This one is more for the expats living in Poland. I am sure it will sound familiar.
So as I enter my local Albert's (yeah I know it is Carre Four now but I resist change) I nodded to the friendly (ok not really) security guy standing by the door in full tactical gear including vest, handcuffs and baton (I guess his submachinegun was in for service). Though I knew it was pointless I looked in the rack for the shopping baskets by the door but as usual it is empty and all 700 baskets in the store are piled up under the kasas where you cant get to them without pushing through a queue of 30 people. So I decide to go light and see what I can manage to balance in my hands.
As I make my way through the aisles admiring all the rotten fruit and wilted vegetables I start getting a craving for my favorite canned peaches. Every week for the last month and a half they have been out of stock but continued to mock me with the little price tag and empty space on the shelf. As I rounded the corner a warm light shone from above like in one of those religious movies and underneath it sat ONE can of peaches...ONE. After a month and a half it seems they were not able to manage a full restock of peaches. Now if I wanted papaya there were about 50 cans available as usual. I guess Poles love peaches and hate papaya. So counting my blessings I snag the peaches and move on.
I seem to always have a problem getting bread. I never shop early enough to get anything decent. By the time I get there all that is left are a couple hard as rock baguettes, some stale razowy bricks suitable for masonry, and several dozen of those little round rolls with the nuts all over them that nobody ever buys....oh well I can live without bread...as usual.
I pick up a few more small things but between the guy driving the cleaning zamboni around trying to take my feet out and the old ladies packing off all the produce to the back about two hours before closing it seems most of my plans had been foiled for the evening. (see where I come from they actually wait until closing time to clean and put everything away...but not here...oh no not in Poland)
After I choose which queue I would prefer to wait 30 minutes in I start watching the fellow shoppers to pass the time. There is the old homeless guy buying his two beers with a handful of change, the classic mom buying 6 liters of milk..4 heads of cabbage..a 5kg bag of sausages..a packet of Vegeta and a crossword book, the teen girls all talking on their phones while somehow simultaneously talking to each other as well...they are buying gum and cigarettes, the super hot dressed to kill 35yo woman with a family pack of toilet paper and a box of laxatives, and the foreign businessmen in suits all carrying a couple liters of hard liquor each presumably for a wild night back at the hotel.
When I am next in line and thinking it is almost over the lady in front of me decides she is not happy that the cabbage is 3gr more per kg than she thought. This starts a 5 minute argument between her and the 16yo kasa girl who looks irritated that she is even alive to suffer this indignity...oh the trials of life. So after finally agreeing on a price, rather than giving the girl the amount due that is CLEARLY showing on the register she thrusts out her hand full of various coins and expects the kasa girl to pick through it and choose the proper amount...and she does. I guess it is expecting too much of citizens to count change in this harsh world.
FINALLY it is my turn. I get my second wind and as I am trying to keep up with bagging my things so that I don't get behind and have to try and pay over the shoulder of the guy behind me whilst his things come barreling down into a pile on top of mine. The next interaction is I am sure familiar:
Kasa Girl: "46.61zl"
Me: Hand her a 50zl bill
Kasa Girl: Do you have 6.61?
Me: Shake head no
Kasa Girl: Scowls at me for a few seconds and then says "Maybe 1.61?"
Me: Shake head no
Kasa Girl : Scowls just a bit longer this time then says ".61?"
Me: Shake head no yet again.
Kasa Girl: Scowls even longer...sighs theatrically and then kind of lobs my change at me half of which lands in the little tray and half of which goes onto the floor.
So after recovering my money and finally getting on my way I once again nod to the SWAT team member stationed by the door and head home. This time I make it home without one of the super thin (no longer gratis) bags tearing and dumping my things on the ground. Now I am sitting here with my feet up and enjoying the fruits of my labor in a Jednodniowy Sok Marchewkowy and a sandwich.
Thus ends a tale of supermarket adventure. I hope you enjoyed it...and I hope you didn't have any post traumatic stress flashbacks as a result.
