A Trip to the Supermarket

A dedicated family man and law-abiding citizen, Tom was a pillar of the Featherbrook Community. He was an accountant, and he took his job incredibly seriously. He didn’t just work as an accountant- he lived as an accountant. Every decision he made was carefully planned to maximize savings and efficiency.

Along with his two children, Michael and Beth, and his wife, Susanna, Tom took advantage of a beautiful Sunday afternoon to go grocery shopping. The family entered the supermarket, and Tom directed all of them over to an out-of-the-way corner of the store with little foot traffic. Tom lined his family up in front of him and gave them the trip’s pertinent information.

“Everyone gather round. Get in real close so no outsiders can hear us,” he said while putting his arms around the others. “Listen up… I’ve been planning this trip to the store for over a week. I trust you all brought the lists that I mailed to you. Don’t question the mailing process; these lists were too vital to the mission for me to just hand them to you. I don’t care if we all live in the same house, mailing is safer, and it will teach you kids the importance of being professional.”

Michael’s attention drifted and he turned to look down the aisles in the middle of the store.

“Michael!” Tom shouted at him. “Pay attention to me. Don’t look over at that display of cakes. Good gravy, didn’t you take anything away from the four hours of training we did last weekend? I need you all to focus here… Every trip to the supermarket is a battle between the forces of good and evil. Grocery stores are becoming smarter, more cunning. These employees think they can trick us six ways from Sunday, but by golly, I won’t let that happen.

Tom took his head out of the family huddle. “You won’t get me to buy any “premium” tomato sauce, I’ll tell you that much!” he yelled to no one in particular.

Susanna rolled her eyes and let out a loud sigh. “Honey, can we please just get the items on our lists? It’s almost five o’clock.”

“Susanna, don’t undermine me in front of Michael- it gives him the wrong ideas about gender roles. Michael, gosh darnit it pay attention! As I’m sure you all have noticed by now, the store is bustling with customers. What you may not have detected is that eighty percent of these people are idiots. They don’t know the first thing about shopping, and the only thing they’re good at is getting ripped off. You see that middle aged woman over by the cereal? She just picked up a box of name brand oatmeal when the off-brand is thirty-six cents less. Beth, promise your father that you will never become like that woman. No! Don’t even look at her. She doesn’t deserve your pity.”

“But I don’t like the supermarket oatmeal. It tastes funny, and the box never closes right,” 8-year-old Beth proclaimed.

“That’s just your mother’s cooking. And as far as the box goes, don’t you remember the emergency oatmeal boxes I made last summer? They were issued to each of you; you should have them. I specifically told you all to keep them in a safe place. You see what happens when you don’t listen to your father? Michael! For the last time, do not break the circle of trust,” Tom whisper yelled at his teenage son who was beginning to get antsy.

“Tom, really, it’s getting late. I’m going to go grab a shopping cart,” Susanna declared.

“That’s fine. Make sure it’s a strong one. I don’t want an inferior cart to ruin another trip to the store. Also, don’t get one with any leftover trash in it. We might run into someone we know here, and I don’t want them to get the wrong impression of us,” Tom told her as she walked off without listening to what he was saying.

Tom brought his children in closer to him. “Michael, Beth, your mother has sacrificed herself for the good of the family. Now I need you both to pay close attention to what I’m about to say. Do not, I repeat, do not, under any circumstance, vary from what is on your list. It’s all broken down into categories and each item has the correct bar code in place so that you will not have to use your own judgment in any way. We can’t afford to have children making mission-crucial decisions, such as which flavor of Gatorade to purchase. Lemon-lime was good enough for the Boy Scout camping trip, and doggone it, it’s good enough for this family. Are there any questions regarding the lists? Now is the time to ask, kids.”

“I forgot my list,” Michael said.

Tom blinked a few times while measuring up his pathetic offspring. “I’m incredibly disappointed with you, Michael. I’m even more disappointed than I was when you decided to play outfield instead of shortstop. Shortstop is the captain of the infield, Michael! Why were you so stubborn? You were so prideful you couldn’t even see your own ignorance. And what happened? We lost the championship game. Don’t tell me we lost because of a forfeit, we all know the real reason for our 2nd place trophy.”

“You didn’t even let me keep the trophy,” Michael reminded him.

“I don’t believe in 2nd place trophies,” Tom admitted. “I also don’t believe in shaking hands after the game, but I’m only one man, and the Little League rules committee is a tough nut to crack. Oh, I tried to get into their meetings. I tried to play nice. But did they so much as glance at the ninety-five theses that I tacked to the dugout wall? No, of course not. The little guy can never catch a break.” Tom paused as he replayed old events in his head. “Never mind your past failures. What we need to do now is get a list together. Luckily for all of us, I have an impeccable memory.”

Tom took a piece of paper out of his pocket and began rapidly jotting down information. He handed the paper to his son. “That should do it. Before we venture off onto our own paths, I want to tell you both something. Your father is very proud today. The lists I made are incredibly accurate and visually appealing. I just wanted you both to know how proud I am of those lists. Now go and get those groceries.”

