Anything More Real.

Shopping has always been somewhat of a contact sport for me.  Shopping, couponing, savings, all of it.  But lately, shopping at QFC on 15th has turned into a bad Choose-Your-Own-Adventure novel.  One could easily comment on the homeless person perpetually standing sentry at the entrance wanting to know if you want any "Real Change", and there is the passively hostile staff, peppered amongst the bizarrely medicated and sprite help. But no, this is none of that. Here I speak specifically about produce and I speak directly about oranges.

I almost expired in the middle of self-checkout when I rang up what was advertised as a Jumbo Navel  at 69 cents a pound and which actually cost something that might require lateral financing on my part and even then, perhaps a cosigner.

What is one to do?  One can't simply 'make a fuss' in the middle of self check-out.  I mean there is a line stretching almost all the way back to Tidy Cats, and I know what it feels like to be standing by the Tidy Cats, waiting interminably wanting to murder whatever useless ape in front of you who can't manage to operate a simple machine which 'actually-tells-you-everything-you-have-to-do-it-even-shows-you-pictures'.  No. I can't have a meltdown here. Not over this. Not after all the hateful things I have muttered under my breath at people who had probably found themselves in the exact same predicament.

It goes without saying that this is not the first time QFC has done this to me and as I gritted my teeth and placed the precious object into my own bag (yes I always bring my own bags) I vowed then and there to get to the bottom of this outrageousness.  If I accomplish anything before I leave this place it will be to teach those bastards at QFC on 15th how to properly label produce!