MATTHEW BURNETTE

Staff Writer

While most find themselves in the grocery store standing wide-eyed experiencing palpitations at the price of a bag of Doritos or waxing poetic to whoever will listen about how inexpensive things used to be, chances are that I’m somewhere in the background attempting to bumble my way around.

Grocery shopping is a chore that I don’t mind doing, but it’s one that I am absolutely unskilled to do, at least in any sort of efficient fashion.

Those folks who go into a store knowing the exact layout of the place and a plan already formulated will forever have my envy and admiration.

My strategy can best be described as “bouncing around like a frantic pinball who keeps loudly exclaiming ‘Oh, gosh’ before darting off toward the other end of the store because he forgot something from the aisle that he’s already been in twice.”

It’s a cruel irony really considering the rather embarrassing fact that for a year and a half I was gainfully employed by a large chain grocery store. I could easily direct customers to the aisle they need to be in despite all of my work being centered in the deli department.

Yet when it comes to shopping for myself, my mind becomes a blunder as if all of those convenient signs at the ends of the aisles were written in wingdings.

It all starts with my journey into the bread aisle. You may be asking yourself why I go to the bread aisle first, and to that I simply respond, “You read up until this point, right?”

Sorry, talking about the grocery store gets me flustered.

But the bread aisle gets me out of sorts because of a long-held secret that up until this point I’ve been able to hold.

I approach the various loaves of sliced bread just like everyone else. Then I scan them to see which one I want just like everyone else. Finally, I give three of the loaves a gentle push on the top to see which I’m going to take just like everyone else.

The problem? Unlike everyone else, I have no idea which one the best option is and just randomly choose one of the three to take and then scurry away before anyone catches on.

Am I looking for one that’s soft? Am I looking for one that’s firm? Is there some other attribute that I’m supposed to be feeling for in the bread that was taught at school the day I was out sick?

At this point, it seems silly to ask.

Then I move on to produce because I figure I don’t know whether the bread I got is of the best quality so why not smash it under a bunch of heavy vegetables since it doesn’t really matter anyways.

Recently, I was in the grocery store in search of a tomato to put on a sandwich. There were these bushel baskets full of nice-looking ones. Unlike with the bread, I know what to look for in a tomato: no unseemly spots, nice dark red skin and firm with a little give to it but not too soft.

I spent a few moments picking a good tomato and then turned to grab a bag to put it in. I realized that opening the bag and holding the tomato was a feat of multitasking that I was incapable of, so I put the tomato back on the pile to focus on the other task.

After finally getting the bag open, I turned back to get my glorious red tomato only to find it gone. Had another customer stealthily snuck behind me and grabbed my tomato? More than likely it’s that I’m not nearly as good at recognizing a quality piece of fruit as I thought and didn’t recognize it right in front of me.

Who knows?

I then make my way through the cold sections to grab those items so they get nice and warm as I dart around the store trying to remember what I came in for. Then I go for the canned items before moving into things like chips and crackers before finally making my way to the detergents.

Fragile, then heavy, then fragile and then heavy seems to be my preferred method. I like to concoct a bit of a “ruined grocery lasagna,” if you will.

The detergent aisle is one of my least favorites to go down. I’m all for a good bit of capitalism and competition, but there are just way too many choices when it comes to doing laundry. Powders, liquids, pods, sheets.

Each brand has its own set of scents. I can’t emphasize enough how little I think about whether my clothes smell like an Autumn Breeze or a Summer Rain throughout my life unless I’m staring at the two options in a store.

One time, I noticed a tag that read “All Laundry Detergent Buy One, Get One Free.” I was incredibly impressed because you don’t often see brands offer deals together like that, so I skimmed to see which two I wanted to get until it occurred to me that “All” is a brand of detergent.

So much for that detergent brand unity…

At last, I find myself at a place where I am 75% confident that I have everything. That may not seem like a lot, but that is generally what I’m able to muster. I run through the list in my head four times while simultaneously scanning my cart and then make my way to the register.

As soon as the sun hits my face, I let out a sigh of relief. The job is done, and I won’t have to do it again for another week.

I can rest easy knowing that, despite my many inadequacies, I accomplished the goal and finished the task. It’s a good feeling.

Oh gosh… I forgot the butter.