The Commissary

As an Air Force wife of 15+ years you get into certain habits and methods of doing things. They are most likely not the "convenient" way of doing things nor the "quick" way of doing things... but adaptability is the lesson here.

So I'm off in my loud, bumpy SUV listening to Kaden's Nintendo DS squealing and beeping all the way to the Commissary. For those of you "civilians" (ha--I love how condescending that sounds every time I use it--everyone in the military does, by the way) that aren't familiar with this word: the Commissary is the grocery store on the Air Force base. It's a good 35 minute drive and guarantees quite a bit of gas burned in my guzzling SUV but..... it's what I do. We, military wives are somewhat brainwashed into thinking that are husbands are the only ones that are.. well... "brainwashed"... and we shake our heads at how they snap to when a colonel walks by or yank their hats off when they walk indoors... but as pathetic as it is to admit--we're just as bad. We drive half the morning to grocery shop in a beige painted perfectly square building only to find half the items on our grocery list (pear viniagrette, my butt) and then wait in line for 30-55 minutes listening to the automated sign saying "Next Please!" every couple of minutes. Because a day at the commissary is an "event" rather than just a monotonous moment in the lives of so many you will find elderly retired military couples pushing and pulling 3 to 4 shopping carts loaded with food... like it was free. These people drive hours to shop at the commissary--mostly so they can tell other elderly people in their little towns and villages that they, well... 'shopped at the commissary'. That is apparently, something to be envied over the age of 65. They do it, however for the same reason I do it: We're convinced it's cheaper. We're sure that the $3.98/pkg chicken breasts are worth the time, energy and gas used for the trip. We've never had it any other way so why change anything? We assume civilians run to Wal-Mart and Crest and Homeland and return home half a day later just like us. It's quite shocking to find out otherwise so I don't share that information with anyone once I'm on base. I'd hate to be the bubble burster.

Once you're in the commissary, you might as well pretend you have a uniform on. In some commissaries (you'll LOVE this) there are actually arrows painted on the floor because you can only go down the aisle in the way that the arrow is pointing. God help the person that GOES THE WRONG DIRECTION. From the looks you recieve, friend, you are going straight to hell. So if you complete an aisle only to remember that you FORGOT the salad dressing guess what? That's right---you have to circle around the entire aisle to start it all over again. And there's no backtracking!! Don't you dare remember the salad dressing once you're already at the peanut butter because if you try and walk backwards with your cart someone WILL slam you in the heel. And on purpose. I've seen the sweetest of old ladies take people out by slamming the achilles. It's a move that all 'good' commissary shoppers know. Also--make sure that you start in produce. Don't even think about starting anywhere else. You will throw everyone's rhythm out of whack. If you get to the check out line and your tomatoes aren't smashed, you did something wrong---and people WILL notice. Oh and don't even think about asking for plastic. I don't care if there's a monsoon outside--take the freaking paper bags. You will avoid the tsks from the granola eaters that just PCSd (moved) from Colorado and Oregon. I think the last thing that's crucial to this shopping trip is the tip. That's right, I said 'tip'. Some idiot teenager or person that doesn't speak English will throw all your groceries into your environmentally friendly bags (with the bread on the bottom next to the toilet cleaner) and then stack them all on top of each other in a cart. They will follow you out to your car pretending to make small talk where you spend most of your time saying "What?" because you can't understand a gosh darn word they're saying. You stand and watch them put all the bags in your car on top of each other and then look at you for that tip. Yep. You drove all the way out here to save that money on chicken breast and you now have to hand it over to someone that just ruined half your groceries. And it's never enough. I promise. $2.00 $10.00.. it doesn't matter. They think they're changing the world and you just don't appreciate their effort. Next time I think I will just give hugs.

So here I am unloading all of my smashed groceries and going through my list to see what I need to get at Wal-Mart tomorrow. sigh. But you know what? At least I followed every single one of those freaking arrows....