purposes of demonstration, that all items in the store were sold by alphabetical order. You’d have your eggs with your éclairs, etc…

Well, my wife’s list would read as follows:

• Apples
• Cookies
• Toilet paper
• Ziploc Bags
• Apricots
• Paper towels

You get the idea?

My wife’s shopping list more closely resembles a treasure map, than anything you’d bring to the store with you.

This weekend, she handed me a list where nothing was grouped as it should be. No, the list doesn’t have to be perfect (like mine) but stuff should be listed somewhat close to the order in which it appears in the store – the same store we’ve gone to for more than two years!

When I got home, I mentioned my problems with the list, to which she replied, her list is fine, the problem lies with me and my inability to read her list. According to my wife, I should be able to scan the list while shopping and remember what I bought and what I didn’t and have absolutely no trouble navigating the store in any order I choose.

Hell, I should be able to do it with a blindfold and two rabid wolverines fighting for the meat on my left ankle!

I know what some of you are thinking, But Dave, didn’t you say in your other post that men are such good shoppers that they don’t even need a stinkin’ list?

Yes, I did say that. However, that is when we are shopping for things we need. I can’t possibly guess what items my wife will want, though. And she can be quite particular about her food choices. You bring home the wrong scent/flavor/brand of an item and she will let you know about it.

So, there I was, having already bought all the “A” items I could find on the list and was making my way down the “N” aisle, when all of a sudden, I see aluminum foil hidden between Napkins and Q-Tips! I actually said aloud…

“Aluminum F’ing foil?! Come on!”

…as I spun my cart around and headed back to the A’s in an angry huff. Now I know how all those wheels on shopping carts get out of whack – angry husbands shopping from horribly made lists.

I’m pretty sure that if store employees watch their closed circuit security monitors, they grab a bag of popcorn and race to the employee lounge where a screening is being planned the minute I enter the store.

“Hey, it’s that crazy guy that curses out product names and wanders from aisle to aisle like some sort of demented madman.”

And another employee would say, “Oh, that’s just Dave, he’s married.”

Since the shopping trip, I’ve given the list a lot of thought.

I’ve finally figured it out. My wife is far more organized than I am and it’s difficult for me to believe she isn’t doing this on purpose. By drawing maps of bewildering ambiguity instead of easy-to-follow lists, she is either trying to keep me out of the house for extended periods of time or trying to make sure I don’t ask her to ever make a list again.

Hmmm… They always say it’s the nice ones you have to look out for. I think my wife may in fact be an evil genius.

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First let me say you’ve got a great store. It’s usually clean and the restrooms almost never have words written in feces on the wall – a huge plus in my book. However, I’ve got a few gripes.

First of all, and I speak on behalf of many, many customers – stop asking me if I want to apply for a damned Target credit card!

You’ve now asked me each and every time I go through your lines. Without fail! My answer will NEVER change. No, no, a thousand times no. Please stop asking me.

I could go off on a tangent as to why I don’t want your credit card, or any credit cards for that matter, but I’ll save that for another post.

This post is about the way you staff your store.

I notice that you have lots of employees! And in this recession, that’s great! However, whenever I visit your store, I see loads of your employees leaning against products, hanging out and talking to one another. Now, they COULD all be on break, but it seems a bit unlikely.

I wouldn’t care so much except for the fact that, except during the busiest days, you never seem to have more than two checkout lanes open!

I'm not sure, but this could be Target employees hard at work.

Tonight, you outdid yourselves in what I can only call the perfect storm of ineffectiveness.

I visited your store to purchase two jars of food for my son. Real simple in-and-out procedure, right? The kind you could even handle with the 10 Items or Less lane, right?

Wrong.

For one, I’m fairly certain that your 10 Items or Less Lane is some sort of Hollywood set piece, perhaps from the superb 1991 Jennifer Connelly comedy, Career Opportunities,  as I’ve never actually seen the lane in use.

So, with only two items in my hands, I found myself staring at two long lines which seemed to start somewhere in the middle of the store.

I was forced to choose between two of what can only be called the bench players on the cracker jack team you call cashiers.

There was Old and Slow, who is friendly enough, but she scans with the speed and grace of a dying tortoise and Joyless, the cashier who has the glazed look of a slave laborer.

Now I don’t mind that your cashier isn’t friendly. In fact, since I don’t really like making small talk, I prefer Joyless over Guy Who Wants to Talk About Every Item I purchased. He works over at Wal-Mart and creeps me the hell out with his intense joy over my decision to buy Pizza rolls. What is HIS DEAL? I’m pretty sure that someday authorities will find a room full of human skin suits in his basement.

So, I chose speed and went with Joyless.

Big mistake. Because I just happened to be in line behind a woman who decided that, “Yes, I would LOVE to sign up for a Target Credit Card!”

Are you f*&#ing kidding me?

Why on Earth would a cashier staring down a long line of customers with only ONE OTHER OPEN LANE ask customers if they want to apply for a credit card?

WHY?!

So Joyless gave the woman some form to fill out. And of course the customer couldn’t find her ID which was presumably somewhere in a purse the size of a Buick. She did however find every document she’s ever signed stuffed in the gigantic bag.

As she started digging through her purse, I eyed the Other Line.

Old and Slow’s line is moving! Just as I am about to break free and dash over there, four people behind me also see the commotion in our line and bolt over to Old and Slow, leaving me stranded. Jerks!

