Let's be the supermarket!

I’m the idiot straight guy who thinks it would be hilarious to fart into the store’s microphone.

I'm the entire family of fatasses moving at a glacial pace and blocking the aisle.

I'm the frau with forty-six different coupons. As the bored high school student rings me out, I stare intently at the register totals and interrupt after every item. "But the sign said those were buy one, get one free." Inevitably, a manager will be called at some point during my transaction.

Everyone behind me in line despises me.

I am Dorothy Kilgallen. I would know nothing about this thread.

I'm the red weirdo

I'm the pervert in aisle four hanging looking for a kid to snatch.

whaay

I'm the white-gloved Hollywood movie star and young mother.

I'm the customers who swap the discount stickers from the old meat to pricey cuts of meat, thinking we won't notice.

We always notice, and catching you gives us life.

I’m the incessant reminder to someone to “Close the loading dock door!” on the loudspeaker at DC’s Soviet Safeway.

I'm the clean-up in aisle 6.

I'm the chopped up pieces of sausage with toothpicks in them on a table near the deli counter.

When you try one, the Frau handing them out looks pissed that you didn't buy a whole sausage.

I'm the special needs kid bagging the groceries.

to pass the time, i actually do a running funny (for me at least) commentary out loud on the speaker announcement! laugh...

I’m the Muzak.

R9

Ditto with the organic vs. regular fruit

I'm the self-checkout, which is really multiple registers being run by one cashier who has to assist almost every customer.

I'm the automated voice at the self-checkout reminding you to "place your item in the bagging area."

I’m the wonky wheel on the cart. Y’all hate me, but I do nothing but laugh all day because your fat asses won’t go back out and pick a different cart.

i'm the cashier on their feet the entire time and who also have to bag the groceries because the actual bagger only 1 at a time has to monitor multiple conveyer belts..

You people are calling in from 1975. Muzak?

I’m all the products with older sell-by-dates, pushed right up front, hoping to be picked first.

I'm the annoying voice on the self check-out register that says "Unexpected item in bagging area" after every scan.

I'm that toddler that you hear incessantly crying the entire time you're in the store.

I'm one of the multiple white haired women shopping on Friday afternoon because I've done this for 50 years. Its not like I don't do anything all day long. 👵

I also pay with a check.

I am the voice in the self check out register, glad I caught another dirtball like R23 trying to get out of the store without paying for shit.

Job security.

I'm...Elaine

[quote]I’m the incessant reminder to someone to “Close the loading dock door!” on the loudspeaker at DC’s Soviet Safeway.

Is that the 17th Street Soviet Safeway or the Cleveland Park Soviet Safeway?

^ at 6:08

I’m the 17 year old forced to work the bakery counter since Myra called in sick and, no, I don’t give a shit if I spelled Bralynn’s name wrong on his birthday cake.

I'm the frau in training wearing yoga pants who is loading five bags of broccoli into her shopping cart.

I'm the fraus with no concept whatsoever that other people exist. The end of this aisle is the perfect place for our chat.

I'm Karen ready to give r29 hell because he gave Bralynn a peanut butter cookie when I specifically asked for chocolate chip! YOU IDIOT SHE HAS A SEVERE PEANUT ALLERGY, SHE COULD DIE!! WHERE THE HELL IS MYRA? SHE KNOWS BETTER THAN TO GIVE OUT PEANUT BUTTER COOKIES.

I'm sorry, I'm Karen giving r29 hell.

R30, dammit.

R28, that’s the 17th and Corcoran Safeway, comrade.

I am the arrows on the floor during the pandemic that no one pays attention to.

I'm the guy with one item in his hand standing in line behind a person with an overflowing shopping cart despite the self-checkout and 15 items or less stations that are 10 feet away.

I am soft lighting, lack of weird supermarket smell, and pleasant atmosphere.

I'm the lazy bum who leaves his cart in an empty parking spot.

I am never r38.

I'm the passive aggressive signs reminding customers to somehow stay 6 ft. apart in jam packed store.

I'm the coin counter machine. I take 20 percent. I used to be the job of banks!

I am that cool edgy alternative hit song playlist from 1992 that is now playing as background music on the sound system. At first you go, oh this is cool they're playing good music in this store... then you realize... gurl, you old.

I'm the straight guy on the phone with my frau wife. She asked me to stop on my way home from work. I need to bring home baking powder and cilantro and I have no idea where to find them, let alone what they are.

r27 at proper time....sorry.

I’m the PA system, telling Fernando to clean up “wet breakage” in aisle four.

I'm the E.coli and Campylobactor jejuni bacteria juice on the checkout conveyer belt.

I'm the quick return you need to make at the customer service desk, that should take one minute, but you're stuck behind the gambling addict who's buying their lottery tickets.

[quote]When you try one, the Frau handing them out looks pissed that you didn't buy a whole sausage.

I'm the Frau's husband, playing with his whole sausage in the men's room while trying to catch a glimpse of the hot bag boys.

I'm Bralynn and I managed the fastest transition in history between R30 and R33.

Now I want a thread, "Let's be Bralynn and his/her mom Karen at the Supermarket"

I'm the fat whore who keeps circling back, again and again, to the free sample stations. I'm trying to be discreet about it but it's obvious the employees manning those stations know my game.

I am...

I'm the people at the back of the check-out line who go rushing to the front of the line when a clerk opens up a new check-out line. Why can't the clerk say, "the NEXT person in line can come over here"?

How are you today? You doing good? I am the hot chicken server. If I recognize you as a regular I sift thru the chicken for the best, biggest, juiciest breast. If I do not recognize you I give you the easiest one to get to.

I’m Karen. No, I WILL NOT WEAR A FUCKING MASK, AND NONE OF YOU SHEEPLE WILL MAKE ME! THIS USED TO BE A FREE COUNTRY BEFORE THE COMMIE KENYAN TOOK OVER!!! OW! LET ME GO! I’LL SUE!

MAGA!

I'm Karen. I brought all four of my kids and my husband with me. My husband could have stayed home with the kids, but we thought a trip to the store would be quality time. It's not my fault that my kids knocked over that display of boxes; the store should have made it more sturdy. Also, it's the store's fault my kids are pumped up; they must have eaten a few dozen pieces of candy from the bulk food section. How dare the store tempt kids with candy that's so easy to reach. Now we're at the check-out line, and I'm letting my kids scan and bag the items...and swipe the credit card to pay. Sure, it takes twice as long, but isn't it cute? Please back up a few feet; I've live-streaming this on Facebook.

