Friend or Not-Friend: A Grocery Store Litmus Test

Is it wrong to make judgements about people based on the experience of standing behind them in line at the grocery store? 

I wondered this the other day as I stood in line at Safeway waiting my turn, idly observing the man in line at the register in front of me and thinking: “Well, obviously he and I could never be friends.”

My unconcious musing startled me, because I like to think I crave diversity in my life and even work to insure it’s there, so even though his behavior indicated he and I were perhaps a little different, I was surprised at my conviction. 

But I could just tell . . . just from standing behind him in line . . . that we would never be friends.

For one thing, my line companion was obviously militant about ecological grocery shopping.  This I generally applaud, and I joined him in having brought along my own reusable grocery bags for the occasion.  I had mine readily at hand, however, unlike my not-friend, whose bags were stuck at the bottom of his ecofriendly rolling cart under a very heavy ecofriendly (cloth) bag of recycling yet to be recycled. 

Note: it’s hard (and awkward for everyone in line) when you try to get your grocery bags out from under your recycling at the bottom of your rolling cart in the very small aisle between the moving conveyor belt and the gum and candy rack. 

Annoying.

Next, my not-friend unloaded all of his produce.  This was quite a large percentage of his grocery order, but it was not contained in any sort of grouping mechanism.  I suppose that if you really cared about the environment you’d want to avoid store-provided produce grouping mechanisms (also known as plastic bags), but surely you could think of another solution instead? 

If you don’t, you see, all the (organic) apples and oranges you buy will roll all over the conveyor belt as the cashier attempts to get them to the scanner.  What resulted, in the case of my not-friend line buddy, was numerous apples dispersing every which way, some falling completely off the conveyor belt and rolling under the counter, his ecofriendly cart, my not-ecofriendly cart, the candy and magazine racks, and the not-ecofriendly carts of the two people in line behind me. 

Imagine, if you will, the ridiculousness that ensued after that. 

Also annoying.

Once the various fruit items were all rescued, accounted for, weighed (albeit with a significant degree of difficulty for the cashier), and added to the bill, the other grocery items in my not-friend’s ecofriendly cart were placed on the conveyor belt.  Previous events had hinted at the unlikely prospect of he and I ever being friends in real life, and as I watched him put his remaining groceries on the belt and compared them, one by one, to mine, I knew it for sure.  In fact, maybe I casually threw my coat over my own not-ecofriendly cart because I was a little chagrined about what I had in my cart.

Note:

• His cart, about 10 organic apples.
• My cart, about 10 bottles of Safeway brand apple juice cocktail (not even pure apple juice, I know, but it was on sale, geez!).
• His cart, two bunches of organic broccoli (shedding broccoli dust all over everything, btw).
• My cart, two bags of Safeway brand quick frozen (not organic) broccoli chunks.
• His cart, snack items including dried cranberries, cashews, and several bags of Genisoy (low fat, low sodium) chips.
• My cart, two extra large bags of Doritos, one bag curly Cheeto cheese puffs, one bag Lay’s Sour Cream and Onion Potato Chips (not low fat), and the ever-healthy bag of Tostitos Brand corn chips.  (Corn=healthy, right?).

The contrast went on, and it was striking.  Him, organic yogurt.  Me, Yoplait Thick ‘n Creamy (full fat).  Him, a block of tofu.  Me, Oscar Meyer hot dogs, two packs.  Him, 5-grain organic whole wheat bread.  Me, one loaf Wonderbread (vitamin enriched, if you must know . . .).

You get the idea.

It’s true, I could probably take another look at the level of healthiness (or unhealthiness, as the case may be) represented in my cart, but this blog entry is not about the nutrition of myself or my family. 

Instead (would you disagree?) my assessment was, immediately, that my line mate and I would never be friends, either in line at Safeway or anywhere else.  The disparities in our grocery lists alone would surely mean we’d share nothing in common in real life at all.

Finally all of his hemp bags were packed and he was on his way out the door to load up his bike, then I got my turn in line.  I confess I was thoroughly annoyed with my not-friend and glad to see him and his organic produce go.  Later, however, I wondered about my grocery store litmus test.  My line-mate and I clearly had different tastes in grocery items, but did that really mean we could never be friends?  And, if it did, what does that say about my own ability to tolerate and even welcome diversity in my life?

Despite my best efforts at ignoring the obvious, it seems I left the grocery store that day with more than a few bags of Doritos.  With all the talk about diversity in congregations in general and our own attempts at Calvary to be thoughtful and intentional about how we welcome each other, seems I need to think a little more about the litmus tests I used to categorize people in my life. 

And maybe, possibly, I might concede that the grocery story litmus test might not be the most accurate.