rambles

Trader Harry*

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Tonight I went to Trader Joe’s (boy, do I wish this were a sponsored post. It’s not).

First, I made an enemy of the girl with fuchsia lipstick because I stopped in my tracks to compliment her. She gave me such a LOOK that I didn’t even get to tell her that the reason I stopped is that her lipstick looked awesome, and that outfit was on-point, and it takes a very special person to pull off fuchsia. Fuchsia Girl, if you are reading, please know I didn’t mean to block your access to the hummus! I would never do that!

I was disappointed because the sample food was deep-dish pepperoni pizza. I remembered that at my Trader Joe’s in Portland, the employees would always have vegan/vegetarian snacks on-hand whenever they served meat samples. But this is New York, and in New York, you can give out any kind of sample and people will eat it. So probably these Traders don’t even know how many people they alienated with that pepperoni. Also, they almost certainly don’t care. But it’s okay because we’re all too busy becoming what dreams are made of to get hung up on these things, right?

At this Trader Joe’s you have to get in a line that loops around the store, next to a Trader holding an “END OF LINE” flag. Then, you wait to get sorted into three lanes to be further directed to one of the thirty cash registers. The three lanes each have a flag above them: one is a bunch of grapes, one is a wedge of cheese, and one is a steak. I don’t really like waiting in line, especially because you always get jostled by people who are still shopping, and I get worried that they are going to try to cut after they grab that tub of yogurt (so far nobody has cut in front of me, so let’s all have faith in humanity). But when I get to the front I get excited about being sorted, and I pretend the classification has some deeper meaning.

If I get grapes, I try—but fail—to remember when they are in season and send happy vibes to the United Farm Workers, Dolores Huerta, and César Chavez.

If I get cheese, I smile because it reminds me of how much I love Devin and cheesehead hats.

If I get steak, I remember how medium-rare steak was my favorite food when I was ten and how cool it is that my mom didn’t make me order from the kids’ menu if I didn’t feel like it.

Tonight I got steak and was sent to register 26.

At register 26 I impressed Trader Harry* with my most prized possession:

This NPR tote bag.
This NPR tote bag.

Harry loves NPR, like me, but his favorite show is ‘The Takeaway’, which is one of the few shows I have never heard. He scoffs at ‘Morning Edition’ and ‘All Things Considered’ because ‘they just don’t compare’.

Harry has a girlfriend who tap-dances, and when he talks about her, his face lights up.

Harry makes sure you get entered in the raffle for free groceries if you bring your own bag.

Harry guesses I always buy more groceries than I can comfortably carry because of a number of things: ‘the quality of the food, the prices––you know you’re getting a good deal, so it’s worth the sacrifice’.

Harry knows that the official closing time of his store is 10 PM. But he let me in on a little secret, and if you read all of this, you deserve to know it, too:

If you get there at 9:55, you can take your time and shop in peace!

Reporting live from a city where you need a strategy to buy groceries,
kristy

*Not his real name.

Trader Harry*

It’s been a minute.

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Like I mentioned previously, I’ve been working as a temp(orary office assistant).

I recently finished an assignment at a historical society. That office is filled with archivists who wear blue smocks and write in pencil–and not mechanical pencils either, the yellow wooden ones that need sharpening. And guess whose desk was the Official Home of the Office’s Only Electric Sharpener. Yes! Mine (how did you guess?). I really liked that honor because it meant that sometimes I got to talk to the archivists who are generally a quiet and reserved bunch.

I got to know quite a few people in the office, actually, and once suggested that we order lunch from a nearby restaurant, which caused quite the commotion. We talked about it one day at lunch, and word spread around the office, and the next day six employees came prepared, with cash in hand. The restaurant has this on-line order form that you use to pick the ingredients in your meal, and that morning my desk was transformed into an Order Kiosk abuzz with people comparing Brown Rice to Veggie Brown Rice, and discussing the merits of Cauliflower and Cabbage. Even those who weren’t ordering gathered around, voiced their opinions, and witnessed the miracle of ordering lunch. And the best part is that at lunch, people actually talked to each other.