I'm the third world immigrant family straight off the boat. Mom, dad, grandma, grandpa, four kids and what could possibly be three cousins. Every item in the store is taken off the shelf and thoroughly inspected by the entire family before a decision is made about purchasing it.

I am the incredibly rude family with obnoxious children who loudly DEMAND to eat crisps/bicscuits/cream cakes RIGHT NOW.

The packages shall be opened and the little nightmares will stuff their faces like there is no tomorrow, but we won't pay for what the kids have eaten: empty packages will be not-so-discreetly discarded before we reach the checkout, and we will aggressively stare at anyone who dares to look at us disapprovingly.

If an employee asks us to pay for what the children have eaten, we will make a huge scene and indignantly proclaim our innocence... All the while, the £1.50 package of doughnuts is crumpled a mere five feet away from where we're standing.

I’m the melting frozen dinner taken from the freezer and then abandoned on a shelf in the beverage aisle. I’ll go unnoticed for weeks.

I'm the empty condom boxes lying on the shelves. And also the empty sudafed boxes. Someone is making meth and getting laid.

I'm Jeffrey Toobin, killing time by jerking my cock in the "Cookies and Crackers" aisle.

I'm diet soda. You'll rarely see skinny people put me in their carts, usually just the fatties. They somehow think I will make them lose weight.

I'm the married men cruising in the produce section.

I'm the large cucumber.

I'm this book, [italic]The Secret Life of Groceries[/italic] , by Benjamin Lorr.

I'm this book, [italic]The Secret Life of Groceries[/italic] , by Benjamin Lorr.

R68; your twin brother was just here.

I’m the electric scooters on its last legs thanks to the fatties who take advantage of me.

I'm your local Chicagoland Butera. I smell like mop water that's been used in the meat and produce sections.

I'm the 1975 supermarket playlist. Enjoy!

I'm a cunt who doesn't say "excuse me" and just pushes my cart directly into other people to get them to move.

I am the motorbike being rided by the fatass.

I am Karen's hairstyle

I'm the ironically snobby older gentleman working the checkout counter.

I’m “Raven 2 years” the MTF trans checkout clerk who isn’t quite there yet. My long, beautiful hair is sewn into my (store mandated) baseball cap. My makeup, to put it kindly, is still a work in progress and I always need a manicure.

That said, I keep those checkout lines moving!

I'm the abandoned cart in Aisle 11. I contain strawberry creme wafer cookies, Café Bustelo instant coffee, and a store ad from last week.

i'm the persons who NEVER EVER EVER say "excuse" me when they literally walk right in front of me a foot away (you know never that whole pandemic thing going on) and/or who stop in front of me blocking my view of a product, or who almost lean over me without saying anything to get to what they want....and the person who can't wait their turn when asking a employee a question while they are already helping me with a question and they blurt out their question and needs..

I'm the palpable stench letting you know there's a fish counter somewhere near...Or Cheryl.

I am the stooped over, ancient, old white lady - I am paying with a check that I am very slowly taking out of my purse. This will take all day.

I am the toilet paper aisle. Soon I will be ransacked by fraus who refuse to wear a mask - but are terrified wave 2 of COVID will give their families explosive shits!

[quote]I am the motorbike being rided by the fatass.

That requires more than the customary "oh, dear."

OMFG!

I'm the grocery store public restrooms. After several unfortunate incidents involving a previously regular customer getting caught masturbating in the restroom out in the open in the nude (whilst filming for his XTube channel, no less), both the male and female bathrooms are now locked and are only able to be unlocked by a manager at their discretion. The only people who ask to use the bathrooms now are homeless people with backpacks who end up taking bird baths in the restroom.

I'm the xl jar of silver balls by a brand you've never heard of. I'm on the shelf in an independent Turk run grocery store in the Bay Area. You are tempted to buy me because grandma's xmas cookies call for me, and I'm banned in chain supermarkets and handsome Ahmet always has his kids in the store and seems like a nice guy so he wouldn't sell poison, would he?

I’m r84’s masturbator.

Sorry to have ruined it for you. My bad.

I’m the salad bar. I’m filled disposable face masks labeled “$5.99 each — Special!”, hand sanitizer in tiny bottles, and toilet paper that looks like a familiar brand but only from far away. I still have full bins of individually-wrapped forks and spoons. Where’d all my friends and the tarragon chicken salad go?

[quote] I'm the self-checkout, which is really multiple registers being run by one cashier who has to assist almost every customer.

I'm the one cashier who is supposed to be manning the self-checkouts, but I am nowhere to be found, even as the self-checkouts are failing, leaving customers stranded while the automated voice keeps repeating that "Help is on the way."

r88 Help is usually gossiping with other help about their boyfriends, their weekends, and "this bitch in the Lysol aisle."

I am the angry clerk with the tattooed face, currently on work release, sponsored by a local church. I like to silently scowl at the customers, leaving them thoroughly intimidated. Please support my efforts to assimilate back into society, motherfuckers.

I'm Naomi Harper.

[quote] Where’d all my friends and the tarragon chicken salad go?

You and he don’t get along?

I’m the basin of lettuce and I thought we were all friends.

I am the deli clerk who wants to know your whole order upfront, then proceeds to ask you to repeat it as she fills the order.

I’m the thin tiny plastic bags for you to store your fruit and vegetables while shopping. I’m a bitch to open and I’m honored to make you feel stupid as you stand there for 10 minutes trying.

I am the deli "salads" which consist of leftover toppings from yesterday's salad bar tossed in mayonnaise.

The elderly ladies love me- so much variety!

I’m the deli clerk, Wanda, from R93. I’ve been in this town my entire life, work 60 hours a week and all I want is my smoke break. I don’t care about your order even though this hat makes me look professional.

I’m the toilet pap—

I’m gone.

I'm non-Iodized mined table salt. A very inexpensive beauty secret for your bath. Just add a drop or two of the essential oil that matches your need.

I'm the number you still have to take even though there is only one other person at the deli counter who already seems to be finished.

