I was on the phone with my sister yesterday as she walked into Costco. “I just have to get two things,” she said. “Eggs and pancake mix. Ooh! They have capris.” After she perused the spring-colored pants, she said, “Darn it. What was I going to get? Eggs and …?” “Pancake mix,” I reminded her over the phone. “That’s right.” A few minutes later, she said, “Hmm! What’s this? Nearly Naked …?” “Popcorn,” I said. “I saw the ad.” “You’re right. It is popcorn. Looks good.”
As we talked, she sampled some things. She wondered if their hummus was good, and went in search of that. She forgot one more time what she was supposed to get besides eggs. “Pancake mix,” I reminded her. “Oh, that’s right. Darn. I forgot, and I’m at the front of the store again.” Her voice strained. “Now I have to push this cart all the way back to get it.” “How heavy can it be?” I asked. “You have one thing. Two if you bought the hummus.”
Her voice still strained from pushing the cart. “Sure.”
After she got pancake mix, she headed back to get in line.
“You know, I walked in here and needed two things. I was perfectly fine and happy at home without any of this stuff, except for needing these two items, until I walked in here. Now I have a cartful.”
You might suspect from this little scenario that my sister is a bit of an airhead. While it’s true that she’s blonde, she’s also one of the most focused people I know. Goal-oriented, high achiever, timely accomplisher of difficult tasks. That’s my sister. She’s also someone who’s religious in keeping a strict budget. And yet, the siren call of capris and popcorn and I’m not sure what all else worked their magic on her, and she walked out of Costco with a cartful of groceries.
What happened? I’ve been giggling about it, that’s usually the kind of thing that happens to me, the less focused sister. But apparently none of us are completely immune when the merchandise beckons. I’ve heard stories of people from other countries about when they first walk into an American grocery store. The Atlantic described how a newcomer would view what we see as normal as impossibly well-stocked supermarkets, gleaming stores, stuffed with remarkably fresh produce from every season, no matter the time of year. This is about a place we are forced to visit when we’re running low on milk.
We have a plethora of whatever our heart desires, our only limits are our budgets and the size of our carts. When faced with a choice of thousands of desirable items, how can we turn it all down and just get the two things we came for?
I’m asking because I don’t have it figured out.
So when my sister lamented about her full grocery cart, I could commiserate.
“I know the feeling,” I told her. “What are you having for dinner tonight?” There was a prolonged moment of silence before she said, “Maybe I’d better buy a rotisserie chicken.”
— Check out Denise Roundy at TheTreesAndI.blogspot.com.
