A Nagging Thought

I was always in denial about being reluctant to accepting change. In fact, I think I went out of my way to assert to people how open I was to change: on several occasions I said that instead of ordering a salad, I would take their recommendation and get the soup, and I was a vegetarian for AN ENTIRE MONTH, everyone. If those are not examples of someone who embraces change, then I don't know what is.

However, I always knew in the back of my mind that the whole thing was an act. A farce. There were examples abundant successfully stripping me of my facade: my unwillingness to wash certain articles of clothing, to change my glasses, to get a cell phone with a camera, or to pick out the three day old piece of apple wedged in between my back molars, for instance. A recent trip to the grocery store solidified the ugly truth.

Our over-priced grocery store, the Coop, was recently replaced with another overpriced grocery store: Treasure Island. I have no shame in admitting that I went at 8 AM the first day it opened to check it out. Lots of people I know camp out in front of shoe stores to be the first people to get dunks or high-tops or whathaveyou. I would do the same with grocery stores.

The store has the same decor as the old one, due to the rushed turnover period, which still took a painfully long time. This was a time with my section of the fridge was embarrassingly unstocked. I was reminded of rationing during WWII. It has the same prices, basically the same articles of food, and many of the same people.

One thing that did change was the location of foods. While the font, size, and color remain the same above each aisle, nothing is where it was originally. The pasta is a full 3 aisles away from where I am used to seeing it, the spices are 2 aisles to the right of where they should be, and the baking stuff is...I can't even recall. Not where it's supposed to be, though.

And I can't even begin on the produce.

This situation led me to become very disgruntled and impatient while shopping, while desperately having to go to the bathroom. So I wandered down the aisles doing the I-am-nearly-incapacitated-with-my-desire-to-use-the-loo walk, trying to find where the thick spaghetti strands were. Not with the Cecco pasta in aisle one, nor with the Barilla in aisle three, and since I was by now aware that different pastas were spread out in different parts of the store, that thick pasta could be anywhere. With the frozen food. With the beef. With the dried fruit. Wherever the fancy so struck the stocker, because it was not with the other pastas.

Treasure Island's catch phrase is "The most European grocery store." Such a hoity-toity claim is completely unnecessary at this point in the game, as it is the only grocery store in the area, and I would go to it even if it claimed it catered to extraterrestrial beings. Or if it said it was smelliest store around. I have no choice. I feel like I can control the interior organization of it, though. From now on, every time I go shopping there, I will move one food group to where it was in the Coop. After all, in Europe they're keeping all those old ruins sticking around that are everywhere. Like them, I'm reluctant to change some things.