Within a mile of my house is a Giant grocery store (In the Northeast Giant is known as Stop & Shop; they carry the same logo but different names). I don't mean it is a particularly large grocery store, but the actual name and business plan is Giant. They have a bouncer there and I once saw him reject a vertically challenged man because he wasn't 'giant' enough. Their slogan is "If you're not six feet tall, get your food at the mall." Their slogan in Southeast DC is "Shorties need not apply." I sort of felt like the this whole idea was a little bit discriminatory, and even though I felt honored to be included in their elite clientele I wasn't sure I wanted to support an organization with such biased opinions. I considered my alternate options for food consumption:
- Eat two meals a day at my school cafeteria, and just eat party food over the weekend from the various events I attend.
- Eat my roommates' food. I have five of them so if I distribute my eating habits in the right way I'm pretty sure I could pull it off long enough for a new grocery story to be built in my area without them noticing.
- Catch my own food. I have seen many birds out my window, though none of them chickens. I have berry trees in my front yard, but not strawberries, blueberries, or raspberries.
- Go to a different grocery store.
After trying options 1-3 this past week I ended up with a bruised jaw when my roommate punched me, having to get my stomach pumped after eating what was definitely not just a new variety of red blueberry, and getting questioned quite severely about whether I was a friend of the bride or the groom at the Olyveskiannaruki-Martinez wedding I crashed on Saturday.
So I did what all good Boy Scouts would do- I drove an additional mile down the road to Shoppers. Shoppers is a discount grocery store with a reputation for attracting people who like to shop. I don't entirely fit that description but they let me in anyway- the first good sign. When I walked through those sliding glass doors I immediately felt a sharp pain in my nose. A fellow shopper asked if I was alright, helped me wipe the blood away, then showed me where the sliding door was actually located, one panel away from where I had distractedly walked.
I'm not an employee of Shoppers and they aren't paying me anything to advertise for them, but I will definitely be going back. Sure I got a broken nose, but at least I didn't have to get my stomach pumped or get arrested for crashing a Bar Mitzvah in Bethesda. It looks like I'm going to be okay with the new move after all.