I'm the person you're stuck behind at the deli counter who's ordering enough for an army. This is going to take awhile.

I'm the hipster couple taking way too long to locate an ingredient.

I'm the ORGANIC aisle, an aisle that contains foods that upper-middle class white people believe has magical properties and will prevent every disease known to humanity and make them live to be 112.

I'm cat milk.

I'm the back-to-school sale on knives.

I'm today's special in the meat department.

I'm Honey-Nut Cheerios -- now in the new Chrissy Metz-Size box.

I'm the faggots.

I'm Walter White, artisanal baker.

I’m that smell near the meat counter.

I'm the crunchy granola black, brown and other people that also shop in aisle R102.

I'm the drunk in the snack aisle. Your whole family is out to be executed!

I'm the frau eating a birthday cake in the toilet stall. Re: R111 "The owner of the store has treated me to cake. You haven't been told?"

I’m the stupid state liquor laws which don’t allow teenage cashiers (the vast majority in the store) to even touch wine and beer long enough to ring it up, necessitating a call to the manager every time they come through the line. This quadruples the duration of your “quick” trip, especially when everyone else seems to be buying booze too.

I'm the lobster tank.

I'm the little mini cart filled with bags of groceries you see your senior citizen neighbors pushing from their detached garage to their front door after they return from the supermarket. You smile and giggle to yourself as you picture them in the market parking lot throwing the cart into their van and driving out the lot all shifty eyed and shit.

I'm the message over the intercom:

"CLEAN UP ON AISLE THIRTEEN - AGAIN!!"

I'm the 250 pound women in yoga pants who always complains she can't lose weight. My cart is loaded with hoe-hoes, ding-dongs, chips, ice-cream. I will also buy one head of iceburg lettuce which I plan to eat at every meal this week to jump start my weight loss. Also, a 32 oz. bottle of ranch dressing.

I'm the cleaning aisle. I provide bleach after you have viewed r116

I'm an Indian migrant 'slipping' on a rogue grape in the fruit department and I'm going to sue!

I'm the 'ANUSOL' entry that will come up on the self-check out screen.

I'm the Cultural Revolution-era Chinese woman in the dairy section. I recently moved in with my son, who is a professor of physics at the nearby state university. I have five separate egg cartons opened. I am inspecting each carton, removing the largest eggs, and putting them in the carton that I will ultimately purchase.

I am the bakery department, full of sloppily decorated quarter sheet cakes with lumpy blue roses and scraggly leaves. Some kid has pushed against the cellophane box top and squished all the roses he can reach. There is a table piled with boxes of seasonal cupcakes with lurid dollops of colored frosting and sprinkles on top. The same kid squished all the cupcakes against the plastic containers.

I’m the International Foods aisle where you’ll find guava paste, oyster sauce and matzo.

I am the kid from R122. My home life is a catastrophe, and I'm just acting out.

I'm the evil checkout clerk who shouts "I need a price check on Trojans - Extra Small" into the loudspeaker when her ex-boyfriend comes through.

I'm the yuppie taking a business call on the ear device who you think is talking to himself or you, at first.

I'm the nametag. Tanner - 1 Year. Brandon - 2 Years. Marge - 23 Years.

I'm the gigantic potato latkes at the kosher counter. I'm right next to the knishes.

I'm the announcement containing the secret code word for "Security Alert! Someone is stealing Spam on Aisle 2"

I'm R117, coming back again, because I realized I forgot the generic 3-litre sodas...they're on sale for 99 cents!

I’m the Employee of the Month wall near the bathrooms which share a hallway with the break room. My photos are faded and haven’t been updated in 5 years.

I'm myself when some sour faced older woman asked me to get something for her on the top shelf. She couldn't reach it. I hand it to her good naturedly, but she ignores me when she takes it from me, and does NOT say thanks. When she turns her back, I take it out her cart and put it on the shelf again!

I'm the sad middle-aged customer who is often mistaken for a clerk by other customers. They apologize when I tell them I don't work here, but in my mind, I am murdering them.

I’m duck sauce. I hope I’m in r123 because why the FUCK would you put me with salad dressing?

I'm the conveyor belt at checkout coated with mystery fluids.

I'm the unwashed grape that your mother samples.

I’m scowling at the defiant anti-masker bitch who I’ve avoided all over the store only to have her jump into the shortest line. And, making matters even more enraging, it’s the line with the HOT cashier named Owen who I love to flirt with.

I'm the two supermarkets in town - the one where white people shop, and the one where white people USED to shop.

I'm me when I was 17 collecting carriages in all weather in my Doc Martens, khakis, cheap Walmart white shirt and ugly tie, wallet chain and new ear piercings, thinking I looked cool. Meeting kids from other towns for the first time, hanging out in their cars after work drinking iced lattes and smoking.

I'm everything in this 1980 Grocery Store Training Video.

Keep a lookout at the 1:30 mark for a possible POO SHOES sighting.

I'm the drunk middle-aged queen buying a single large cucumber at 4 AM on a Saturday night at the all night supermarket.

I’m the young Latina mother of four in line ahead of you. I’ll be paying for a cartload of milk, juice, bread and formula using a bunch of WIC checks. Lo siento señor, but this will require several separate, torturously slow transactions. By the time I’m through, you will have had some shockingly sexist, snobbish and racist thoughts.

We’re the four stoners in a semi-circle around the Entenmann’s display at midnight.

Everything looks good. We’re paralyzed by so many choices.

[quote]By the time I’m through, you will have had some shockingly sexist, snobbish and racist thoughts.

"Stop having kids, you stupid puta! We're tired of supporting you with our tax dollars!"

Hi, this is Rose. I’m just wondering why the guy at r141 is only buying one cucumber. That won’t make a whole salad. Um, ok, bye.

I'm the person who takes your cart by mistake.

R141 Enjoy your salad.

Ooh an olive bar!

I'm the manager's office where I used to suck off my very hot daddy general manager once or twice a week.

I'm the whole 14lb Cumberland Gap ham that just fell to the floor from under the Mumu is some morbidly obese woman in the check-out who was only buying a pack of Dentyne.

Omg Frick’s ham steak!

I am the super huge bodybuilder in spandex walking down the aisle hunched over my cart that is filled to the top with meat and eggs and showing off my gargantuan ass that looks like two beach balls fighting for space.

