WANTEDYesterday at our usual supermarket, Haiko, they suddenly did not have any flavored yogurt. India is notable in the yogurt department in that they have approximately 8.3 million brands and types and container sizes of plain yogurt, whereas flavored yogurt (a) is only available in 100g single serving size and (2) only comes in mango or strawberry. And then apparently sometimes you just can't have it at all, suckah! Like yesterday.
So today in pursuit of yogurt I decided to walk down to D Mart, which is the slightly closer but way more suckier supermarket. First of all, they take your purse at the door and make you zip it up inside a (dirty, gross) canvas bag that gets "locked" with a plastic garbage tie type thingy. I assume this is intended to be some kind of security measure, because lord knows there is a wealth of paper goods and laundry detergent you could squirrel away in your little purse if they didn't put the smackdown on you before you even entered the building. And then the cashiers have scissors in order to liberate your money just in time for you to hand it over and get herded the hell out. I find this completely annoying as well as insulting, so I just take whatever payment options can fit in my pocket and except for the usual suspicious glares the guards leave me alone.
Also, D Mart is a total goddamn zoo at all times, partly because it tries to be all stores to all people--they carry groceries, small appliances, clothing, dishes, cookware, sheets and towels and curtains, bulk grains and flours, toiletries and perfumes, and they have a pharmacy and a bakery and a paneer counter. All this is crammed into a building the size of maybe two standard 7-11 markets. No matter what time of day, you are sure to stand in line for the checkout for at least 10 minutes, being jostled from all directions by screaming children who are demanding whatever toys and tasty treats that are on prominent display in all the spaces where you otherwise would be able to stand comfortably in line.
So I go and get my mango and strawberry yogurts, which of course I have to buy like six or eight of because they only come in individual serving size, and I grab a couple of other items while I'm at it, and then I begin my glacial approach to the cash register. (I remember once in the summer Casey and I were trying to buy ice cream there and finally gave up because we realized the ice cream would melt by the time we checked out.) After 10 minutes I finally get to the counter and put my little basket down. The cashier looks into it and announces, "Five items only." I think, wha? "Five items only, ma'am." I say, "Oh, this is an express lane?" and she nods. I have no idea where this fact was indicated, but it certainly was not on any sign that I noticed, despite having had 10 leisurely minutes to contemplate my immediate surroundings. The cashier indicates that I will have to go through a different line. So I think, "Ugh," and pick up the basket and then realize as I turn around that even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to get to the back of any of the other lines without forcing a dozen people out of the way, because it was a total goddamn zoo (see above), and so I look back and say, "You can't just ring this up?" She shakes her head no. I look at her like, are you fuckin' kidding me? You are going to make me stand ANOTHER 10 minutes in line just to buy yogurt? She indicates that I could just step in to the front of the line at the register next to hers. I think, yeah, that is going to go over real well with the 15 people in THAT line. I ask again: "Seriously. You can't ring this up?" She shakes her head, like the register is physically incapable of logging more than five items or something.
So then, in an attempt to further cement my local standing as That Big Old Crazy-Ass American Lady, I plopped my basket down in front of her, threw my hands in the air, said "FINE," and turned around and walked out of the store.
D Mart is officially dead to me.
So today in pursuit of yogurt I decided to walk down to D Mart, which is the slightly closer but way more suckier supermarket. First of all, they take your purse at the door and make you zip it up inside a (dirty, gross) canvas bag that gets "locked" with a plastic garbage tie type thingy. I assume this is intended to be some kind of security measure, because lord knows there is a wealth of paper goods and laundry detergent you could squirrel away in your little purse if they didn't put the smackdown on you before you even entered the building. And then the cashiers have scissors in order to liberate your money just in time for you to hand it over and get herded the hell out. I find this completely annoying as well as insulting, so I just take whatever payment options can fit in my pocket and except for the usual suspicious glares the guards leave me alone.
Also, D Mart is a total goddamn zoo at all times, partly because it tries to be all stores to all people--they carry groceries, small appliances, clothing, dishes, cookware, sheets and towels and curtains, bulk grains and flours, toiletries and perfumes, and they have a pharmacy and a bakery and a paneer counter. All this is crammed into a building the size of maybe two standard 7-11 markets. No matter what time of day, you are sure to stand in line for the checkout for at least 10 minutes, being jostled from all directions by screaming children who are demanding whatever toys and tasty treats that are on prominent display in all the spaces where you otherwise would be able to stand comfortably in line.
So I go and get my mango and strawberry yogurts, which of course I have to buy like six or eight of because they only come in individual serving size, and I grab a couple of other items while I'm at it, and then I begin my glacial approach to the cash register. (I remember once in the summer Casey and I were trying to buy ice cream there and finally gave up because we realized the ice cream would melt by the time we checked out.) After 10 minutes I finally get to the counter and put my little basket down. The cashier looks into it and announces, "Five items only." I think, wha? "Five items only, ma'am." I say, "Oh, this is an express lane?" and she nods. I have no idea where this fact was indicated, but it certainly was not on any sign that I noticed, despite having had 10 leisurely minutes to contemplate my immediate surroundings. The cashier indicates that I will have to go through a different line. So I think, "Ugh," and pick up the basket and then realize as I turn around that even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to get to the back of any of the other lines without forcing a dozen people out of the way, because it was a total goddamn zoo (see above), and so I look back and say, "You can't just ring this up?" She shakes her head no. I look at her like, are you fuckin' kidding me? You are going to make me stand ANOTHER 10 minutes in line just to buy yogurt? She indicates that I could just step in to the front of the line at the register next to hers. I think, yeah, that is going to go over real well with the 15 people in THAT line. I ask again: "Seriously. You can't ring this up?" She shakes her head, like the register is physically incapable of logging more than five items or something.
So then, in an attempt to further cement my local standing as That Big Old Crazy-Ass American Lady, I plopped my basket down in front of her, threw my hands in the air, said "FINE," and turned around and walked out of the store.
D Mart is officially dead to me.
