Grocery Outlet

I turned right at the light and pulled into the Grocery Outlet.  As a public service, I’d like to eradicate the mystery for those of you who’ve always been terrified to enter.

First, to dispel some rumors:

The grocery outlet is NOT an outlet wall socket where you plug something in and groceries appear.  (Like on the Jetsons!)  Nor is it an outlet permitting a way of escape.  (Like the bathroom exit at a cheap diner.)  And, no, it is not an outlet mall where name brands give you a two-percent discount. (Like at the beach. Where I wish I were right now!)  Nor is it an outlet like a hobby that is a release or expression of creativity.  (Like this blog.  Sort of?)

Here’s what the grocery outlet is: a mercantile establishment located in a boorishly-painted, sub-par building emblazoned with cheesy posters, containing a plethora of cast-offs from every freezer case and canned-good shelf in the wider county area.

I tend to zero in on the freezers, cereals, and cleaning supplies.  It’s also not a bad idea to check out the fresh produce, believe it or not; you’re hit-and-miss, but I can usually get stuff for tonight’s salad and a bag of nectarines.

I tend to enjoy snooping through the household and gift items, but if one of those jumps into my cart, I seize it with my good arm and fast-pitch it right back onto the shelf it came from.

They used to call the place “Canned Food Outlet.”  But they changed it, because it’s whole lot more. A word to the wise?  Stay away from the canned goods.  Some of those labels look like they were printed in the 1950’s.

One thing I like about it:  The college student that rings you up takes a ball-point pen and circles your savings.  Today’s receipt says, “By Shopping Us You Saved $27.40.”  Somehow the logic on that one breaks down; I only went there because we were out of bread. 47 bucks later… Hmph.  I should’ve listened to my momma; she warned me that all men are liars.

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