Now, when I say them, I don't literally mean the greeters at your grocery store of choice. I really mean the people who take it upon themselves to talk to the young woman shopping by herself. In the past few months, I've had someone give me advice on how to choose a mate, someone else tell me a joke about sex, someone else discuss the nitty gritty details of her custody battle and yet another fully stop me and explain the merits of particular brands of hard cider (though I had very fruity girly alcohol in my own hands). Along with the few regulars (as I call them), "Where'd you find X?", "Which X is better?" "How do you choose X-produce?". But those bother me far less. Let me be so so very clear. I do not seek advice, I do not speak to people who don't work at the place I am shopping (nor do I work at these locations), I am not a therapist and I do not like hard cider.
It's not as amusing as you'd think. In fact, it kind of scares me. I don't mean to seem like I'm terrified of strangers, not at least in this case. We're all grocery shopping, we're just going about our routines. It's okay to feel some sense of camaraderie. But seriously? I don't know you. I don't know your name, I didn't ask you a darn thing. The lady who told me about her custody battle? She started the whole thing by asking me about Diet Coke cans. Apparently, they've changed their design and it's all just too much change for her to handle.
...
Lady, hold it together. I've been through tough times too, including talking about murder and roommates in my first class of the day right after my roommate was murdered. It's okay. You're stressed and possibly on the verge of tears, but you're managing the best you can and that's good. But don't you dare think it's acceptable to walk up to some random person and rant to them.
When these situations happen, I find myself making noncommittal grunts and nods, sometimes even a half-smile. But I don't encourage them. I don't know what it is about me. I've got my list, I've got my cart, I'm moving through the store with purpose. Why do they feel like they can come up to me? Do any of you have stories about grocery greeters?
