Busted at the Co-op

Sometimes it can be difficult to live a coherent lifestyle. A former friendly supervisor once explained to her boss upon my departure why I could afford to quit my job, “She and her husband are hippies. They live in a commune. They eat rice and beans. They sleep on mats!” She couldn’t hear that I lived in my own normal home in a close neighborhood, ate a lot of steak and slept on a $1600 tempurpedic.

The other day I came face-to-face with my own image of my self. I was at the Sacramento Natural Foods Co-op. In a 10 minute flurry, I picked up organic vegetables, organic spelt bread, organic green tea, organic shampoos, organic bulk oatmeal and a case of unsweetened almond milk. Because I was nursing a hurt shoulder, the clerk helped me take it to the car.

On the way to the car, a wave of shame swept over me as to what he would see when we opened the rear door. It occurred to me to have him load the groceries in the front or side just to avoid this exposure. But then just as easily as it came, I dismissed the thought. Surely he won’t notice, I convinced myself. Or if he does, it won’t matter. It’s really not that unusual or embarrassing.

After two beeps of the key chain, the rear door to my Mazda 5 wagon/van unlocked itself. I raised it up and drew in my breath. “Woah!” said the clerk. “Lots of soda!” waiving his hand at the 4 cases of diet soda sprawled over the rear compartment.

“haha, isn’t that incongruous?” I babbled inanely. “I go to the co-op and shop for all this healthy stuff and then I drink diet coke. Haha! I’ve tried. I’ve talked to your management several times. I’ve repeatedly asked for the co-op to carry bulk free range organic diet coke but you never do!”

The clerk laughed nervously, backing quickly away from the car.

“Have a nice day,” he says, pressing a button on the cart that flags me as a security risk from here on out. I peal out, lickety split.