I’m the grody restrooms that everybody takes a dump in.

Interesting that all of those markets listed at the end of R140's video have long since gone out of business (I think). Guess that training didn't really do the trick now, did it?

I'm the rib eye steak tucked up tight inside Babs Johnson's own little oven. She's the filthiest person in this supermarket!

I'm the security staff who just can't understand why we catch no shop lifters. The numbers don't lie, so we know it's happening. Ah! There goes the store Manager again carrying yet another huge box of donations for the poor. GREAT GUY!

I'm the box of holiday themed napkins in the clearance aisle.

I'm the "Day Old" bakery items which are actually over a week old.

We didn’t say what day.

I'm the DLer that takes a banana, peels it, eats it and then disposes of the banana peel before he leaves the supermarket.

I'm the kid who works in the store, sitting in my car on break eating Doritos and drinking a Red Bull.

I’m the coin operated mechanical horse ride out front.

I'm the claw-crane game machine in the entranceway. Amazingly, you see people playing me sometimes.

I'm the little plastic toys, fake tattoo stickers and gumballs and candy inside the coin-operated machines next to the claw crane. We might have been trapped in here since the 1980's.

I'm the community bulletin board above the coin operated machines. Need cleaning services, babysitting, lawn care or junk removal? How about a lawyer? Electrolysis?

I'm the announcement at 8:55pm that you have five minutes to bring beer to the checkout before alcohol sales stop for the night. Wine and hard liquor are not allowed to be sold here, just beer.

I’m the tabloids in the checkout aisle. I’ve been reporting on Hillary’s alien baby and Queen Elizabeth’s sad last days for over two decades. You’ll buy me anyway.

I'm the buckets of carnations.

I'm the celebrities on all the magazine covers at the checkout. You don't know who half of them are. And you really don't care.

I'm the shelf upon shelf of pita bread. No one wants me, but I'm always there waiting, hoping that someone will take pity on me and place me in their cart.

I'm the slot machines in the little room off the entrance to every supermarket in Nevada.

Hi, I'm Meaghan your over eager cashier! I hope you found everything okay! Would you like this bag of Reese's Pieces left out or do you want me to bag it? I'd like to remind you that you are only 12 points away from getting 10 cents off a gallon of gas! Would you like help out with your bags? Thank you for shopping here, come again!

I’m the “charity” that you’re asked to donate to at checkout.

I’m the asshole who parks in the fire zone because I’m just running in for a minute, in spite of the fact the store just opened so the parking lot is virtually empty and there’s 5 spots within 10 feet.

I’m an entitled dick.

I'm the canned vegetables and fruit that used to take up a large part of the store, and are now are lonely and neglected in a small section of a middle aisle.

R134. I’m the iceberg lettuce and LaChoy chow mein noodles that will be smothered with duck sauce in order to make the “Asian salad” on page 42 of the spiral bound “Cooking with Christ” cookbook from the Women’s Guild of the Paducah, Kentucky Full Faith Bible Baptist Church.

I'm the now 60-somethings who have known each other since grade school running into each other, loudly stating, "______? Is that you? Oh my god, how aaaaaare you?!"

Couples, single, widowed, etc. They're mostly fat and old now, and the one thing they have in common is they've never left this town. How long has it been? In most cases not long enough as most of these people hate each other but are now forced to play friendly next to the ground beef isle. Their individual small town secrets could set the place on fire!

I'm the crazy guy next to you in the self-checkout, arguing with the automated voice:

"Please scan the next item"

"I haven't scanned the FIRST item, YET!"

Please remove the last item from the bag and scan it"

"OH, HEEEEELL NO! YOU TRYNA SAY I STOLE SUMPTHIN???"

"Please wait for assistance from the cashier - Help is on the way"

"IF ANYBODY NEEDS HELP, IT'S **YOU, BITCH!!**"

We are the power ballads by Air Supply and Journey that replaced Muzak around 1992. We will be interspersed with a small selection of 1960s oldies, mainly Motown and The Beach Boys, some of the least psychedelic Beatles songs, and occasionally “Downtown” by Petula Clark. Once the 20-year nostalgia cycle hits disco, “The Hustle” will enter the mix despite the manager’s misgivings.

I’m the 78 year old man getting arrested after being stabbed in the parking lot by my transgender girlfriend.

I'm the alcoholics racing to get their booze five minutes before alcohol sales are stopped for the night.

[quote] I'm the canned vegetables and fruit that used to take up a large part of the store, and are now are lonely and neglected in a small section of a middle aisle.

We are the fresh, organic vegetables who took their place. And to think that for years you made fun of the “hippie dippy“ store on the other side of town for doing the same thing three decades earlier!

I'm the customer who probably has hyperthyroidism and definitely has the resulting crazy, mean attitude and eyes to match. I insist on using six store coupons even though the limit is three per customer. Don't you even think about challenging me.

I'm Wanda the 63 year old deli clerk. I've been here since 1978 and everyone in town knows me and I know their orders by heart. If you dont see me you can hear my cough from a mile away. I just cut my hours to part time, but still take smoke breaks every 45 minutes like clock work. I drive the old Toyota Camry parked close to the front of the store. Normally employees have to park what seems like a mile away, but the store manager lets me park closer to the store. I knew that kid when he was a 15 year old bag boy.

I’m the vinyl coin purse pulled out the old man’s Sansabelt pants. It will take 4 minutes to extract exact change from me.

I'm the self-serve lottery ticket vending machine next to the Coinstar. I've cut down on service counter lottery ticket purchases a little, but not as much as you'd think.

I am the litany of poorly-written People [italic]Maga[/italic]zine ripoffs all covering the same basic bitches every goddamn week.

I'm the store brand, often just as good the "real thing" and considerably cheaper or at least totally acceptable because you don't care that much about the item you're buying. But, all of you have varying specific items for which I am just not good enough.

I'm the weird little man who tries to use Milky Way Ice Cream Bar coupons to pay for regular MW candy bars, and other coupons to pay for other similar but lesser-priced items. When told I can't do that, I sheepishly say with a smile, "I was trying to make a profit," and walk out of the store.

I’m a fat, pregnant Mexican woman buying ice cream, cake, cola, and cookies for her for equally fat children and her fifth one who is sure to be just as fat. In spite of this, I still feel like wearing tight black leggings in public.

