Making the Bread and Milk Run

Thursday is Senior Discount Day at my grocery store. Unfortunately, last Thursday was also the day before our big winter storm. Here in the South, we tend to freak out when the threat of snow looms. A threat of snow is basically any depth over, say, about a half an inch. So we are forced to make the Bread and Milk Run.

I knew things were bad when I had to circle the parking lot three times to find a space and saw shoppers going into the store with empty carts. That could only mean that there were no empty carts inside the store. (This was not my first snow storm) I looked into a couple of cart corrals and they were picked clean. Then I saw a young mother with a baby. She had just unloaded her groceries and was returning her cart back to the corral. I put on my sweet little old lady face and asked, “Could you use some help?” She lifted her baby out of the cart and told me I was just the sweetest person in the world. Actually, no. I was really just acting nice because I wanted to take that cart away from an innocent young mother and run with it. Technically, I am usually a nice person, but not on grocery day when the forces of nature are working against me. I just want to get that straight.

But I had a cart! Then I entered the battle zone. The produce section looked okay. You can always tell when shoppers are in winter storm mode, Brussels sprouts and kale salad are the last things on their minds. As I approached the aisles that I was interested in, I began to notice huge gaps on the shelves. Most of the gaps were where I had planned to stop. The bright side was that I didn’t have to spend much time shopping because there wasn’t much left to shop for.

I seriously needed eggs, even though they cost more than steak now. A young stock boy was trying to unload a shipment of eggs onto the shelves, and had to stop every time a shopper approached. I made a note to feel some pity for that guy at a more convenient time. This was not the time. I edged out two other ladies trying to get eggs. They looked younger than I, so I felt a little smug about that. And I was getting a feeling of entitlement right about then. It was my regular grocery day and these panic shoppers were trespassing on my time.

There were only a few cartons of eggs left. Correction: the stock boy had a lot of egg cartons to unload in the display case. He certainly didn’t offer to hand any of us a carton and save all of us a little time and trouble. I opened the first carton and a large portion of the eggs was broken. I reached for another carton and noticed those two ladies giving me the evil eye. The stock boy wasn’t very friendly-looking, either. He had other things to do, like replenishing the gaps in the bread and milk aisles. I began to feel just a little intimidated. I grabbed the next carton of eggs without inspecting it and let them fight over the rest. I get intimidated rather quickly when I am outnumbered by angry shoppers.

The aisles were heavily crowded. Remember it was Senior Discount Day and all those motorized shopping carts that the seniors drive were blocking every aisle. And the seniors who could walk were walking slowly, or down the center of the aisle, or both. I know this for a fact. I hope I didn’t make anyone late for their dinner. All I desperately needed was ice cream! Not a single carton left. Thursday is my regular day to be at the store. All those panic shoppers got my ice cream :( They should’ve been more prepared and shopped on a less hectic day, like Wednesday.

I got everything I could and then entered Phase 2 of the waiting game: the checkout line. It wrapped around the store, out the ‘employees only’ door in the back, and down the street. That might be a bit of an exaggeration, but not much. Finally, the lady just ahead of me began unloading her cart onto the belt. The first thing she unloaded was a bag of Brussels sprouts. I waited in line behind Brussels sprouts? This is the South! The essentials on "The Bread and Milk Run" are: bread, milk, ice cream, toilet paper, and anything containing chocolate. Not Brussels sprouts!

Then it was my turn at the checkout. I haven’t been this excited since Christmas. The sweet cashier informed me that a few of my eggs must be cracked. She told me this as she wiped drippy egg white off her hands. I felt bad for her but she didn’t know what I was up against back there. I bought the eggs anyway. I wasn’t giving up my place in line. And better cracked eggs than a rumble with two mad shoppers.

I finally got home with what few provisions I was able to grab. And I didn’t get bread, milk, ice cream, toilet paper, or anything containing chocolate! I especially did not get Brussels sprouts. I did get three broken eggs. I had to rinse off the nine surviving eggs and the inside of the carton as well. You know what happens when all that egg white dries. You end up with more broken eggs just trying to dislodge them from the carton. All in all, it seemed like a successful trip. I came home with enough food to keep Hubby and me from starving. And I made a young woman think I was really nice. I feel a little guilty about that one.