I feel like I just spent the last 45 minutes in a George A Romero film. Why does it seem like when I walk into Trader Joe's, I've stepped onto the set of Night of the Living Dead? From the second I get in until I'm out the door I feel like I'm trapped inside Zombieville. Could these people move any slower? Could they move at all? I think I noticed one woman standing in the same spot when I left that she was in when I arrived. Am I missing something? I know I heard moaning. I think I saw drooling. Was I supposed to check my brain at the door?
Trying to maneuver through the sea of stalled shopping carts and shoppers is a nightmare. Excuse me doesn't work. They just turn and stare at you with glazed over eyes for a few moments and then go back to fondling their package of three cheese potato gnocchi with basil garlic sauce. I reached in front of a young woman to grab a box of the lemon grass chicken sticks and tossed them in my cart. She immediately picked up the same item and turned the box over and over again as if she couldn't even determine if it was food or not. I half expected her to start sniffing and licking the package. Is it really that difficult to decide if you want the pork, vegetable or chicken potstickers? Does it take an advanced degree to decide between soy or rice milk? Lets not even go down the wine ailse; we will be there all day.
Could it be that people are so stressed out by their daily lives that making simple purchasing decisions at Trader Joe's pushes them over their mental limit? When did food get so complicated? C'mon 4 basic food groups. You know what you like to eat. You probably had the same crap last week. Just buy some more. It's not like you are even cooking the stuff. You just shove most of it in the microwave. It's not rocket science. It's a meal. Just put it in your cart and get the hell out of my way.
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