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I hate big supermarkets
Not only do they want my money, but they also want half my day waiting to give it to them…
Warning — first world problem rant!
There are a few large, national chain supermarkets near me. Which one I go to depends on whichever one I am driving by when I have to face the fact that I desperately need to buy groceries.
Otherwise, I avoid big supermarkets like the plague: the noise, the grumpy people, the harsh lighting, the jangling muzak, the kids having tantrums and the loudspeaker spruiking of specials. “Clean up in aisle 7”. Yep, that was my brain exploding.
Most of the time I try to go to small, independent stores, figuring the hit to my bank balance is a tiny price to pay to save my sanity. I also altruistically figure that if we all don’t support small businesses, they will simply go out of business and then the hypocritical lamenting of the rise of the multinationals will begin and also drive me crazy. That the manager of my local carries my groceries to my car and flirts with me might also have something to do with it. A girl’s gotta get her kicks where she can!
My hatred of supermarkets got worse a few years ago when I had an anxiety attack in the middle of a very large store, so bad that I couldn’t actually move and had to call my husband who was also there to come and get me out of there…