Four

[quote]We are the fresh, organic vegetables who took their place. And to think that for years you made fun of the “hippie dippy“ store on the other side of town for doing the same thing three decades earlier!

We're fresh vegetables that have always been in supermarket who realize it's frozen vegetables that have taken the place of canned, not us.

I’m r193 and I found r184’s story really cool and nostalgic for some reason.

I know, I know...MARY!!

I'm genderfluid and nonbinary.

I’m part of the stock team and I’m seemingly here at all hours. Ma’am, I don’t care if you need to get down this aisle, I gotta unload these boxes of Cinnamon Toast Crunch!

I’m r195’s U-boat full of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and a bunch of other shit. I’m conveniently parked diagonally across the aisle to ensure no paying customer can get down the aisle. If they squeeze past—or worse, move me—r195 will give them the stink eye for me.

I'm the theme from "Mission Impossible," and some people actually play me in their heads as they zig-zag , bob n weave, and jump hurdles just to get some grocery shopping done at what's known as the Wal-Mart Super Center!

I'm the small display of "Free fruit. One piece per child." Nobody will touch me.

I am the exact item you drove to the store for.

I am out of stock.

There is no more in the back.

I might be back in stock on Thursday of next week.

I’m all the other shit r199 will pick up anyway because, “hey, I’m here already.”

We're Madysyn and Jaydyn, touching all the produce with our snot-encrusted hands.

I’m the meat counter in an ethnic market. You have to visit me to find the necessary items to make proper broth or stock. I also feature tripe and brains.

We're the spices in clear bags for 99 cents per bag, in the Mexican foods, "Hispanic foods" or "Ethnic foods" aisle.

We're also available in glass jars for $7.49 each, in the regular spices section of the baking aisle, if you prefer.

I'm the valid coupons you find from time to time laying in front of some of the products on your shopping list. I make you think "It's so great that my store has a coupon fairy."

I’m the Instacart shoppers clogging up the narrow aisles with their gigantic wagons for people who can’t be arsed to shop for themselves.

I’m the 16 year old babysitter of Madysyn and Jaydyn from R201. I’m really excited about my new license so I packed the girls in my dad’s truck just to buy some flamin hot Cheetos and swipe this Maybelline mascara.

I’m pre-packaged “supermarket sushi!” I just started getting stocked a few years ago in a chilled contained at the end of the isle near the fish. Aren’t I exotic? You get chopsticks, packets of soy sauce and little plastic grad things, all in a plastic pouch. Adorable! I taste absolutely terrible.

I’d go for my vegan veggie rolls or California rolls if I were you. Or you can get the salmon sashimi one IF YOU DARE

*container

I’m a quarter you need to get a shopping crate at ALDI. I have been the subject of numerous bitchy posts on Datalounge.

[quote]"It's so great that my store has a coupon fairy."

You should see the HABA manager. Talk about fairy.

[quote] at the end of the isle near the fish.

Well, yes, you are exotic if you came from an isle.

Now, if you’re in an aisle in a grocery store, not so much.

Isn’t Lesbos the fish isle?

I’m too scared to look.

I made so many typos on that sushi post LOL!

It’s an ode to 50-something queens like me occasionally trying to post on DL using their iPhones, without reading glasses. Hopeless!

Ho1,&:8hg!!

I love ya anyway, r214!

I am the boxes of matzah labeled “not kosher for Passover.” I am growing concerned that no one will ever buy me, even after the inevitable markdown. I am so so jealous of the box of bite-size cracker-style matzahs with the Everything Bagel seasoning. That little tarted-up hussy.

I'm the three all purpose gag cards in the tiny stationery section. We date from the 90s, we're yellowed and dingy, and we offer more wit than R190's heavy and humorless racist snark, dating from the 70s.

In the old men selling Memorial Day poppies for the VFW. Were as old as the WWII vets were in 1993.

Yes r218 it's somehow strange that Vietnam vets are geriatric now. I don't know why.

The WWII vets are pretty much gone.

R219: "it's somehow strange that Vietnam vets are geriatric now. I don't know why."

Could it be the half-century since they were in Vietnam?

R152!..... sounds good, REALLY GOOD AND HOT to me! lol!...

I’m that guy from a sex party you forgot about. I call out “hi, remember me?! We, um, ‘met’ at Kevin’s place last summer...” loudly from the next checkout line with those audible quotes around “met.” May you should respond before I clarify further.

R222 Awkward!

I'm the overweight frau in her mid-50s. I'm not fat enough for a scooter, but as I meander up and down the aisles I learn forward and put all my weight on the cart.

OP I just found this thread and I LOVE IT! Thank you!

You're welcome r225 :-)

"Special today: In our meat department: Meat!"

I'm a box of Wheat Thins, and I miss Sandy Duncan.

I'm Geoffrey Owens. Remember me? I played Sondra's husband on "The Cosby Show." I work here now. Please don't ask me about Bill.

I'm the "ethnic foods" section, and I'm basically just made up of taco shells, taco seasoning, and one expired box of instant pad thai.

I'm the gentle mist in the produce section.

I'm Kathy Bates.

I'm older and I have more insurance.

"I'm a box of Wheat Thins, and I miss Sandy Duncan. "

We're all of your relatively young tarted-up siblings in a variety of flavors. Because the world needs tomato and basil wheat thins.

[quote] I'm the "ethnic foods" section, and I'm basically just made up of taco shells, taco seasoning, and one expired box of instant pad thai.

And duck sauce.

It's just sort of weird that this (OP) literally happened to me this morning... it was so loud, so grating... and the meat department. And now I log into DL and this is the 3rd post on my feed? Hmmm.... Coincidence? I think not.

R231 Not post-COVID! At least in all the grocery stores I frequent. Dry as a bone.

I'd be curious to know if other DL-ers have had the mist turned off in their produce sections of their grocery stores, after COVID?

r235 I always feel like the employees making those announcements try to sound as unhappy-with-their-jobs as possible. Either that, or having to make the announcement is the greatest inconvenience of their year.

Good riddance R236. I never understood the over-use of this weird gimmick.

*P-s-s-s-t-t!* "Oh look! It's turning on!"

What, are we in Las Vegas?

