How Two Pieces of Fruit Broke a Strong Man and Opened My Eyes 🥑
I scanned my items as quickly as I could, feeling the pressure of the self-check out line eyeing my machine.
We all wanted to get out of there as fast as possible. The grocery store is no longer a fun place to greet neighbors. It’s become a shared trauma zone, especially in small town America. We all think others are judging our purchases, but now they really are:
“She’s buying a lot of wine.”
“Why did that man need 6 cartons of eggs?”
“I wonder if they just live far from town or if they are hoarding because they know something I don’t.”
The things we think waiting in line have changed. “Am I in danger?” never once crossed my mind on a childhood grocery trip.
Now, I’m watching my six like a trained combat soldier while trying to hold in gasps of shock. It’s “Where would I hide?” combined with “I can’t afford that anymore?” And I know that I’m not alone in this feeling.
As I try to rush through my self-checkout I tell my son – loudly enough for the people in line to hear – “I wish the lady in the machine would be quiet.”
“$12.99. Savings 50¢,” the robot voice loudly mocks, screaming prices at the entire grocery store.
“It’s very distracting. It’s so hard to go quickly,” I say even more loudly.
The scowlers look away, but don’t stop scowling.
Behind us on the next self-checkout is an older, almost stereotypical rancher. Cowboy hat. Flannel shirt tucked neatly into his Levi jeans, clearly worn for decades, but clean and untattered.
As I struggle with the robot voice in the self-checkout machine, I hear him exclaim, “$8 for 2 avocados? EIGHT DOLLARS?!”
The young check out attendant scurried over to help the gentleman. “Maybe it’s a mistake?” the cowboy said more quietly, trying to divert attention from his unfiltered outburst. “I just got two small avocados from your produce section. It says $8? That can’t be right.”
I resumed scanning my items. We are monthly shoppers with a full cart, so I also resumed my social anxiety about holding up others.
But then the Avocado Cowboy, made me jump. He was clearly the type to prefer “Yes,” “No,” or “Ma’am” to be his entire public vocabulary, as is the cowboy way. But he lost it. He just couldn’t take it.
“Really? They’re actually $8? TWO avocados?” He was stunned to silence for just a moment.
And in past years, under similar circumstances, a man of his background would leave it at that. Maybe feign ignorance at current grocery prices and ask the wife later.
But no. This Cowboy knew his avocados. It seemed like a gift he’d get his wife regularly. Like flowers, but practical.
He loudly told the attendant “I feel sorry for your generation, just getting started. I don’t know how they expect you to do it. Grocery prices are out of control.”
He turned red in the face, thanked the attendant, and hung his head as he left with his receipt and two sad avocados.
I’ll never forget the Avocado Cowboy. I wanted to hug him, or thank him, or comfort him in some way.
But I’m scared too.
It has begun to feel like no good deed goes unpunished. So, I, like many these days, did not do the good deed. I did not thank the Avocado Cowboy.
But I’m saying it now. I see you. I am you. We are all confused. Disappointed. Sad. And resentful.
But I hope we all know…
Nobody knows the end of this story.
Let’s keep trying to make it good.
Feeling the Pressure, too?
Try what I do when I am feeling stressed:
Keep Your Homestead Running Smoothly (Even When Life Feels Chaotic)