Grocery Store Nemesis

There are two types of people at the grocery store: those who have no sense of the people around them, and the good and moral citizens of the world. I unequivocally belong to the latter, of course.

And that is my predicament as I stand in this aisle, stricken by the scene unfolding before me as I attempt to navigate my cart to its destination.

Before me: a store worker stocking shelves—a good and faithful servant of the people; a mother with an unruly child on her heels—Lord have mercy on her soul; and evil incarnate: her male.

I will not jump to our heteronormative conclusion and declare him her husband or the father of her children. What is important here is the maleness of the human in my path.

Because, as a male, this shopper-adjacent individual is statistically more likely to lack spatial awareness and will, the majority of the time, find his way to the most inconvenient of locations—right in front of the very thing you came to the store for and cannot leave without because your six-year-old will not be able to have her four popsicles a day and will DIE MOM I’LL DIE.

There is not much I can do at this moment but surrender to my fate. And because I am a good and godly woman who does not bring male-adjacent shoppers with her on such errands, I will wait until his keeper meets my gaze, takes in my stink-eye, and yells at her male to move.

Then I will grab those popsicles and get the hell out of there, forgetting the macaroni and cheese.