R236 I hate that thing! How many of you have I been inadvertently showered by this while trying to pick something out? Everything sopping wet. Even soaking plastic bags of kale and collard greens. What?

It's largely unnecessary. Some leafy greens might benefit from misting, but most proper fresh produce shouldn't need it. In fact it probably promotes rot, and as you pointed out isn't exactly sanitary.

I’ll let you know tomorrow, r236.

Seriously, I have to stop at the store where I’ll check and hopefully get more fodder for this thread.

I love this thread - thank you, OP!!

You're welcome, r241!!

I'm the cart lobby - also home to Boy Scouts selling wreaths, Salvation Army kettles, Veterans selling poppies, Girl Scout cookie sales, addiction centers selling candy bars. You can't avoid me.

I'm the Frau for whom the packaged sushi that R207 mocks is the highlight of my week.

I get it every Wednesday for lunch and wolf down all that synthetic crab and rice and green wasabi paste in my cubicle at work.

My diet starts tomorrow.

I’m r244’s work chair.

You don’t want to be anywhere near me on Thursday.

[quote]I'm the cart lobby - also home to Boy Scouts selling wreaths, Salvation Army kettles, Veterans selling poppies, Girl Scout cookie sales, addiction centers selling candy bars. You can't avoid me.

You must be somewhere that has inclement weather. In California, those things are always outside the store.

I thought r244 was about to say eat all the green plastic garnish.

I'm the following conversation that occurred recently between me and a checker:

CHECKER (ringing up my purchase of a 12-pack of Coke Zero® and a small bag of frozen peas): Would you like some help out to your car with that?

ME: No, that's okay. I have a forklift waiting outside, because my car's on the other side of the lot and I may not make it.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I'm the free floor show provided by customers who are drunk, deluded, or mentally disabled. One evening I was standing in line at my neighborhood Vons, and the lady in front of me tried to buy a tube of toothpaste or something with one of those multimillion "checks" sent out to everyone from the Publisher's Clearing House. She wanted the remainder of the check in cash.

She was very politely told that the "check" was, in fact, no good, but she became insistent. The manager was called over. He listened to her for about a minute, then took the check and ripped it into little pieces. Apparently, the lady had been coming in several times a day to try and get her "check" cashed, and the manager finally got fed up with it.

R248 Regarding your first comment: You sound like a douche. The clerk is numb at that point and only repeating what she/he has been saying all day. Aren't you the clever cunt...

r249 If the clerk is that immune to what is going on before her very eyes, then she has my sympathy, but one should have the ability to ascertain whether help is actually needed. I guess perception isn't among your skills?

I'M THE (AND YES THIS ACTUALLY HAPPENED TO ME A COUPLE OF DAYS AGO!) who had to put up with this young woman who 1) stood in the middle of the aisle on her cell phone and when i asked her twice "excuse me" just kept on talking, didn't move a inch, so i had to go around her as best as i could... then 2) a few moments later i'm first in line, no one behind him, waiting for the cashier to call out and say next, i see this same young woman, about 15 feet away picking up candy and then she walks past me and says "i was in line!" and then 3) she walks up and down past the check out lanes trying to get someone to wait on her, when the cashiers were checking others out and she wasn't even called!......

the idea that as a older gentleman she would differ to me never remotely crossed her mind and of course i'm too much of a manners wimp to have done anything about it! ..

I’m the box of store brand fish sticks with a hot pink “Special! 50% off!!” sticker, and a package design that’s different from all the boxes behind me with no sticker. Try me!

R251, I would have rammed her cart with my cart. That is the only way they will learn.

Like r253, I have no compunction about bumping a cart out of my way. It doesn't happen that often, as I always use a small cart, and I always say "excuse me," but yeah, I'll bump if I have to.

I am the person that leaves their cart in the middle of the aisle at an angle thus blocking the aisle. I realize this as you are approaching. I move my cart to the side as I say sorry. We end up repeating this same routine in two other aisles before we leave. I just do not understand why you are grumpy.

R253 and R254..i forgot to mention she didn't even HAVE a cart! she literally had junkfood in her hands, (not even in a basket, since baskets are banned in the store)...it would be different if she herself had a cart when she didn't move when she was on her phone and i said excuse me twice, it would be different if she had a cart and at the front of the line and then stepped away a few feet away to pick up that junk food in her hands and then put it in her cart! how is someone in line when they don't have a cart and walk away from the line????????!!!!!!!!

pure stupidity or trash or both?

I'm the large Diet Coke display that you have to pass before entering the chip aisle.

I am the asshole who gets on line at the checkout and disappears to get more groceries several times.

That maneuver doesn't bother me so much, r258. I usually end up going in front of that asshole.

[quote] of course i'm too much of a manners wimp to have done anything about it!

R251 You are NOT a manners wimp. You are a gentleman who was treated poorly by a thoughtless bitch. Some other bitch will take her out later in the day, probably her own daughter.

R258 I'm the guy who pushes your cart out of line while you go chasing the Chips Ahoy you now craved. If I'm with a friend, one of us pushes your cart to middle of Aisle 3 and abandons it there.

Forgetting one item is reasonable, but getting off the line and having your shopping cart as a place marker multiple times means you are not done shopping. There is this woman who shops at the Trader Joe's on 14th Street in NYC and she tried this with me leaving her basket to mark her place, and when she left the third time I kicked it far into the adjoining aisle. She started a fuss when she returned and it was missing. I told her to finish her shopping and then get on the line and stop asking privileged and disrespectful to those waiting their turn patiently. She gave me the finger and tried to get back on line, and this large black woman behind me told her she will be wearing the basket as a hat if she cuts in ahead of her.

I'm the cunt who buys 2 croissants at the bakery, eats them both while shopping, and throws away the bag before I check out.

Une voyage a lá supermarchete!

Pardonnez-moi!

I am the selfish jerk who is fourth in line at the register but when another register opens up I rush over to be first.

I'm the mega-supermarket that includes a Supercuts, a DQ, a nail salon, and a failing yogurt place.

My 'fresh' produce hasn't been replaced in a week.

[quote] didn't move a inch,

[quote]the idea that as a older gentleman she would differ to me never remotely crossed her mind

Maybe she knew you didn’t know articles or what the word defer means and didn’t think you were worth her time.