On-line Order Form
On-line Order Form

And for days after, people talked about the lunch. I got asked what I ordered and if it was any good and if I would recommend the restaurant. Some people told me it had been A Great Idea.

A few weeks later, it was my last day. Two of my favorite co-workers took me to lunch at Coffee Shop, a restaurant in Union Square that fascinates me. Its décor is so mid-century that you almost feel transported to a 1950s American diner only most of the servers are aspiring models, so they all wear the trendiest clothes and artfully mussed hair, embodying everything that is ‘Now’. And oh yeah, the menu is largely Brazilian food (?!).

We had a good lunch and at the end I told them how much I’d liked working there. They in turn told me how much they’d liked working with me. Then, one of them said, ‘The office will be so quiet!’ and the other nodded fervently.

Totally a compliment, right?

Riiiight?

It’s been a minute.

The Subway of Burritos

kristy, 3 Comments

On Friday I treated myself to a burrito bowl from Chipotle (no endorsement implied). Since I was by myself, I either got to witness a love story unfold or just eavesdropped on the people sitting at the next table. Your interpretation depends on how much you like to dramatize real life, and we all know where I stand on that.

The people sitting there were a guy and a girl in their late teens. And the guy contingent (let’s call him Sam) pulled out all the stops to impress his date (let’s call her Jamie). Like, I’m pretty sure he paid for her food and didn’t even give her a hard time about ordering a salad when everybody knows the best part about Chipotle is the cilantro rice. He even asked her ‘What’s that?’ and pretended to be very interested when she answered ‘Salad dressing’.

Sam had obviously suggested the restaurant and asked Jamie for her thoughts on it. Encouraged by her positive response (‘It’s good’), he proceeded to lay down his game and impress her with his knowledge of Chipotle trivia.

• ‘Yeah, I really like it. I’ve always thought that it’s kind of like the Subway of burritos’.
• ‘There are mad Chipotles in Atlanta. Like everywhere you turn, there’s a Chipotle’.
• ‘It has choices, but not too many choices. I think they got kids’ meals, but it’s not on the menu’.

They were both Latin@, so after exhausting the ‘cool facts about Chipotle’ conversation, Sam asked Jamie if she thought her grandmother would like Chipotle. She shrugged. He said, ‘Yeah, I think my grandma might like it’. And then he asked the question he’d been building up to all day. And his voice was a little bit higher-pitched (classic ‘nervous but trying to sound cooly casual’, you know the deal).

Sam: So, do you think you’ll come to the party tonight?
Jamie: Nah. I gotta get some rest.
Sam: What? You like partying.
Jamie: Yeah, but you can’t do it all the time.
Sam: Oh yeah, mmhm, yeah. (Fake laugh like, ‘I know aaaall about that!’) It might be short. You should come.

And then, she switched the subject just like that and asked why he wasn’t wearing his watch.

Sam: Oh yeah, well, I had to stop wearing it ’cause it wasn’t real. My dad gave it to me. It looks cool, but I think I got bad karma ’cause if I see people wearing fakes, I point it out…I’m like, ‘Nahhh’, so I can’t wear it.

Have you guessed the twist in this love story yet? It’s actually a tale of unrequited love. It took all my self-restraint not to hug him and say, ‘She’s just not that into you, friend’. Jamie only said like fifteen words the whole time even though Sam was being polite and asking lots of questions. And that Chipotle-Subway analogy? Inspired! Plus, he made himself so vulnerable by admitting his watch was fake. What kind of person stops wearing his favorite accessory because he believes in karma? A person with integrity, that’s who. I mean, I actually left before they did, so I don’t know for sure that Sam’s love was unrequited. Do you think there’s a chance Jamie was just being shy because she was nervously working up the courage to tell Sam she’s crazy about him? And do you agree that Sam is so cool, asking about grandmas on the first date?

Disclaimer: It seemed blog-worthy at the time.

The Subway of Burritos