“Hi!” I Said, Trying To Be Festive.
Two days before Christmas is a terrible time to shop. That’s why I try to be finished shopping by Halloween.
But this year, I promised to make a salad. I wanted my salad to be fresh and full of delicious vegetables, so I had to go to the store today. And, since I was shopping anyway, I decided I’d make a few other things as well.
Hoping to find gluten-free lasagna noodles along with my fresh vegetables, I headed out to Trader Joe’s.
I got an unbelievable parking space, considering the crowds. It was a sign of good fortune ahead.
Inside, the store was packed but there was a camaraderie between shoppers, hopping this way and that, helping each other and moving out of each other’s way. I joked with the guy stocking bananas. I heard a man sharing recipe ideas with his fellow shoppers.
I saw a Trader Joe’s staff member lying on the floor with his head on a bottom shelf. As he stood up he said, “The last one!” and gave a bag of something to a customer. Then he bounced off to help someone else.
Moments later, I asked that employee about gluten-free lasagna noodles – but alas, they don’t have them.
He happily raced to show me where I could find gluten-free cookies, though. I think he was auditioning for Employee of the Decade.
At checkout, the Trader Joe’s cashier lamented the lack of gluten-free pasta products and suggested a brand of chickpea pasta. She smiled through the entire checkout process and by the time I left, I was nearly dancing with holiday glee.
Then I went to Giant.
There are a few items Trader Joe’s doesn’t sell, most notably a fried onion delicacy that is normally reserved for green bean casseroles. So I wandered through the grocery store, picking up things here and there, keeping an eye out for the elusive fried onions.
Remembering the staff member at Trader Joe’s, I took a chance and spoke to a young man stocking soup.
“Hi!” I said, trying to be festive. “Do you have any idea where the fried onions might be?”
He looked at me as if I’d disturbed his sleep. “Huh?”
“Fried onions? In a package? Like for casserole?”
“Salads?” he grumbled.
“What?”
“Put ’em on salads?”
“I guess, yes!” I said, still trying.
“Aisle 11,” he harrumphed, turning his back to me.
I looked around. We were in Aisle 10, so Aisle 11 wasn’t hard to find. I walked the fifteen steps to the salad toppings, then stopped and scoured the shelves.
There were no fried onions.
An older woman who looked like she knew how to make green bean casserole stood debating over dressings.
“You wouldn’t happen to know where the fried onions are, would you?”
She looked at me, somewhat startled that I’d spoken. “Oh! I just saw them!”
After much ado, and some confusion on my part, she directed me right to the fried onions.
“I get a dollar off!” I squealed, peeling my coupon and showing her.
“Oh that’s good,” she smiled.
My self check-out experience wasn’t as positive. The machine kept telling me to “Remove your item from the bagging area” and then “Place your item in the bagging area” ad nauseam.
Then I had some trouble with cream cheese and Giant staff was nowhere in sight. Eventually someone appeared, waved a card at my scanner, and then left. I finally figured out what she’d done, and then trudged halfway through the store to get new cream cheese before I left.
And that’s why I shop at Trader Joe’s.