WAL*MART TO FOREIGNERS

There's a wonderful place called WAL*MART.
     A huge (square footage of) land where all your dreams (including the bed... well, almost) come true.
     Where interesting fairy-like people dressed in blue or green vests, t-shirts or aprons attend to your every need (“hi, welcome to WAL*MART”).
     A place that houses so much indulgence under one roof, folks have tried to get locked inside... until they realized that it was open 24 hours.
     Now, to Americans this airy-fairy version of WAL*MART is probably a load of nonsense, especially to those that like to spend their Monday mornings holding up protest signs outside and scowling disapprovingly as one walks or drives in.
     I'm from England you see and we don't have much in the way of indulgence warehouses and foreigners like me can always be spotted in grocery stores by that unmistakable “gang of lost souls” look we all wear after the first step inside.
     Please be patient though when you see one at your local store either:

          * Wondering around in a daze, heading in no specific direction.

          * Stopped smack dab in the middle of the freezer aisle, mesmerized by the huge tubs of ice cream.
          * Carefully examining the oversize packets of everything from potato chips to milk, trying to figure out if there really is that much in there or just exaggerated packaging.

You see, I used to be a member of this ridiculous drool brigade... alright I still am but I have gotten smart about it by tagging along to someone who is immune to the trap that only WAL*MART virgins fall into.

     Going to WAL*MART for foreigners is like trying to explain what the Blue Man Group is actually about:

     You can't, you simply have to experience it!

Ella Roberts,

www.ellaswit.blogspot.com

 

TRAUMA IN GROCERY STORES, Part 2

CONTINUED FROM:TRAUMA IN GROCERY STORES, Part 1

 
See I am one of those pitiful individuals that know nothing about grocery store placement logic, in fact where stuff is placed makes no sense to me and the only reason I may know where something is is because I've seen it there before!
     So there I stood shaking at the entrance of aisle one on a Saturday afternoon, holding onto the un-sanitized cart for dear life, trying not to drop my list, afraid to ask for help or move in case someone knocked me into the cat litter.
     Whoever said “necessity is the mother of invention” must have experienced this situation, because in my terror I resorted to creativity.
     An overwhelmed father of two came running towards me, chasing his over hyper twin boys and leaving a well stocked cart at the other end of the aisle.
     In his cart were six magical items from my very own list and since I didn't know where he'd found them and was too afraid to ask in case he asked me to help discipline his boys or something, I reached in and shopped in his cart.
     And I would have gotten away with it too if the previously absent mother hadn't suddenly appeared, holding a block of cheese and a bottle of wine (drunk!), asking what I was doing – like she didn't know!
     I was going to argue on principle, but having witnessed her over hyper boys and assuming they didn't get their unruliness from their dad, I replaced each item slowly (hoping she would say “it's okay take them, we know where to find them”) back in her cart, I smiled, muttered a resentful “I’m sorry” and almost ran down the aisle, knowing she was looking at me with disapproving disgust.
     Don't judge me; you would have done the same thing!

Ella Roberts,

ellasbooks.blogspot.com

 

TRAUMA IN GROCERY STORES, Part 1

In every household there is a designated shopper, usually the mom because she generally has a great sense of what everybody wants and needs and she knows where to get it at bargain prices.
     Unfortunately, in my house hold that designated shopper is not me!
     This is because I do not like to shop (for clothes or anything else unless I REALLY need them) and of course I should never be allowed inside grocery stores because I have a minor issue... okay, the issue is major!
     I get so ridiculously overwhelmed at grocery stores that I forget what I am there for and end up wasting hours mentally crossing items off my list that I would like to buy but cannot because:

                    a) I am always on a diet.

                    b) I cannot afford them.
                    c) I have no use for them.

So I was at a grocery store recently (not WAL*MART after what happened last time) not because I had a burning desire to get lost in food, but because I had to.

     Yes, my household's designated shopper had important things to do that day and I was challenged to step up and be a woman, before we all starved.
     Fine I told myself, because I was more than prepared to take one for the team!
     And surprisingly, in this mind set I managed to overcome the cloud of confusion that usually meets me at the doors whenever I step into any grocery store.
     Instead, a different set of mental circumstances said hi this time…

CONTINUES: TRAUMA IN GROCERY STORES, Part 2

Ella Roberts,

ellasbooks.blogspot.com