I was walking through the grocery store yesterday pushing my cart, list in hand just picking up this and that for meals for the week. I could feel eyes on me from the moment I walked down the coffee/juice aisle. I walked slowly, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Someone was following me. I glanced back, as if to check the price on that industrial sized vat of non-dairy creamer milk-esque powder nonsense, and I saw that there was not just one follower, but two. They quickly looked down at the coffee filters when I looked at them. Convinced I was just crazy, I moved on.
I could hear the footsteps behind me. I paused at Swiss Miss Hot Cocoa (no sugar added, plus calcium) and read the box. The footsteps stopped. I glanced, they looked away. I decide to test the devious pair. I back out of the aisle and head to the meat. The four feet follow. I pause at the lobster tank. Oh, aren't these little guys interesting... pause... watch them sit there waiting to die... pause. I glance back. My stalkers look like they are engrossed in the case of frozen shrimp. I move on... quickly. Step out of the way, speed shopper's a comin'. They pick up the pace. I stop abruptly at one pound of ground sirloin for my Nacho Casserole and they stop abruptly at the steaks. I double back. Back to the coffee/juice aisle. No one would go down the aisle they've already been down unless... unless they are after me. So, I stop back in front of the Swiss Miss and they are right on my heels. I turn ready for the first ever Meijer Grocery Store Smack Down and I am pumped. My facial expression said "Do you feel lucky, punks?" And my stalkers stepped right up to me and said, "Miss, can you please reach down that Cranberry Juice. We're too short."
Oh yes... my stalkers were two mini-geezers. They came up to my shoulders and God bless them, they couldn't even reach the third shelf. They were the two cutest old ladies that ever were. They proceeded to stalk me through the entire store asking for me to reach down their laundry detergent (which was also as miniature size. I was tempted to ask where the laundry mat was at the Lollipop Guild, but I thought that would be rude), their eggs, basically anything three shelves up or higher. They were so grateful for my assistance and when I offered to just walk the aisles with them, they wouldn't do it. They didn't want to put me out. Instead they paced me, just 10 feet behind, up and down every single aisle until my shopping was done. If I stopped to grab my 4 oz. can of diced green chilies, they paused admiring the tortilla selection. If I wanted to examine the prices of stick margarine, they would wait by the tub butter until I was finished. Then we would move on, this weird pack of ladies young/tall and old/wee. At one point "Crocheted Sweater Lady" (not her real name, of course) mentioned that she used to be as tall as me. Ahh, back in the day. She shrank. Then she said what a joy it was to be 5 feet 3 inches back then. I am 5 feet 8 inches, so she never really did get to be my height, but by God she used to shop off the top shelves in those days.
I really hate the grocery store, but shopping with Mable and Doris (again, my names) made it kind of fun for me. The best part was that they hailed "see you next Monday" as I walked to the check out. I feel a little guilty, because I won't be back next Monday. If I brought my kids with me, the mini grammies would run, not stalk. So, this was a one time shot for me. So, if you are around Indiana next week and need a few sundries, hit Meijer and help my little old ladies out. I can see myself like that some day (although a taller version), and I hope a sarcastic and rude 30 year old in a hurry will put her attitude in check and get me my Cranberry Juice too. No, not that one. The Meijer brand one. No, the smaller one, please. The one next to that one. No, that one looks dirty. Ok, yes, that one.