If it weren’t bad form for a man to do so in public, I might have cried.

Instead, I tried to act casual and not let it get to me. I don’t want to be one of those annoyed, uptight people who rolls their eyes while sighing in a passive aggressive manner and then smiles when the person who is annoying you turns to give an awkward, “I’m sorry.”

But on the other hand, I don’t want to be the guy that freaks out and says, “DIE DIE DIE DIE!” as I go all Falling Down on the place with nothing but a baseball bat and a garbage can lid for a shield.

So, I tried some slow breathing techniques to relax myself.

But internally, I stewed as the scene continued to drag on. The customer now had QUESTIONS about the credit card: about how much she’d save on this purchase, how much of an interest rate the card had and could the cashier please read her the small print as she’s forgotten her reading glasses and maybe, just maybe, she might be better off waiting and using her First Purchase Discount on a bigger purchase and…

JUST GET THE DAMNED CARD!!!!

Well, I wanted to scream that, but again, I kept externally calm.

If  there were some sort of electronic mind reading equipment in the store, security would have been called to take me down in a preemptive strike. Well, if the security guy wasn’t busy chatting with a co-worker in housewares.

Then I noticed that the guy chatting with security had the look of an assistant manager. You know, that drunk on the little bit of power they can lord over their underlings, type of look. He was completely oblivious to the drama unfolding in Lane 8.

I’m pretty sure as assistant manager, he could probably have opened up a register. Of course he didn’t.

After an eternity, it was my turn to pay for my two items. The cashier rang up my purchase of $2.42.

“Thank you,” she said tossing me my bag, “have a good night.”

Wait one freaking second!

No credit card offer? Is my Two dollar purchase not worthy of a credit card offer? The nerve of her! I am outraged!

So, what shopping pet peeves do you have?

Here are some other rants I’ve posted (or further evidence that I am not a well man)

Standing outside a DVD machine

Men are better shoppers

Why McDonalds will probably file a restraining order against me

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Yeah, I know it’s a rather general and broad sweeping statement which doesn’t apply to all women.

Oh, women know how to shop, in fact, most women I know LOVE shopping and would list it as one of their top five activities. They just don’t know HOW to shop.

When men shop, we shop with the single goal of getting stuff and getting the hell out of the store as quickly as possible. Shopping for men is carried out with military-like precision. We know what we want and usually where to find it – even if we’ve never been in the store before.

And if for some reason, we can’t find what we’re looking for, well, we didn’t really need the item to begin with.

You could give the same shopping list to a man and a woman and:

1. the man will be out of the store within 10 minutes or less
2. the man doesn’t even NEED a LIST. He’ll memorize the list. He’s that good!
3. the woman will see at least one shift change of employees during her shopping trip

The secret to men’s shopping success

Part of the secret to men’s shopping prowess is that we don’t waste time dawdling in the outer aisles of the store, which include the bakery, produce and deli. We know that all that we need in a store can be found in the center four aisles of the store – Frozen food, beverages and chips.

Sometimes, we’ll venture to an outer aisle, to get toilet paper or something.

Another speedy tip – you get ONE TRIP down the aisle. If you forget an item, move on. There is NO going back.

Women will walk down the same aisle four or five times and won’t think twice of visiting aisles out of sequence.

Male v. Female shopping patterns

Couples should NEVER shop together

Recently, I went with my wife to the grocery store. I had planned to go by myself, but she suggested that she and our son tag along. Yeah, our lives are so boring that shopping is a big event. Chalk that up to having a) a toddler and b) no money.

So my quick trip to pick up some groceries was now a family event.

Rather than walking down the aisles at a quick clip, grabbing only what we need, we were meandering at a leisurely pace, like tourists taking in the beauty of Prague.

The simple task of picking out a can of soup became an investigation into the ingredients on each can, a comparative breakdown of the price per ounce and a methodical consideration of what the prices were at other stores. My wife is looking at products as if she’d never been in a grocery store before.

Two hours later, still in the soup aisle, our son is getting cranky and I’m getting annoyed, thinking how much easier it would have been to shop alone.

It’s soup. You either know what you want or you don’t!

Perhaps, shopping amnesia had settled in.

Yes, women are prone to shopping amnesia, a condition which causes them to lose:

• all prior memories of what they are shopping for
• how much time has passed while they are shopping
• the location where they parked.

The last one can be forgiven considering how many days passed since they originally arrived at the store.

And God forbid you go to the mall with a woman.

You may as well pack a bagged lunch, some overnight clothes and a book or two. You’re going to be there a while.

I once waited on a bench outside a clothing store for nearly five days for my wife to pick out clothes. She said she’d be “five minutes.”

Tip: Five minutes is NEVER five minutes when it comes to shopping. Never.

I’m sure some of my female readers will tell me I’m wrong and that they can shop just fine, thank you. Maybe you’re one of the rare women I read about once.

I think it was in a book of fairy tales.

So tonight, I insisted that I go to the store alone. All we needed was a gallon of milk and it would be quicker if I went solo.

I’m so good that not only did I get out of the store in record time, but I also managed to find quite a few items we needed at deeply discounted prices!

Yes, I’m that good!

I got home, proudly showing off my sale items and my wife looked at me and asked, “Um, where’s the milk?”

As always, thanks for reading,

David

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