| Lamenting the ‘good
old days and ways’ is more than likely the province of a certain age.
I’m probably dating myself by engaging in this perception after the fact,
but I really miss the independent bakeries, dairies, butcher shops, and the
individuality each one represented.
Conglomerate owned and union plagued chain grocery stores are not my favorite
places to search for the perfect menu. Ill do almost anything not to have to go
to a large food-a-torium to forage for my dinner. It has to do with size,
fluorescent lighting and perfectly placed items on perfectly coordinated
shelves. These stores are physically chilly, inhospitable, and passionless.
Their only goal is to get you moved through the line as quickly as humanly
possible.
Impulse buying designed by the makers of chewing gum, candy and colorful
pencils with obscene erasers in the shape of current cartoon favorites are not
only odious, but are openly intended to make small children holler for these
items as their overwrought parent is otherwise engaged, desperately trying to
keep a lid on their sanity while attempting to pay the bill.
Point of purchase ATM or Credit Card payment for groceries, along with coupons,
and now grocery discount cards are equally abhorrent. Just what we need,
another card for every store we saunter into. And the Lottery encourages us to
gamble while we shop for life sustaining necessities. But wait, that isnt all.
The absolute worst is yet to come.
Imagine my dismay when I discovered that banks, insurance companies, the post
office, and a photographer had taken stall like spaces inside that same, cold
grocery store. Huge signs herald loan interest rates, free checking, designer
stamps, insurance programs, and family pictures right next to the checkout
counters.
Now I ask you, do you really think about your changing insurance needs while
waiting to get your groceries bagged? My best guess is that youre thinking
about the price of food, not whether you want earthquake protection or major
medical. Could this actually be the perfect place to discuss your pre-existing
medical condition, or what? Why not just do medical exams behind the curtain.
Perhaps we can get space for a massage therapist in the next stall and the kids
can chew the tasteless erasers off the pencils while they wait.
Truthfully, is the Saturday morning grocery excursion the image you want to
preserve for posterity and have the family picture taken? If it is, the phrase
come as you are has just been elevated to new heights. Send a few of these
pictures and many a family gallery will look a little less like a family and
more like a rogue gallery in the future.
Do you suppose that mom, trying to contain a grasping toddler and keep him from
chewing on all the ugly erasers, suddenly slaps her forehead, and heads for the
bank stall to apply for a new mortgage loan? I doubt it. Just being heard by
the person across the counter in the midst of loud speakers touting the sale
price of ground beef could be challenging.
But even if she were inclined to start that process right away, what about the
confidentiality of her income, debt, and credit. Ive been doing mortgage loans
for many years and it would never occur to me to ask a borrower to reveal their
financial information in a place where they might run into everyone they know.
People use grocery-shopping time to socialize and catch up on the latest with
anybody they happen to meet. Is this the place where you want your last
pay-stub and W-2 laying on the counter?
The post office stall makes some sense and has an air of greater convenience
about it. Postage stamps are supplies and this purchase is in line with buying
other supplies, such as food. We can also assume that any postal employee
working behind this counter has enough variety, entertainment, and quite
possibly less stress than his counterparts at the Post Office. We all know what
that means dont we.
So you see, thats why I miss the old Butcher Shop. A place that does not
pretend to be anything else, and does not augment its income by renting space
to the doctor who performs plastic surgery while I wait for the perfect cut of
meat.
Could it be that some things really are sacred?
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