Grocery store should not be such a trip

Many situations can throw a normal person for a loop. George Bush’s constant and unnecessary… Many situations can throw a normal person for a loop. George Bush’s constant and unnecessary terror warnings are an extreme example. As far as everyday life goes, I can’t think of one circumstance more frustrating and nerve-wracking than when the grocery store decides to relocate all of its stock.

What is intended to be a quick and simple trip to pick up some sustenance — in my case, bananas and granola bars — turns into a project requiring a considerable allotment of time and patience. Raised in a society constantly in a state of urgency, these are two luxuries I do not possess in vast amounts. Whenever I’m there, it is usually for one or two items. Sure enough, the express lane is closed, and a glorious total of two other lanes are open, with the rush-hour capacity of New York’s Grand Central Station simultaneously trying to check out. Meanwhile, someone’s grandmother has a thousand coupons and is paying for her groceries entirely with pennies that she’s been saving in a jar since before the war — and I’m not talking about Iraq here. By this point, I’ve at least learned my lesson: never attempt such a feat on Sunday afternoons, when every holier-than-thou, church-going member of humanity files into the supermarket at exactly the same time. It’s virtually a knee-jerk reaction, possibly an eleventh commandment — “Thou shall invade the grocery store the second the minister finishes the benediction.”

I’m not a huge fan of grocery stores as it is.

In the best conditions, grocery shopping is not high on my list of ways to test my patience. This level of aggravation is probably tripled when the store’s stock is reorganized.

Contrary to popular belief, I’m no dummy. I know that the grocery store managers do this with one incentive in mind. Not being able to find your typical groceries forces one to peruse isles of previously unknown goods and make people like my mother say, “Oh, doesn’t that look neat.” Lo and behold, the result is that she comes home with some novelty item like Nutri-Grain bars filled with pseudo-yogurt that could very well remain intact in the event of nuclear war. No one wanted or liked, and certainly wouldn’t ever choose to eat these bars. Nevertheless, she dropped a few more bucks than anticipated during her grocery run — falling right into the trap set by the all-mighty, suburban life-controlling grocery super-store.

My mother, while quite possibly a magnet for impulse purchases, is not the only one to fall victim to this evil ploy. On my latest jaunt to the grocery store, I was on a mission to buy a bottle of conditioner to replace the one that a female member of my family, who shall remain nameless, finished and failed to restock. Upon my arrival to the aisle that formerly housed the hair products, I was greeted by a plethora of colorful boxes filled with sugar-coated, marshmallow-laden cereal. Seeing a sweet tooth’s dream staring me in the face left me contemplating whether on not I should purchase a box of — dare I even say it — carbohydrates, just for the hell of it.

This was an interesting problem, to say the least, for a variety of reasons. I don’t enjoy milk, and therefore, am not often a cereal consumer. Yet, because I was wandering in an isle I usually am trained to avoid, I spent an extra five smackers on an item I am not even that crazy about in the first place, which lingered comfortably on my ass and thighs for the better part of the next week, I’m sure.

This scenario repeated itself three of four times throughout the trip. Not only did I spend considerably more cash than I intended, but I also spent nearly twice the amount of time there than I had hoped.

Clearly, I am a grocery store stockholder’s dream come true. Personally, I’m just frustrated and disappointed in myself, and my lack of self control. A Fox News yellow-level terror alert? That I can handle any day, but please don’t rearrange my grocery store.

If Colleen Bayus never has to grocery shop again, she doesn’t care. Word on the street is you can order groceries online and have them delivered to your front door if you spend more than $30. God bless the Internet. E-mail her at cab2357@pitt.edu.