Nebulous Mooch

Despite my dislike for hypermarts, we went to Tesco’s today to pick up some things that we needed–essentials like rice noodles, peanuts and coconut milk. In the parking lot of Tesco’s, there are these car wash guys. They push these little black carts and wear the required neon green reflective vests that all blue collar workers seem to wear in the UK .  I don’t know how much it costs to have one of them wash your car because our car is such a heap that we’ve never bothered to wash it.

Normally, the car wash guys are a group of African men who gather their carts together in a group towards the center of the parking lot and loudly chat and laugh. As you walk by they call out to you, “You need a wash?” To that question we always make a joke about the pitiful state of our car and say it’s beyond washing.

Today things had changed. The car wash guys were spread out. One man with his cart  was positioned on the crosswalk at each row of cars. The men were all Eastern European now. Gone was the happy car wash mood. It was replaced by disdain. As we passed each man he looked at us like he wanted to get into a fight. I could just imagine them saying, “I will wash your car. Then I will kill you and stuff your body into my little black cart.” Maybe they just don’t like their green reflective vests.

We’re all familiar with the supercenter, those ridiculously large stores that stock anything and everything you can possibly imagine. I’ve never been a fan of these monstrosities.

When I was in college, I went to my first supercenter. They weren’t called that at the time. It was called Harry’s. I’d been shopping at Harry’s for about a year before I realized that they sold groceries there. I’d been going to the store for my clothing needs, completely ignorant of the frozen food section that lay hidden behind the men’s clothing. Sometimes I’m not very observant so I never noticed the people in line behind me with carts full of groceries.

I’d gone to Harry’s with a friend to buy a t-shirt. After a few minutes of sifting through piles of shirts, she said, “I want to buy some apples.”

I thought she meant that after we’d paid for our shirts she wanted to go to the grocery store. That’s not what she meant at all. She walked to the back of the store. There was a whole grocery store back there! Not a few food items, it was an entire grocery store with canned goods and produce and frozen foods.

My friend walked purposefully to the produce section and started picking through a pile of red apples. I was immediately repulsed. “You’re going to eat those?” I asked.

“What else would I do with them?” she laughed.

I just couldn’t get over it. How could you trust food from a store that sells bras? I just couldn’t do it. Clothes and food shouldn’t be sold side by side. I know it’s supposed to be convenient, but it just doesn’t feel right. I never shopped for anything at Harry’s again.

In the UK they have hypermarts. A hypermart is an impossibly large store that never has what I need in stock. I can’t figure out how they have so much and so little at the same time. I tried to buy a bar of soap at one the other day and they only had five choices. How can that be? The store lasts for miles and they only have five different kinds of soap!

If you can’t find something in your local hypermart don’t bother asking the staff because they’re about as lost in the place as you are. One day I went there to buy an umbrella and had to ask four staff members before anyone could tell me anything helpful at all.

I don’t frequent hypermarts because I still have a problem with buying food and clothing in the same place. If I went to them more often I’d probably start to like them. For now I’m all right with letting others have the convenience of one-stop shopping all to themselves.