Congratulations, mate! You’ve been sent to the grocery store by your better half. It’s a rite of passage in every relationship, a task that seems simple but will likely leave you questioning your entire existence by the end of it. But don’t worry, this guide will walk you through the steps of surviving this nightmare so that when you come crawling back with your tail between your legs like the massive disappointment that you are, at least you will have something to show for. Most likely not the right things, but something.
Step 1: The List, a.k.a. The Scroll of Doom
Alright so did she hand you a list? If yes, you have no excuse anymore and if no, you should have asked for one and have no excuse anymore. Get where I’m going? Exactly: you’re screwed. So however it happens, she hands you a list. It looks innocent enough, just a couple of items scribbled on a piece of paper or sent as a text. But don’t be fooled because this list is a labyrinth of grocery jargon that you’re unfortunately too dense to understand.
Words like quinoa that you have no idea how to pronounce, maybe it’s kwin-oa, maybe it’s kwinwa; you will never know but good luck looking like an ape asking the store clerk where it is. Honestly that’s the easy one – others such as organic and locally sourced will be your undoing. You might think you can just wing it and pick whatever version of “almond milk” you see first. Oh man, big mistake there, buddy! You’ll soon learn that there’s unsweetened, vanilla, extra creamy, light, lighter, with a hint of Himalayan salt (whatever the hell that means) and many more – but technically it doesn’t matter because you’re going to choose wrong anyway.
Step 2: Entering the Supermarket, a.k.a. Welcome to Hell
As soon as you step inside, your confidence evaporates faster than your last paycheck. Shelves tower over you, filled with things you’ve never seen before and leaving you wondering if that thing is a vegetable or a dehydrated baby Yoda. You’ll begin to realize that this is a place not built for inept people like you. You’re in hostile territory there, bud.
Your first instinct is to wander aimlessly, thinking maybe the eggs will just jump out at you. Rookie mistake, mate, you couldn’t see your face in the mirror! Also they have to be free-range and medium so you’re gonna have to check the fine prints, which you are painfully unaware of. It’s not your fault, you’re just not fit for this world; it’s like evolution went backwards just for you. Anyway, you need a plan, or better yet, a GPS tracker. But do you have one? Of course not. You’re just a guy, clueless as they come, who somehow scored a bombshell, so you better up your game, mate. No pressure.
Step 3: The Produce Section, a.k.a. The Green Jungle
Ah, the fresh produce section. The ultimate test of your puny resilience. You think you’re a tough guy? Don’t answer this, you’re a joke and you know it. Now let’s see you try to tell cilantro from parsley without Googling it for the third time. You have to bring home salad and that should be simple enough, right? Wrong! Turns out, there are millions types of salad. Romaine? Iceberg? Butterhead? Arugula? That’s a choice you weren’t prepared for so just pick one of them and get ready to disappoint again because that’s not the one that was needed.
And that’s only salad; you have a whole list of it! Need avocados? Those suckers have 17 different levels of ripeness and only one of them is good. Statistically there’s a slight chance to get it right but you always sucked at maths and of course you will naturally choose wrong. Again.
Step 3: Hygiene Products, a.k.a. The Wall of Shame
Things are getting serious now: you were asked to bring back some hygiene products. You’re secretly scared of it, the hygiene section is a place where your confusion knows no bounds. Deodorant, shampoo, body wash, it all sounds easy, right? Wrong. You’ll stand there like a deer in headlights, overwhelmed by the endless options. There are 47 types of shampoo and you’ll spend 10 minutes wondering if “hydrating” or “volumizing” is code for “fixes everything wrong with my life.” Spoiler: it’s not and you’ll bring back conditioner instead of shampoo because apparently you can’t even read.
Now you’re at the brink of calling your significant other but that would be openly admitting that you pay attention to nothing, so think! What’s that deodorant she uses? Roll-on? Spray? Antiperspirant? Eucalyptus? Ocean Breeze? You’ll end up picking whatever’s on sale and claiming you thought “she’d like to try it” even though you know she wouldn’t.
Step 4: Asking for Help, a.k.a. Admitting Defeat
Ok so you’re 45 minutes in, at this point you’re hating your life and have considered ditching everything to live off the grid, but you can’t live without your smartphone and the only thing you ever managed to grow is your back hair so that plan’s canceled. You’ve covered maybe 10% of the list and now you’re scared that it’s gonna take you so long, they will ask you to pay rent. A normal person might ask for help, but you’re not a normal person, are you? You’re a stubborn, walking insecurity billboard who believes asking an employee where the “gluten-free vegan oat bars” are is a sign of weakness.
Eventually, though, what’s left of your pride breaks, as usual. You awkwardly approach a store employee who instantly knows you’re a lost cause. She’ll lead you to the item, incidentally you stood in front of that specific shelf for a solid 10 minutes without seeing those bars, and you’ll pretend that they weren’t there when you checked. They were, mate. They always were.
Step 5: The Checkout, a.k.a. The Judgement
You think you’re done, right? Think again, champ. Now comes the grand finale: the judgment of the cashier.
As you load your weird assortment of groceries onto the belt, you’ll start wondering: Is this what people think I eat? She asked for oven baked beet chips, three bags of kale and almond flour, but you’re only seeing imaginary sideways glances from the cashier and the people behind you. They don’t care about you – you really aren’t that important, dude – but you still want to scream, “This isn’t mine!” You don’t, though, and that’s one of the few things you did right in that store. Congrats, you still have some sense of decorum, so you just stand there, silently accepting your fate, like the peasant you are.
“Do you have the store card?” the cashier asks in a suspiciously friendly tone. “Uuuh, no?” You mutter, thinking it’s an ambush and reminiscing of your dunce days at school – some things apparently don’t change. “Alright, then that will be 76 dollars and your dignity. Cash or card?” Mate, seriously? Wrong! You do have the store card! As a matter of fact, your partner gave you the card along with the list and specifically told you “This is the store card.” Jeez.
Also you forgot the bags at home and now you have to buy new ones. Good job, Einstein.
Step 6: The Aftermath, a.k.a. You’re Screwed
You return home, thinking you’ve handled it fairly well all things considered, but oh no.
First, there’s the playful glance she gives you as she puts a hand on her hip, tilts her head and says “I think you forgot the bags.” Mate, if only you only forgot the bags…
Then comes the moment of truth when she inspects the spoils of your war. The look of disappointment in her eyes when she realizes you bought normal tomatoes instead of heirloom tomatoes will be the stuff of your nightmares. And the wrong kind of milk? Man, she constantly drinks that milk. Every morning – You even foam it yourself for her cappuccino! I mean, dude, come on!
You’re a Lost Cause
At the end of it, you’ll wonder why she ever trusted you with this task in the first place. You might be thinking “She won’t make that mistake again,” and you’d be wrong, because she will send you grocery shopping again, and again you will disappoint, as is tradition. You’ll try to relegate yourself to simpler tasks, like taking out the trash, reaching the top shelf or converting oxygen into carbon dioxide, but that’s not gonna cut it for long.
So next time she asks if you have time for a little trip to the supermarket, remember this guide. Alternatively you can try avoiding the impending humiliation of the whole ordeal by saying you’ve misplaced your griplocker (or whatever imaginary device you can think of) and you have to find it before you can do anything else.
Now go forth, you limp lemon, and good luck.
