The Sale

I will begin by confessing that I am a bargain addict. I elaborately plan garage sale routes and attend every estate sale in the county. I haven’t paid full retail for clothes or shoes in my adult life and I only travel using frequent flyer mileage. I try to be frugal at the grocery store too, but the things I like to eat are rarely on sale.

 

This morning a friend introduced me to a new type of sale. We met outside of our local grocery store and stood in line to enter a maze of bright green plastic totes containing grocery and sundry items. Shoppers waited eagerly to snag items for a dollar apiece.

I should have realized I was out of my element when cautioned by the store manager to play nice, or in his words, “No fighting or we’ll shut this down.” A whistle blew and we, along with our huge grocery buggies (in the south we call them buggies) were allowed into the labyrinth. It took me all of three seconds to see that everyone in town must have let their aunt out of the attic for this. I ditched my unruly shopping cart/buggy for a red plastic basket and I was off.

My new mobility allowed me to rush past lines of shoppers pushing their already overflowing carts and to get to the good stuff. I passed on the generic green beans and corn and made straight for the wasabi-soy almonds, crunchy peanut butter, brown rice with quinoa, bags of organic granola – all of the overpriced specialty items I so love. When I added a twelve-pack of mineral water to my basket I knew I had exceeded my weight limit.

Now for step two of the grocery gauntlet: The check out. Finding the end of the line proved problematic, but I was able to deftly maneuver with my small red basked around the shopping carts to secure my place in line. My friend joined me in the queue to chat away the waiting time. Suddenly, to my horror, someone pushing an overflowing shopping cart cut in line two spaces ahead of us. Then, even more horrifying, I heard a voice, much like my own (okay, it was mine) say, “Excuse me?!” Seriously, was I about to challenge a fellow bargain hunter over a few minutes of my time? I broke eye contact with the poor woman who was obviously lacking in social skills, not to mention morals, and ignored the transgression.

I finally made it to the checkout, paid thirteen dollars for thirteen items (thirteen items I didn’t really need and would never have bought at full price), and was on my merry way. It was time to head back to my attic. Sometimes we all have a little crazy in us and as I said upfront, I’m crazy about a bargain.