The children wandered off and Tom made a direct b-line to the predetermined closest aisle. He swiftly flew down the aisle, head on a swivel, searching for the products he needed. As he passed an employee who was stocking the shelf, the young man smiled at him. “Hi, can I help you?”

Tom stopped abruptly. “Strike one…” he looked at the man’s nametag, “Chad.”

“I’m sorry… is there something you’re looking for?”

“Yes, perhaps you can point me in the direction of the nearest sucker, because I’m sure as heck not one,” Tom told him.

Chad tried to get back to work without incident. “Okay… I’m just going to finish stocking this shelf then…”

“Chad, don’t think I haven’t played this game before. I can tango with the best of them. I once traded in a vacuum towards the purchase of a used car. You don’t want what I can bring to the table,” Tom told the man who was now too frightened and confused to look up at him.

“That’s right,” Tom announced. “Now where’s the maple syrup?” he said out loud to himself. “Hmm… Log Cabin… no. Aunt Jemima? Ha, don’t make me laugh. Ah, the generic maple syrup.” He pulled a bottle of syrup off the shelf and waved it in front of the young man. “Guess what, Chad? I just saved forty-four cents. Bet you wish I had dipped my hand into the Log Cabin death pit, don’t ya? Too bad. You won’t be seeing these forty-four cents on your paycheck.”

Chad remained focused on his task and wished he had thought harder about going to college. Just then, Beth walked by.

Tom gestured toward her. “Beth over here, quickly! Don’t worry about Chad; just step right over him. How’s your list progressing?”

“I can’t find the bagels,” Beth informed him.

Tom shook his fist at the heavens. “They’ve probably changed the bagel placement in a concerted effort to keep people in the store longer. They know that with most people, the longer they’re in the store, the more likely they are to slip up and purchase something they don’t really need. Not with the Hemmerfields, though. For every minute I’m in the store over my expected time here, I throw one item out of my cart. I’m not falling for the oldest trick in the book,” he promised his daughter.

Beth looked down at the man stacking the shelves. “So where are the bagels?” she asked him.

Chad looked up at her. “They’re-” he started before Tom cut him off.

“Don’t ever let a salesperson know you’re interested in an item!” Tom reprimanded his daughter. “He’s going to jack the price up, now. That’s it; we’re not getting any bagels this week. Beth, come with me. Let’s go find a good checkout line.”

Tom took his daughter by the hand and half-dragged her out of the aisle as Chad let out a sigh of relief.

Carrying his one item, Tom looked for a good line to join. “Getting into the right checkout line is crucial if you want to get out of the store with your dignity in tack,” he told his daughter. “I don’t use self-checkout lines- they’re for the scum of the earth like that young kid over there. Look at his pants… they’re barely staying on his hips. I should get his name and give his parents a call about that. Oh well, never mind that now, we need to salvage what’s left of this trip.”

Susanna approached Tom and Beth with a shopping cart filled with groceries. Michael was behind her with his arms full of boxes. “Oh good, here come your mother and your brother. How’d you two do?”

“Perfectly fine. It’s just a shopping list,” Susanna reminded him.

Tom was flabbergasted. “Just a- are you kidding me? Susanna, we’ve had this talk. Your disrespect for the list is rubbing off on the kids. Michael even forgot his list this time.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael said as he looked down at the floor.

“Don’t apologize in the store,” Tom warned him. “We don’t want to show any weakness. Now let’s get into the left-most lane. People tend to gravitate towards their right, so the lane furthest left will have the least experienced cashier. Maybe she’s still too green to have been corrupted like the others.”

The family walked across the store and got into the lane Tom had suggested. They began putting their items on the conveyor belt.

“Hi, do you have everything you need?” the cashier asked.

Tom glared at her bug-eyed. “You just cost your store one item, missy. Susanna, throw away the salad dressing.”

Susanna picked up the salad dressing before placing it back down on the belt when Tom’s attention was grabbed by his son.

“Michael! Did you just look at the candy stand? Susanna, cover his eyes. I’m too ashamed to even address him right now.”

The cashier smiled at Tom. “Would you like to sign up to be a preferred customer? You get ten percent off all purchases, and-”

“I’m not signing anything. I have rights as an American,” Tom declared loudly enough for anyone in the adjacent lines to hear.

The cashier scanned all of the items as Michael and Beth bagged them. “Okay… the total will be $97.12,” she told the family.

“Luckily for us, I always have exact change,” Tom said proudly. He took out his wallet and some change from his pocket. “Wait, this dime is too shiny; I’ll be keeping that one,” he said while putting the coin back in his pocket. “Okay, there you go, $97.12 with no personal information exchanged with which to track me. Have a good night, and good luck with that sucker behind me.”

The family put the bags in their cart and walked out of the store and into the parking lot. “Kids, I hope you both have learned something today.”

“Can we stop for ice cream?” Beth asked innocently.

Tom paused in the middle of the parking lot. “I hope you enjoy being grounded as much as I enjoy grounding you,” he told her.