Veronica's Meltdown

Veronica’s Meltdown

“I quit!”, Veronica repeated, “I’m done!”

Looking around she noted the grocery store had continued to fill with people. Mostly women, a few harassed-looking mothers with children in tow. All wearing reserved, “mission-ready” faces. Guarding their eyes, the shoppers searched and scanned shelves, yet avoided unnecessary eye contact with others as they pushed their carts down the aisle.

 The moment Veronica entered the parking lot, she knew it was a bad idea to come on a Saturday morning. After circling the parking lot twice, she finally located a tight space between two oversized pickups that seem to mushroom over her little  Prius. She sighed, hoping the wide doors would not smack her little side mirrors.

Crossing the parking lot was like a game of dodgeball as she navigated shoppers maneuvering carts of goods, vehicles pulling out, and mothers squawking at their children to pay attention. As soon as she got to the entrance, Veronica joined a queue,  waiting for a cart. The impatient group studied cell phones or watched as a teenage boy tried to manage a chain of shopping carts back into position. When it was finally her turn, Veronica had to wrestle the cart free, pinching her fingers in the process. She shuddered at the thought of lurking germs infesting the handles. In a low whisper, she mumbled a reminder,  “Don’t touch your face..need  sanitizer.”

Stopping next to a jolly display of pumpkins, with her trophy cart now sanitized, Veronica examined her short food list. It will be a snap to get in and get out, she thought. But, by the time she reached the bakery, she had been rammed twice by carts and another had grazed her on her backside. The bile of irritation was beginning to stir in the back of her throat. Then a disgruntled voice in her head joined in clamoring,   “This is ridiculous”. Nevertheless, she still managed to force a smile in response to a guilty apology issued by a man with a balding head.

Something about the day, the situation, the noise, and the commotion irked her as she looked around and noticed the layout of the store filled with people. Veronica suddenly felt manipulated – why is there a coffee shop? What is the deal with the flowers? Are all these different kinds of peppers and apples necessary? “ I don’t want any of this. I want simple.” She whispered under her breath.

The subconscious impulse to walk out started to nudge her as she picked up a couple cans of cream of mushroom soup. An advertisement nearby with recipes reminded her that soup was essential for imparting all meals with a home-cooked flavor.

 This was a fatal comment,” as  Veronica began to accuse the food already in her cart. She began by staring at a can of pork and beans. “Do I really need to buy you today?”  Edging her cart along, Veronica then verbally attacked the bananas. “You are entirely too green, positively lime colored. . I won’t be eating you until Thursday.”  Her ranting stirred anger and she began to question,  “ Why am I spending this lovely day in this grocery store?

Narrowing her eyes, she thought,  Look at these people rushing about, filling their carts with a gluttonous level of food. Glaring at middle age man in a suit she shot a dart. Does your wife know you are paying $16 per pound for that ribeye steak? When a harried-looking woman passed, she direct the condemning internal comment, “Look at all that frosting. No wonder your kids look top heavy, just like those  cupcakes?”

Veronica ended her tirade after deciphering a curious package label in a fellow shopper’s cart. “What kind of a person eats dried seaweed?”  

Then Veronica smugly admitted  I’ve become a food judge!” as she leaned over to shove a thick chocolate cheesecake under a package of toilet paper. Eyeing the bag of Reese’s peanut butter cups lying half hidden beside a can of olives. She then accused, “ You are not my friend. You are only good for me as far as the first four inches of my tongue!”

Glancing down, she blinked twice as Captain Crunch winked at her. she felt he was patronizing her and retaliated by declaring, “I’m not buying your milk! “ to the blue-uniformed character. “You can suffer in your box for all I care. Veronica suddenly looked up to watch as an elderly woman nearby reached out to sympathetically pat her hand. Veronica noticed she was grasping her shopping cart with white knuckles.

“My dear is your blood sugar low?” her gentle voice inquired. “ Maybe you should go over to aisle four. The bakery is giving out get a free sample cookie.”

 Veronica jerked her head up and registered what the woman was saying. Her sense of decorum prevailed and Veronica conjured up a sweet smile and nodded slowly edging her shopping cart down the aisle. When she had traveled a few feet, she whipped the cart around about face and hurried off in the opposite direction.

Simultaneously as Veronica rounded the corner, an overhead announcement blared, “Clean-up on aisles 5 and 6.”  Veronica had no choice but to stop. In front of her was a  multi-collision. A dolly loaded with flour had rammed a bakery rack of doughnuts, subsequentially overturning. Veronica watched fascinated to see a pink-sprinkled doughnut rolling away and heading toward the meat counter. The crash somehow forced a very large man backward into an open cooler full of egg cartons. Flour was drifting as dust in the air. The momentary silence that tends to fill voids of embarrassment and calamity was only brief. Veronica normally would have laughed and should have laughed but in her present mood, she closed her eyes, her anger finally unleashed.

With disgust in her tone and nonchalance in her stance, Veronica waved her arms and glared  at the crowd of on-looker as she bellowed,  “No more, I’m done!” Then turning on her heels, she strolled away. Reaching for her shopping list, she stuffed it in her handbag.

Veronica then slyly picked up her lipstick-stained Starbucks coffee cup. Looking around to see if anyone was watching,  she nudged the cart down the aisle, coming to a stop in front of a display of canning jars, pickling lime, and wax. Would anyone notice if I left my cart here?

Then noticing the two-pound brick of cheddar cheese, Veronica felt a prick of guilt. You need to be refrigerated. She picked it up and grasping it to her chest, she carried it back to the cooler case and placed it carefully to sit among the other thousand chunks of cheese.

Now free of her cart and free of the cheese, Veronica with a cold cup of coffee in her hand and her purse slung over her should eye the exit and causally walked out.

Sliding into her car seat, she ducked down low. After a few minutes, her heart slowed its rapid beating. Looking through her rear-view mirror, she half waiting for some bagger-boy to come over and tap her glass. She imagined he would shake his finger at her in irritation. Veronica almost faltered again when she envisioned a lackey discovering her abandoned loaded cart. It would of course be late in the evening. Maybe they would try to profile me, she thought quickly racking her brain for any telltale sign she left behind. I hope Captain Crunch will keep his mouth shut, she thought.

Then, the moment of her hasty departure passed. Veronica’s spirits lifted as she welcomed a new feeling of empowerment. She had reclaimed her morning! In addition, she had saved money, a lot of money and she now was not obliged to race home before the ice cream melted. Veronica was immensely satisfied to have no obligations at all. It really was a lovely Saturday morning?