- Back to me and my fellow sufferer. I felt him first even before I saw him.
- He was obviously frustrated over something and I could smell his thin armpit sweat from an isle away.
- He was flipping all the available milk packets over and cross referring to a long list he held on the other hand.
There is something about men and shopping in the supermarket that is harder than nuclear science and brain surgery.
No amount of tutoring in the institution of marriage is enough to prepare a man for an unaccompanied shopping outing in the supermarket, especially if the shopping list exceeds two items.
The biggest dilemma is where to find the desired items from the shelves. Even when they have located the particular shelf, their next struggle is to find the particular brand, variety and stock keeping unit.
Over the weekend I was pushing the big trolley ahead of me in one of the emerging supermarkets. I always push the big trolley even when I am just picking bread and milk.
Trolley size is a measure of status, and it also influences the kind of attention you are going to receive from the cashiers and other supermarket attendants. The bigger the better.
I arrived at the milk section and encountered this gentleman and fellow sufferer. Men suffer in the supermarket because we can’t seem to trace anything from the shelves even when the items have been written clearly on the shopping list.
Furthermore, our pride does not allow us to ask questions and seek guidance from the shelf attendants because we believe that asking for help is a preserve of the weak.
We similarly suffer when we are accompanied by our spouses, because ladies seem to take an average of five minutes per item, making an erstwhile simple afternoon groceries shopping outing into a full day affair.
And finally, when we are accompanied by other dependents that we sponsor in one way or another, it eventually turns into a nightmare because a trolley that was meant to carry groceries ends up being loaded with a fridge, a wall to wall carpet and assorted furniture items.
It is always a losing game; whichever way we look at it.
Back to me and my fellow sufferer. I felt him first even before I saw him. He was obviously frustrated over something and I could smell his thin armpit sweat from an isle away. He was flipping all the available milk packets over and cross referring to a long list he held on the other hand.
Definitely what he was looking for was not stocked in this supermarket.