The 10 Types Of Parents You Will Find At The Grocery Store
What’s weird is that grocery shopping has become increasingly unpleasant for me, despite the fact that the opposite should be true. For some reason, it seemed easier to stuff my two-year-old into a cart and throw frozen peas and stuff on top of her than it does to go now, when she’s in school orperfectly happy to stay at home and read. This is probably because without the distraction of keeping her placated, the entire grocery store shitshow is on display before me; everything from the gladiatorial blood bath taking place at the deli counter to the screaming children by the quarter machine.Here’s the ten types of parents you’ll find at the grocery store:
1. The double-carter.
Why, oh why does this person need two carts? They seem to have a totally arbitrary number of food and groceries barely covering the bottom of each, and yet they still tote each around with kids hanging off of the side, wearing a martyred grimace on their face as they knock old ladies down and destroy entire tuna can displays with their caravan. I have yet to see someone check two full carts out when they do this.
2. The apologizer.
This mom is really sorry. She whispers it when she ducks past you to grab a jar of mayonnaise and clutch it, quivering, to her bosom. She practically shouts it when you ram your cart into hers, that she’s “Sorry, I’m so sorry.” I want to give this one a hug.
3. The ticket taker.
What is this guy even doing? Any time there’s a line for a counter, like the deli, bakery, or seafood section, he let’s his kids grab anywhere from 10-20 numbered tickets, just-it seems-to fuck with the rest of us. As soon as the counter guy calls the first number that the ticket-taker has in his possession, he’ll walk off, leaving us all fuming as they drone through the rest of his abandoned numerals.
4. The landlord.
The landlord OWNS the frozen food section, the baked goods section, the household cleaners aisle, whatever. She will stand with her cart in front of the very thing that you need, reading the back of a box of Lunchables like it’s the hottest new shitty erotica novel, barely deigning to grunt when you say, “excuse me”.
5. Gluten-free dude.
Oh, gluten-free dude, I feel for you. If you or your kid are truly gluten-free, then you are in for a horrible misadventure at your local grocery store. No, that cereal isn’t gluten-free. No, that mayonnaise isn’t gluten-free. Sorry, that juice isn’t even gluten-free. My husband has to adhere to a gluten-free FODMAPS diet for his broken stomach, and its sucks nuggets, so I do feel for you. But stop coming to the grocery store at peak hours to fret loudly about it. Do like the rest of us do and show up at like, 11 o’clock, so we can all bitch about it in an empty store.
6. The produce sampler.
I have serious suspicions about the produce-sampler. After she’s done touching every single piece of fruit, caressing every tuber and cruciferous veggie, I don’t think she pays for those grapes, after all. I’m pretty sure her kid just downed that entire cup of teeny carrots and then watched her just pitch the wrapper. I’m onto you, produce sampler.
7. The car cart driver.
I know that when you have kids, the car cart has a certain draw to it. A je ne sais quoi, if you will. DO NOT GET THE CAR CART. It screeches, smells like butts, turns on a brick and everybody hates you for it.
8. The one who can’t read.
10 Items. That’s what the sign says. But do you care, oh illiterate one? Fuck no. You’ve got an entire cart load of stuff you aren’t entirely sure you want and a handful of expired coupons to argue about. What I really love about you is how long it takes you to write out a check. I didn’t even know those still existed.
9. The “cool mom”.
The cart races. The cart full of Gushers and Go-gurt. The bedazzled jeans and magenta streak. The fedora. Go away.
10. The “what kids, where?” parent.
This parent has some kids, but they aren’t quite sure where those kids are. They might be in the bathroom. Perhaps they are a few aisles over in toys. Nope, looks like they’re actually in dairy, gallon-smashing and pissing off the rest of the store. Not that this parent cares