Grocery Store Clerks Are Teh Awesome

Kid and I hiked up to the local Death Apple (our fond pet name for the local grocery store) this morning. We’ve been shopping there so long that even the produce guy knows us.

First lucky news of the day- I found 5 bucks on the ground. I asked the guy standing closest to it if it was his, then asked the deli people if they saw someone drop it. Nope. Since claiming a random 5 bucks is really hard to do, I kept it. Hey, at least I tried to give it back.

Then for about $35 bucks plus the dregs of my fridge, I think I managed to come up with about 6 days worth of dinners. Not bad. Not bad at all. Of course this means nearly another week straight of eating pork roast, leftover porkroast, and fried rice made with leftover pork roast. But wevs. It’s food.

And my favorite clerk, June, was working. I love her. She’s been there forever and she probably knows more about my family life than anyone else. She’s watched the Kid grow up and tells me how his sweetness reminds her of her own grown up son.

Today we were talking about the mayor’s new 20 cent grocery bag charge. Starting in January, people who don’t bring their own bags will have to pay for each plastic bag they use. Now I am pretty good about bringing my own bags, mostly because I have fancy nylon bags I got for a buck each in Paris that stuff into tiny packs. I can carry 3 in my purse easy. But Kid never remembers to bring a bag. Those 20 cent charges are going to kick our ass.

The thing is, the bag plan was rushed (and I mean RUSHED- like 2 months or less) into law. Meanwhile, there is no work, homelessness is rising, food and fuel costs are crippling, food banks and shelters are stretched way beyond their normal overburdened capacity. No one is rushing through any programs for that though. The mayor is spending all his time getting restaurants to eliminate transfats, busting nightclubs for being nightclubby, and finding ways to make buying groceries more painful.

Sweet.

This is what comes from having fauxgressives in power. A whole lot of hot air blown into places that won’t keep the people sleeping on the street warm at night.