Aisle be seeing you

Some of my life’s most embarrassing moments have unfolded in the supermarket. Although the first incident I can recall clearly was my husband’s fault, the humiliation fell squarely on my shoulders.

My spouse stubbornly refused to push our grocery cart, until his retirement, when he began to peruse the supermarket flyers and decided it was time for him to take over what had previously been my job. I was happy with our role reversal until he developed the annoying habit of making unannounced side trips with the cart, sometimes leaving me with an armful of canned goods and nowhere to deposit them. One memorable grocery day he was walking slightly behind me, while I shopped in the produce section. I selected a bag of oranges and two grapefruit, reached backward and dropped them into the cart. Then, I turned to discover that I had just added these items to a complete stranger’s cart. The gentleman in question looked decidedly annoyed by my familiarity as I muttered my apologies. Once again, my husband had capered off with our cart to explore other aisles without telling me.

My next misadventure took place during the Christmas season, when supermarket aisles often feature special holiday displays. As I was pushing my heavily loaded cart down the pet food aisle, its front wheel nudged a tall, cardboard display unit with tiered shelves containing individual, foil packets of cat treats. Suddenly, the entire display collapsed, with dozens of Temptations treat packets cascading to the floor. Panicking, I looked behind me to find that no one had witnessed the incident. Considering my options for a nanosecond, I propelled my cart into the next aisle, with all possible speed, and left the scene of the accident.

Only last week, yet again, I became the victim of still another embarrassing moment in the supermarket. Once more, it took place in the pet food aisle. I had hoisted the last remaining eightkilogram bag of non-clumping cat litter into my cart and moved on to the frozen foods section, when I felt a small stone in my shoe. Balancing on one leg, I removed my Croc and shook out the offending piece of grit, then detoured back to the baked goods section. I felt another pebble in my shoe but walked on, deciding I must have picked it up in the parking lot.

When I reached checkout, the cashier prepared to scan my bag of kitty litter, then informed me that it was leaking. Before I could ask if it would be possible to tape it, she left to search for a replacement bag. When she came back empty handed, she reported that I had bought the last bag in the store. She then inquired if I would like to have the broken bag taped. I asked if much of its contents had been lost and she replied, “Yes, it’s all over the store.” Like Hansel and Gretel strewing a trail of bread crumbs, I had merrily spread kitty litter down aisle after aisle, while meandering through the supermarket. Belatedly, I realized the explanation for the pebbles in my Crocs. The litter bag had been slowly leaking its contents on my feet.

Beating a hasty retreat from the store, my humiliation became complete when I saw the cashier take up a broom and dustpan to sweep up the trail I had left behind at her checkout counter. I imagined accusing glances from the customers who had been standing directly behind me and now were forced to wait in line while the mess was cleared.

Reflecting upon my supermarket fiascos, I have reached three conclusions. First and foremost, owning a pet does not lower blood pressure and promote longevity as the experts tell us. Had I not owned cats, I would never have been shopping in the pet food section. I have also concluded that end-of-aisle cardboard displays are accidents in the making. The lightest bump from a shopping cart can send them flying. Finally, I have reasoned that when the worst happens and a display is knocked over or a stranger’s cart becomes the repository for foreign goods, the best course of action is to disappear down the next aisle as quickly as possible. Explanations are not welcome in these situations where the perpetrator also becomes a hapless victim.

Following my latest escapade with the leaking litter bag, I am left red-faced, with a firm resolution to begin buying kitty’s bathroom essentials in plastic jugs.