[quote] I'm the cunt who buys 2 croissants at the bakery, eats them both while shopping, and throws away the bag before I check out.

R263, what the hell is wrong with this? If the person bought them when should they eat them so it’ll please you?

R269 Bad me. I didn't explain correctly. I "chose" them at the bakery, they were bagged at the bakery, to be purchased later at checkout. I ate them while doing the rest of my shopping and threw away the bag and bill before hitting the checkout.

Ah, I gotchu, r270.

And just to stay with the theme of the thread:

I’m the muck and filth on the credit card reader at the self-help lane.

I’m r272, and I promised r236 a report.

The misters were off.

R266

I hope you get 1000 likes for this.

[quote] I'm a box of Wheat Thins, and I miss Sandy Duncan.

I’m Sandy Duncan, and I’m still alive, bitch! I wasn’t the one who died. That was Valerie Harper.

R266, I notice some stores, the person manning the existing checkout or the new checkout will specify who is supposed to come to the new line first.

[quote]I’m Sandy Duncan, and I’m still alive, bitch! I wasn’t the one who died.

No, but your career did.

When was that last time they asked you to do a commercial?

I'm the huge French supermarket in Jean-Luc Godard's 1972 film TOUT VA BIEN. Look, it's Jane Fonda!

I'm the stack of Apartment Guides sitting directly at the exit.

I'm the person that doesn't shut up. I stand at the checkout, yapping my ass off even after I've paid for all my items. I don't know how lines work and have no consideration for anyone but myself. Do you have things to do? Tough. I haven't finished talking about something invariably trivial yet.

I'm the packager of Double Stuf Oreos resting on the lowest shelf of the candy and gum rack at the checkout.

I was tossed into the cart by a scampish seven-year-old whose mother was distracting and texting one of the other fraus from yoga class. She does not want to buy me and does not want to bother to tell the cashier to put me back.

But the cashier saw her put me down here and is giving her the stink eye for the rest of the transaction.

[ugh, excuse typos at r280]

I'm Sophia Petrillo. I'm looking for a nice ripe nectarine.

I'm the woman who stops in the middle of the aisle. Not to look at the merchandise mind you, but just to chat with Midge, who is a minor acquaintance.

Our carts completely block the aisle, but that's OK because what I am saying to Midge is so fucking important. Why, I haven't seen her since I saw her at the beauty parlor two days ago. Let's take 15 minutes to catch up.

Also, I am a doctor's wife, so I don't work and therefore don't understand the concept of other people being busy.

I'm the person in the aisle behind Midge, telling both of you to move your fat asses, stat.

The doc's wife doesn't like this but can't claim she doesn't know what it means.

I went to the grocery store this morning at 6 am. I thought the special hour from 6 to 7 am for the lame and the halt and the over-60's was a thing of the past but no: the elderly and I were streaming in at the crack of not-quite-yet-dawn again.

But unlike before, they had everything I wanted except Valencia oranges and the kind of Arm and Hammer deodorant I like. No matter, Target will. But all the other stuff, even 70% rubbing alcohol, was there: the square boxes of Kleenex, Bounty paper towels, the high-line toilet paper - you name it, they had it, and I only had ten things on my list, supplemented by two 12 packs of Bounty and six six-packs of Supreme tp. Plus plenty of open checkout lanes, so I was out of there by 6:15.

R285 has NO idea how to do a let’s be thread.

Nor gives a shit about your snark...

I'm the lesbian night manager. I just loaded 20 cartons of toilet paper the trunk of my Subaru outback. We have a 1 carton per customer rule, but that doesn't apply to lesbian night managers, does it. It's not hoarding if you have IBS. Also, I have IBS.

(I think of this thread every time I go to the grocery.)

I'm the Halloween clearance section in the seasonal aisle. I've been relegated to a three-foot potion of shelf to make way for Christmas merchandise.

I'm insanity. You'll see me in just about every supermarket in the United States today.

After you clear the lines snaking through the parking lot and finally get inside, that is.

I'm Instacart, which R292 has never seriously considered using, but as 291 rears its ugly head more and more (not just the day before Thanksgiving), R292 might just give me a chance.

[quote]But what about selecting good produce?

Fuggetaboudit. The Amazon people who deliver for Whole Foods appear to be under orders to clear out the very worst looking produce they can find at any given moment. I have four things delivered now: Italian sparkling water, 365 brand sharp cheddar, eggs, and butter.

I’m the deli counter whose ticket system is broken. It’s now complete anarchy over by me because there’s no system for serving customers without that machine.

(BTW, I broke the machine. I love the drama by me!)

I ordered curbside pickup from Whole Foods once ... and they gave me cilantro instead of Italian parsley.

I'm the old lady paying in cash, counting out her bills on the counter. Then counting out her change. The line behind her just grows and grows.

I’m the clerk who is utterly dumbfounded as to why you would give me $31.10 when the order totals $26.10. I try to give you your single back since $30 is more than enough.

Because I want a $5 bill back, not four $1 bills.

I'm r296's change purse.

I’m Blanche Devereaux, who met a fruit waxer masquerading as a lawyer in Season 6.

Bless your heart, r298.

Just deal with it, R301. You're the fucking cashier. Don't over think it.

[quote] You're the fucking cashier. Don't over think it.

Yeah, um, excuse me, but thinking is not in my job description and the Union says I ain’t have to.

I'm the items with faster approaching expiration dates pushed to the front of the shelves in front of items with later expiration dates. Everyone knows this, especially for bread and milk, and make a mess digging behind for later expiring items.

We're Grocery Outlet and Big Lots where all of those expired products find a home.

I’m the Karen at the customer service desk insisting that I bought this meat only yesterday, in spite of the fact the date on it says Oct. 26, and it’s gone rancid already! I demand a refund.

I'm the store circular advertising upcoming sales my front page headline is You Can't Beat Our Meat.

I'm the health nut with nothing but produce in her cart, silently judging the other shoppers' poor food choices.

^^This is me!

I'm the end-cap display of inexpensive, local wine. I'm here because New Year's Eve is approaching. I have a couple of unobtrusive clip strips on each side containing condoms that are ribbed for her pleasure. Most shoppers don't notice but those who do either chuckle to themselves or get pissed because how will they explain this if little Madysin notices?

