If you ever want or need to start a spirited conversation about something other than politics, raise the issue of supermarkets. It's a guaranteed ice-breaker.
Giant, Acme, Wegman's and Whole Foods all have their fans; shoppers are happy to specify, in great detail, why they patronize a particular store (the Kennett, the Jennersville, or the Longwood Giant, for instance).
For one thing, we're such creatures of habit when it comes to shopping.
The other day I decided to bake a batch of my ginger cookies and realized halfway through that I had no molasses in the pantry. For the sake of expediency I dashed out to the closest supermarket, even though it's not my regular one.
You'd think molasses would be in the baking aisle, wouldn't you? No, it was in the cereal aisle, and there was exactly one brand of molasses next to three full rows of maple syrup.
When I shared my irritation on social media, store regulars quickly rose to its defense, arguing that the employees there are great and the deli offers the freshest lunchmeat around.
Back at my own preferred supermarket a few days later, I was in line at the customer service desk to resolve a coupon issue and noticed that both a clerk and a manager were helping a customer fill out his (multiple) lottery tickets. They seemed to be holding a Socratic dialogue on the merits of each number. People started lining up behind me, and as the minutes passed, the guy behind me was getting more and more irritated at this broad definition of "customer service."
"Hey, I need my shoes tied," he muttered to me with heavy sarcasm.
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