In our family, Dad does the shopping for food. Usually, he accomplishes this on Saturdays, when we’re nearly always at church for something or other…
Whichever children don’t have an activity (or aren’t at home having fun) accompany him on the errands, to push the cart and perform other helpful actions such as being embarrased by Dad.
Cause Dad, you see, despite being a wonderful person, is kind of a weird shopper.
He is the person who ALWAYS HAS COUPONS and is ALWAYS GETTING INTO AN ARGUMENT WITH THE SALES CLERK. And most of the time, he’s right, but it still requires an inquisition wherein, after the sales clerk does something stupid such as charge $56.70 for six dinner rolls (and that’s after the coupons) or ring up 78 pounds of bananas or give change in Marks, Dad protests. And the clerk stares at him blankly. (Usually these are people with multiple piercings. Some of them through vital parts of the brain, apparently.) So Dad asks to speak to a supervisor! Which is always a joy, believe me. And then we get into the supervisor’s supervisor and on up the hierarchy until we are at the manager, who invariably pacifys Dad and explains to the checker that Marks are in fact German, and not legal tender.
Dad also has a tendency to require assistance. I know that the phrase “require assistance” sounds affected, but this is in fact exactly what he says. We’ll be standing in some aisle in Shop-Rite and he’ll start waving his arms around, beckoning frantically, like some kind of semaphore signaller or something. And then he’ll call “ASSISTANCE! ASSISTANCE PLEASE! CAN WE GET SOME HELP OVER HERE? EXCUSE ME! YOUNG MAN.”
And the young man shuffles over and stares at the shelf which Dad has been gesticulating in front of. And Dad says, “WELL. Normally there is an entire shelf here devoted to Pace brand taco sauce.” (Shop-Rite Dude nods meekly) “BUT. This week, there does not seem to be any Pace taco sauce! Can you tell me where I can find it? This is a SITUATION!”
He also likes to find bargains. Ben is always horrified when he is pushing the cart down an aisle and all of a sudden, from 20 feet behind him, Dad bellows, “Hold the phone! Hold the phone! LOOK at this deal on toilet paper! I mean, how often do you find TOILET PAPER this cheap?!? Bring that cart down here! BEN!”
Plus he sometimes misunderstands the shopping list. For example, once Mom wanted the type of candy corn that is chocolate on the end, instead of just plain sugar, so she wrote “indian corn” down on the list. Dad came home with bunches of colorful corncobs, which ended up being composted. Another time she wanted a special type of magarine, so she told him she wanted some spreads, upon which he returned with no margarine but a LOT of fancy gourmet spreads, such as fig compote and olive jam.
I did not make any of this up.
Ask my brother.
Moral of the story: Ya gotta stop being embarrassed by your parents, otherwise you’ll never make it through high school.
