Chapter 238: Shopping (part one)

We drive to the supermarket. First decision is: Where should we park?   We drive down a one-way road past a perfectly good spot. If we keep going and come up the next road we might get a better spot.  A spot near the bay to put our trolley in.  I am reminded of a lady, who never wants the closest spot.  She always parks in the furthermost, darkest corner of the parking area; so that her car will not be damaged by other cars. 

  

We enter the supermarket.  We now arrive at decision number two: Which trolley should we take?  I give a couple of trolleys a test drive and take one that seems to obey orders. 

We begin shopping. I push the trolley and Bruce—you know what young kids are like— is really irritating me running up and down the aisles and jumping on the front of the trolley waiting for me to push it. 

He keeps asking all the time: Can I have some chewing gum?  Can I have some chewing gum?

All the time.

He is trying to wear me down and I just ignore him and we kept going up and down the aisles putting in the usual stuff. Past the barn-fed, organic and free range eggs inviting decision number three.  He hangs onto the side of the trolley and drags it skew whiff narrowly avoiding a very purposeful special’s hunter.

And then I have a brain wave. My wife and I can gather all the stuff. Bruce can push the trolley. We will all the items to Bruce who will put them in the trolley.

I tell Bruce you are in charge of the trolley. When we give you something put it in the trolley. That will keep him occupied. Now I can leisurely stroll around reading food labels.

So we do this for a while and I settle down wandering around in a daze; then I look up and see he’s put a cereal pack in another trolley which is standing alone and abandoned between the cereals and the soya milks.

So I say to Bruce: Bruce which trolley did you put the cereal in? Even though I know the answer.

It’s obvious he’s put our cereal in someone else’s trolley. He doesn’t answer he just stands there, sheepishly hoping I’ll forget what I’ve just said. Fat chance. 

I repeat myself: Did you put the cereal in that trolley over there?

This time he nods. If I was thinking I would have just gone and got another packet but I wasn’t thinking.

I lean over and grab the packet from someone else’s trolley; then I stop; I slowly look up and see a lady staring at me. With my hands in her trolley. She silently stares at me — with eyes like Rottweilers—and I turn and gesticulate at Bruce, “Look he did it.”

She silently moves closer. She keeps on staring at me and keeps coming closer.

I say to the lady: He put this packet in your trolley. Look Bruce tell her what you did.

Bruce made these exaggerated chewing movements and pretends he can’t hear me. 

I then say: Okay you can have some chewing gum. Tell this lady how you put the cereal in her trolley.

Bruce says: What flavour?

I then say: You can have any flavour you like. Now tell the lady.

Bruce says nothing.

I say: You are not going to get in trouble. Just say it was an accident. It’s alright.

He shrugs his shoulders as if it’s to say who cares and turns around. The lady has reattached herself to her trolley and gone. I can see her back—which is full of withering contempt for men shopping—disappearing behind the temporary display of canned tomatoes:

Right that’s it Bruce. No chewing gum for you mate.

Meanwhile my wife has been adding chocolates and biscuits to our trolley.  They don’t break her diet restrictions because they are never on the shopping list.

I rearrange the food to hide the embarrassing junk. I place a packet of Rolled Oats on top of the chocolates and we head on.