Woes of a Saturday shopper

I've decided today that I would rather have a pin shoved into my eye than shop on Saturday afternoon.

Daisy will tell you that she often hears about my grocery shopping misadventures when she gets home from work on Saturdays, but in all honesty, I don't so much mind going to the grocery store on Saturday morning or the occasional Sunday morning. As long as I'm not getting donuts, and that's a pretty rare occurrence.

There is something about donuts on Saturday and Sunday morning that inspires people to unusual heights of selfishness. I can't tell you how many times I've been elbowed out of the way by seemingly kind senior citizens, when all I want is one apricot danish.

Pastry purchases aside, I've come to the decision that Saturday afternoon grocery shopping just shouldn't be part of my weekend anymore. I'd already written off Sunday afternoon or evening shopping several weeks ago as an exercise in seeing how much frustration you want to put yourself through. Saturday afternoon has officially been labeled as the same.

Today, I was cut off in the parking lot twice. Still, I remained hopeful of a good shopping trip as I walked from my end-of-the-lot parking space to the entrance, enjoying the rare combination of sun and warmth, without the crushing Pittsburgh humidity. (Pittsburgh is famous for its heat and mood-melting humidity in the summer, but since the record heatwaves of July ended, we've been strangely spared those pains.)

My hopefulness was gradully chipped away by the crowds of patrons all-too-happy to run me over with their carts in an effort to get through their shopping ASAP and move on to the next task, and the hordes of whiney, screaming adolescents and teenagers.

I like kids. Mostly, I blame their parents for the way they behave in the grocery store and other public venues these days. Why else would they (boys and girls alike) think it's ok to flat-out run up and down the aisles? Or, as I witnessed one boy doing, shout to his mother from where he was, in one aisle, to where she was, two aisles away?

Since none of this behavior elicited a reprimand from the parents of these kids, one must come to the conclusion that the parents think this behavior is fine. And so, I repeat my assertion that the parents must be to blame for the behavior of their offspring.

After all of the above, and 30 minutes of waiting in the checkout line, I firmly decided that Saturday at the grocery store was not for me. Being cut off twice more on my way out of the parking lot only sealed the deal further.

-Penn