Cheers.
So as I enter my local Albert's (yeah I know it is Carre Four now but I resist change) I nodded to the friendly (ok not really) security guy standing by the door in full tactical gear including vest, handcuffs and baton (I guess his submachinegun was in for service). Though I knew it was pointless I looked in the rack for the shopping baskets by the door but as usual it is empty and all 700 baskets in the store are piled up under the kasas where you cant get to them without pushing through a queue of 30 people. So I decide to go light and see what I can manage to balance in my hands.
As I make my way through the aisles admiring all the rotten fruit and wilted vegetables I start getting a craving for my favorite canned peaches. Every week for the last month and a half they have been out of stock but continued to mock me with the little price tag and empty space on the shelf. As I rounded the corner a warm light shone from above like in one of those religious movies and underneath it sat ONE can of peaches...ONE. After a month and a half it seems they were not able to manage a full restock of peaches. Now if I wanted papaya there were about 50 cans available as usual. I guess Poles love peaches and hate papaya. So counting my blessings I snag the peaches and move on.
I seem to always have a problem getting bread. I never shop early enough to get anything decent. By the time I get there all that is left are a couple hard as rock baguettes, some stale razowy bricks suitable for masonry, and several dozen of those little round rolls with the nuts all over them that nobody ever buys....oh well I can live without bread...as usual.
I pick up a few more small things but between the guy driving the cleaning zamboni around trying to take my feet out and the old ladies packing off all the produce to the back about two hours before closing it seems most of my plans had been foiled for the evening. (see where I come from they actually wait until closing time to clean and put everything away...but not here...oh no not in Poland)
After I choose which queue I would prefer to wait 30 minutes in I start watching the fellow shoppers to pass the time. There is the old homeless guy buying his two beers with a handful of change, the classic mom buying 6 liters of milk..4 heads of cabbage..a 5kg bag of sausages..a packet of Vegeta and a crossword book, the teen girls all talking on their phones while somehow simultaneously talking to each other as well...they are buying gum and cigarettes, the super hot dressed to kill 35yo woman with a family pack of toilet paper and a box of laxatives, and the foreign businessmen in suits all carrying a couple liters of hard liquor each presumably for a wild night back at the hotel.
When I am next in line and thinking it is almost over the lady in front of me decides she is not happy that the cabbage is 3gr more per kg than she thought. This starts a 5 minute argument between her and the 16yo kasa girl who looks irritated that she is even alive to suffer this indignity...oh the trials of life. So after finally agreeing on a price, rather than giving the girl the amount due that is CLEARLY showing on the register she thrusts out her hand full of various coins and expects the kasa girl to pick through it and choose the proper amount...and she does. I guess it is expecting too much of citizens to count change in this harsh world.
FINALLY it is my turn. I get my second wind and as I am trying to keep up with bagging my things so that I don't get behind and have to try and pay over the shoulder of the guy behind me whilst his things come barreling down into a pile on top of mine. The next interaction is I am sure familiar:
Kasa Girl: "46.61zl"
Me: Hand her a 50zl bill
Kasa Girl: Do you have 6.61?
Me: Shake head no
Kasa Girl: Scowls at me for a few seconds and then says "Maybe 1.61?"
Me: Shake head no
Kasa Girl : Scowls just a bit longer this time then says ".61?"
Me: Shake head no yet again.
Kasa Girl: Scowls even longer...sighs theatrically and then kind of lobs my change at me half of which lands in the little tray and half of which goes onto the floor.
So after recovering my money and finally getting on my way I once again nod to the SWAT team member stationed by the door and head home. This time I make it home without one of the super thin (no longer gratis) bags tearing and dumping my things on the ground. Now I am sitting here with my feet up and enjoying the fruits of my labor in a Jednodniowy Sok Marchewkowy and a sandwich.
Thus ends a tale of supermarket adventure. I hope you enjoyed it...and I hope you didn't have any post traumatic stress flashbacks as a result.
Cheers.