Well, I was never officially banned from Trader Joe’s itself. I was banned from going to Trader Joe’s by friends and family for a few years.
Because I’m mouthy.
In my defense, the parking lot is shit and nobody seems to understand that Entrance Only means Don’t You Fucking Come in Through the Entrance Only While People Are Trying to Get Out of the Parking Lot. I think something must break in people’s brains once they pull into the parking lot of Trader Joe’s. Every driver becomes a fucktard.
When I was banned from our Trader Joe’s I’d sit in the car and read a book and by read a book I mean glare at the drivers and laugh at them when they saw me sitting behind the wheel because they thought I was leaving and they’d get my parking space.
Just this past week I’ve done some hands-on therapy and stepped foot inside a Trader Joe’s store. Don’t worry. I’m medicated for everyone’s safety. I like a lot of the stuff Trader Joe’s sells. They even sell junk food but it makes you feel like you’re buying healthy junk food. If I wanted to shop there all the time I’d have to get two other jobs just to pay for groceries. I was a little relieved that the Old Me was still hunkered down somewhere in the Medicated Me when I saw a box of dark chocolate caramels. I love me some chocolate caramels and dark chocolate is good for the heart….well, maybe in one or two pieces a day. I usually finish off a box of them in a day and talk myself into thinking I’m an overachiever when it comes to heart health. The caramels cost $7.99. There were maybe 10 in the box. The Unmedicated Me would have VERY LOUDLY said “I’m not paying almost $10 for chocolates!” I’m not good at math. If I see anything that costs $5 it’s $10 in my head.
I’m not nuts about some of the people who shop there (and sometimes the staff just stand around talking to each other, ignoring the customers and they won’t move the fuck out of the way when I’m trying to get some healthy frozen fucking vegetables). The hipsters are taking over with their ultra skinny maroon jeans, ironic (I don’t get it) horn-rimmed glasses and pork-pie hats. I’m not mouthy enough to say to a slow moving hipster “Move to the side, fuck-face. I need to get to the gluten-free donuts.” I’m tempted but they might turn their complex sarcasm on me and I’d just leave puzzled, wondering if I’d been insulted.
This time at Trader Joe’s I enjoyed myself for once. There were a couple cute kids running around with rain boots on. The littlest one had his coat on backwards and candy smeared down his face. That’s my kind of kid.
I did roll my eyes at the apples being 69 cents a piece, the chocolate cake that was barely big enough for two people was $8, and the protein bars were more expensive than a gym membership. But Medicated Me realizes it costs money to be semi-healthy. When I got into the check out lane the cashier was mumbling something about a black bear that had been shot and killed and left in the road a couple towns over. I thought he was going to give a hipster version of “We’re all one with the Universe. I must get my phone out and text while pretending to interact with you.” Nope. he just followed up with how greasy black bear meat is. Little Elvis Costello looking dude.
Next I want to see if I can get banned from Macy’s or Super Supplements. $60 for protein powder?
Oh hell no.