Adventures in grocery shopping

There is something that’s been going on in my personal life that I have been very reluctant to discuss. It’s been more than I can bear and has altered life as I once knew it.

It’s about my HEB.

For those of y’all who don’t know, HEB is a grocery store chain based in South Texas. The founder’s name was Howard E. Butt, thus, HEB. You have to admit HEB rolls off the tongue much better than, say, The Butt Store.

Unless you only sell hemorrhoid cream.

I spend over half my life at HEB. It is like my home away from home.

It all started about two months ago when I realized that my favorite manager, Dwayne, had been transferred to another store. I kind of knew it would happen eventually because Dwayne was the Michael Phelps of grocery store managers. (See how I just worked in an Olympic reference?)

Losing Dwayne was like losing a member of my family. He had been there for me since Caroline was a newborn baby, doling out Buddy Bucks and handing out balloons. Every time we went to the store, Caroline would look for Dwayne and run to give him a hug.

But Dwayne had to move on to greener HEB pastures.

The next thing I knew, HEB decided to quit carrying Tyson skinless boneless chicken breasts, which has required me to completely cut poultry out of my family’s diet because just the thought of raw chicken, or even cooked chicken with skin, makes me want to systematically rid the world of all chickens.

So, I’ve had my struggles with HEB as of late but, due to their South Texas monopoly, my only other option is to shop at Walmart and, frankly, I’d rather hoe my own garden.

Two weeks ago, I walked into HEB and noticed they had taken up all the linoleum. I figured we were getting some stained concrete floors and I was cool with that. I can handle change in reasonable increments, especially if it’s fashionable change.

However, over the last two weeks I have been to HEB about twenty-six times and each time the store is in a bigger mess than it was the last time I was there.

There is motor oil where the bread used to be, toilet paper where the Diet Coke was, and cereal in the middle of the produce department. I haven’t been this confused since I accidentally took twice the recommended dosage of some prescription cough medicine last winter.

I wander aimlessly around the store hoping I’ll find at least a few things I actually need. At times I stop and ponder why the wine is on the same aisle as the diapers and baby food, but then I remember Caroline’s first year of life and realize it’s just a clever marketing ploy.

The worst part is that every time I go back, the whole store has been completely rearranged again. So just when I figure out that the ice cream is across from the tampons (there’s that clever marketing!), they go and change it all around.

I kind of think they’re messing with me.

Yesterday, Caroline and I went to the store to load up on groceries. I was hot and tired because we’d already run about fifty-eight errands that morning and I just wanted the store trip to be over. Naturally, Caroline sensed this and decided she wanted to ride on one of the bench carts that create more navigational challenges than the Queen Mary in a swimming pool.

I knew it was going to be a special trip when I managed to knock over an entire display of Pecan Sandies before we’d even been there for five minutes. In my defense, it wasn’t really my fault since they weren’t on the cookie aisle but rather next to the charcoal and lighter fluid.

We went through the whole store like we were on a bad scavenger hunt while Caroline provided running commentary for everything. “WOW MAMA! YOU REALLY KNOCKED OVER A LOT OF COOKIES!!”

Finally, I had almost everything I needed, but couldn’t find the bottled water. I was desperate to find bottled water. Please, OZARKA, help me out.

I couldn’t find any HEB staff to assist me in my quest. They were all too busy unpacking boxes and arbitrarily moving around the stock. I was tempted to head back to the diaper aisle and load up a case of wine for immediate consumption.

About the time my blood pressure was about to shoot off the charts, I located the bottled water. On the dog food aisle.

Naturally.

We headed to the shortest checkout line I could find and just when I thought I was safe, Caroline yelled, “LOOK MAMA! THAT LADY IS SHOWING HER BOOBIES!”

I was too embarrassed to look around to see what she was talking about, but honestly I can’t blame that woman. She was probably hoping to attract the attention of an HEB employee to help her find the bottled water.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.