I'm the state of CT where you can only buy beer in grocery stores. Wine and liquor are not allowed to be sold anywhere except liquor stores. No alcohol sales at all in convenience stores.

This what we're programmed to do.

Hi. I'm Karen. I'd like 2 lbs of ground beef. Wait, you gave me 1.99 lbs. I'd like to speak to a manager..NOW!

I'm the unfriendly cashier here at my register. The self checkouts are busier than I am because the regular customers avoid me.

I'm the "how many bags" at the self checkout. You type "0" but take as many bags as you need anyway. You just spent almost $200 at this store and you're not going to pay for bags. Fuck that shit.

I'm the guy buying tons of booze and a packet of chips.

I'm the Saran Wrap over the checkout keypad. I haven't been changed since the beginning of the pandemic. I've been incubating the next coronavirus super-strain for months now. I'll infect the the hapless cashier who finally removes me when the world decides "all clear" and ultimately make him patient zero for next pandemic.

I'm a stimulus debit card. Really helps when buying groceries!

I'm the ID required for buying alcohol even though Helen Keller could tell that you are old enough that you could have a 21 year-old kid.

R319, if they scan it, it's so they can prove you bought alcohol that day if you get into an accident later that same day.

I’m a bipolar shopper at my local grocery store. 9 out of 10 times it’s all healthy. Then it’s all ice cream, cake, deli foods.

I'm the missing pasta or noodle shape that you want to buy that is never there when you need it. Don't worry, there's always shitloads of "rice vermicelli" and "cartwheel" pasta to take my place!

And only grease fire wishes to fucking "cartwheel" pasta.

I'm the flies attaching themselves to your person to hitch a ride outside. The produce is so disgustingly over ripe that we all agreed to go back to dog shit!

I'm the shopper buying all organic fruits and vegetables and avoiding those environmentally unfriendly plastic bags from the produce department because they are destroying the environment.

I put my raw greens and fruits directly into the shopping cart, even on the seat where the previous shopper Kaitlyn had baby Madysin sitting just minutes before (shitty diaper and all). I place all my raw produce directly onto the filthy rubber conveyor belt covered in suspicious foul liquids where it is handled by the checker who has not washed her hands for hours despite the repeating tape playing over the store's PA system *ding dong ding dong, It is now the top of the hour, all employees wash your hands*. The bagger then also handles the produce with filthy unwashed hands and I go home to enjoy the health benefits of my raw vegan diet.

GOOD LORD! 325 replies in less than one day. You bitches sure know your grocery shopping.

Fine. I'll be an Instacart Shopper and have the thread delivered to me.

Is r326 posting from October 22, 2020?

I'm the idiot who spends minutes with the freezer door open deciding what I want. Because glass is so fucking hard to see through.

R327 - Yes, that's right bitch. Kneel before my time travel capabilities.

I’m the sign in the window that says “Homo. Milk”, and I used to be a sweetly-clueless abbreviation. But since a Millennial took over as store manager, I’m just calculating bait for Instagram influencers. Please post me.

I'm the "Buy One, Get One Free" deals that slowly became "Buy One, Get One 1/2 Off" and that are now becoming "Buy One, Get One 40% Off"

^ I am the bastard half brother of BOGO... Buy TWO, get one FREE. There is never more than two of me on a shelf.

I'm the plump brown roach that hides in the produce bin and gets a ride home from you...

R333 - This is why I refuse to eat fresh produce.

I'm the crazy person at r178. I lose my shit when the automated checkout demands that I "remove all purchased items from the bagging area" three seconds after I complete my transaction.

[quote]"It's so great that my store has a coupon fairy."

I'm a real life coupon fairy. I also hand out coupons while were standing in line behind a Karen who's waiting for the manager to appear.

Haha. That was my post, R335, and I resurrected this thread over on the self check thread. Wow. R336 has also referenced my coupon fairy post just now. Hmmmm...

I'm whoever makes the Super One muzak selection that has Cher one minute and rap the next

I'm the buy two get three free meat selection at the entrance that is oversalted and probably has dead maggots in it.

I'm 336, Oh dearing myself for the missing apostrophe in "were." It should read "... while we're standing..."

I'm also 335, r337, and now I'm the 337 troll because I enjoy your posts so much.

I am the eldergay getting groceries with his mother, flustered looking at the hot young little Adonis who's biceps are straining the sleeves of his Fairway uniform as he pulls her cart to the car. He prob thinks she's my wife. All I want is to cop a feel...and have him bend me over the trunk of the car. He says you have a good night I sheepishly say "You too!"

[quote] the hot young little Adonis who's biceps are straining

Oh, DEAR!

R340 is cute af!

R16- It's 2022

You're not shopping at the A&P in 1975.

Sorry R16. My comment was meant for R15

I'm a ripped-apart package of cookies or chips from which someone has grabbed one or two handfuls. I've been furtively jammed into a shelf several aisles over for someone to discover while looking for garbanzo beans.

I tell a tale, mutely, of severe eating disorders, of a lifetime of coddling and entitlement that has led to a total lack of self-control, and a mobility scooter -- if not now, then soon.

Muzak still exists, R344, and is very widely used to this day, including in supermarkets. They've renamed themselves Mood Media and they do all kinds of music.

I’m the Trader Joe’s checker determined to develop a close and personal relationship involving a 15-minute conversation with every guest, even the guy who just stopped in for a gallon of milk and needs to get home to his family.

Bump

I'm Betty. My order came to $19.99, and I tell the cashier to wait a moment as I think I have the $0.99 in my change purse.

Bump

I'm the ubiquitous, post-COVID, "NOW HIRING - ALL DEPARTMENTS" signs

I'm the fat greying one-time star caught by a pap outside Ralph's pushing my cart filled with beer and chips. You'll see the photos in DM shortly.

We're the pesticide residues on your vegetables, the insect remnants in your tea and the hamburger ground from two-week-old chuck that should have been discarded.

Bon appétit!

R348 I'm the Trader Joe's checkout clerk who just LOVES LOVES LOVES everything in my cart. EVERYTHING. Because they're trained to say so.

I'm sure if TJ's sold a 5 pound pail of lard and I had it in my cart, when they hoisted it up onto the counter they'd say, "I just love this. Have you had it before? It's incredible."

And I'd be thinking, "no, it's congealed pig fat."