A Commentary on the Commissary

Well, we are back in the military world for sure. I can hear TAPS being played at 10 pm each night when I'm lying down to go to sleep, ID cards are checked as we drive onto the nearby installations, AND we're grocery shopping at the commissary again!

It's funny, after going to the commissary here at the Air Force Base (it's the closest to our house)a couple of times, it dawned on me that all commissaries everywhere must be the same.

Let me take you through the store...

The produce offers a wide variety but not a great selection. Bananas are often overripe and grapes are usually small.

In the meat department, you can get 81% fat free ground beef or 96% fat free ground beef and nothing in between. So your food is either greasy greasy or super dry.

The aisles are filled with people who stop their buggies and read EVERYTHING on the price labels (you never know what might be on sale) and sort through ALL of their coupons. They usually have all of their family members too. So, this combination often leaves me at a standstill in the middle of an aisle. In the grocery store. Trying to look interested at the only thing in front of me...hair relaxers... until someone makes a move. You see, I hate to grocery shop and standing still in one just feels unnatural to me. I like to get in and get out.

If the aisles aren't filled with people, they're often filled with cases of whatever the season brings. This usually takes place in the freezer section. This allows room for only one buggy to pass through. So, inevitably you start at one end and someone starts at the other and uh, you meet in the middle and one of you has to back up...you get the picture.

Then, you get to the pre checkout line. Yep, there's a line to get in line. Think of doing business in a bank (do people still do that?). You know how it goes, you get in line and then when the next teller is available, you proceed. Well, that's how it is at the commissary too. There's nothing wrong with it...it's just different and for some reason feels odd. There is usually a mechanical box that shouts out which line to go to next. And man, if you get up to the front of the line and that box is not working...what do you do then?? How do I know which line to go to? How did everyone before me know which line to go to?? If you're lucky when the box isn't working, a commissary worker will be there to tell you where to go. But if you're not lucky, you're left to decide all on your own! Oh no! And there's just something that feels wrong about going to a line you haven't been told to go to! :) ha! Can you tell I'm a rule follower??

And finally, there is the bagger. This person is usually a sweet sweet Asian lady or an older retired gentleman. And they take their job very seriously. So much so that when you get home, you can hardly get to your groceries because the bags are knotted so! And you almost must allow them to take your bags to your car. I'm pretty sure the only money they make is from tips. At least that was what I always heard growing up from the kids who worked at the commissary. The folks are usually always very nice, but it's a bit awkward making conversation on the way to your car. I wonder...how many times a day do they talk about the weather?

And that's pretty much it. This isn't meant to be a complaint, well not totally. I mean, I continue to choose to shop there. The prices are much better than the regular grocery store and who doesn't love a secret store that you can only go to if you have an ID card? Let's just say, you're not gonna get the frills at the commissary, but you might come out with a good story!

Do you have a commissary story??