Ode to the grocery store: Day 3

Me, at Whole Foods, the time the paparazzi mistook me for Angelina Jolie.

This is Day 3 in the mother of all blog post series on grocery stores.

Whole Foods

I saved the best for last. Yes, Whole Foods is THE BEST. I love it. My gluten-free, dairy-free body loves it. The environment loves it. The only thing that doesn’t love it? My wallet. But let’s focus on the positive.

Whole Foods is its own little world populated by a unique segment of the population. Let me explain.

Case in point: The fish/meat counter. All the men working back there have two things in common— not one is over 30 and every single one of them is good looking. Many of them have awesome beards and tattoos. When I imagine butchers, they do not look like this.

These guys are also super nice and knowledgeable. They will listen to my idiotic ramblings for five minutes about how I’m trying to do the “right thing” and buy sustainable seafood but man, is it expensive, and I wait for them to pick up on the fact that if they reassure me that I am an amazing person for buying the tilapia I will go ahead and commit to buying said tilapia.

So after that rigmarole, I usually go over to the protein/energy bar section. Here I enjoy a lengthy conversation with the guy who is apparently in charge of buying the protein/energy bars. I assume this because he knows about every single one of them, including which ones are gross and which ones are magically delicious. He has never steered me wrong.

I then pick up my sticks of Earth Balance (because Kroger doesn’t carry them in the sticks, only in the tubs, despite my taking the time to call their special phone number and make a request for them. Kroger, get it together, dudes).

I see I’ve taken a wrong turn down Boring Street. Let me loop around. Stay with me.

Now while all the people who work at Whole Foods are super nice, super knowledgeable and impossibly good looking, the people who shop there are not always the same. One time I wiped out in the middle of the dairy section. Yeah, like FELL DOWN ON THE GROUND. And guess what? Not one person asked me if I was ok. So what did I do? The only thing I could do. Stood up and kept walking. Actually limping because I kind of did hurt myself. Nice going, Whole Foods shoppers. It wouldn’t have killed you to actually ask me if I was all right instead of just staring at my humiliation.

Despite that unfortunate incident, I truly enjoy visiting my local Whole Foods. There are loads of other nice, caring people who do as well (they just weren’t there that one time when I FELL DOWN ON THE GROUND). I’ll leave you with this:

Image from Just Jared.

  1. Noah

    July 13th, 2012 at 5:28 pm

    Should your husband be concerned about your attraction for Whole Foods fish salesmen?

  2. Here’s where I draw the line – Meredith Towbin

    November 21st, 2012 at 7:31 am

    […] you recall, I made the gross generalization a few months back that while the people who work at Whole Foods are super duper nice, the people who […]

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