The grocery store brings out my serious side.

Whenever we go grocery shopping, 

Sean says I put my b-face on.

"B" as in the b word. Yup.

Am I a rude person? No.

In every day life, I'm really kind, polite and understanding.

But at the grocery store... I just can't do it.

Is it too much to ask that the bag person not place my hot rotisserie chicken 

on top of my shredded cheese?

Or to not squeeze and smell my fresh baguette?

Or to not ask to touch my Marc Jacobs bag.

I think not.

For some reason, it's one of places in the world

where I want things how I want them and when I want them

and I get an attitude when things get in the way.

Typically, we go grocery shopping on Sundays.

Not the best day to go, I'll give you that.

But it's when we have the time to go together.

Because, really -- I can't go alone.

There are a couple of reasons why I have to put my b-face on...

Parking:

Should we park close to the cart return so it's easier afterwards?

Or is the risk of someone hitting the car with a shopping cart too prominent?

Why are the cart returns not evenly spaced out to make this decision easier?

The shopping cart:

via.

Right?

Luckily, Sean controls the cart.

And he constantly deals with steering away from the elderly,

small children, and the store displays. 

Why people think it's okay to hold on to their cart 

while they reach across to the opposite side of the aisle to grab something?

I'll never understand.

The maze:

I have a method inside the grocery store. Inside is confusing and messy.

I need a serious face to maneuver between the parking, the carts, the aisles, and the people on their iPads.

I feel like people need to know that the grocery store is not a social hour.

I'm dying to get in & out.

I've found I like to travel all the way to left of the store (skipping the cold aisles),

work backwards, swing around to the fruits, veggies, meats and dairy.

OCD?... possibly.

But the idea that people start with dairy, pick through the dry aisles, 

grab their meat, travel through more dry aisles, 

arrive at the frozen food and dairy aisles some 45 minutes later.

While things that are supposed to be cold... are getting warm?

Well, that's just strange.

When Sean tries to change the plans?

I get the face.

The "b-face" as he calls it.

The shopping bags:

Is it too much to ask that all the boxed products go together?

All the cold things together?

All the meats together?

Bread and chips not be placed underneath liters of soda?

I put everything [with the bags] on the conveyor belt in the order I'd like things to be packaged.

Isn't that typical?

Why is it so hard?

So, yes. 

I put on my serious face.

Or my b-face as Sean calls it.

And I sound rude when I say "excuse me" to the person standing in the middle of the aisle,

oblivious to the fact that they're in public.

I seem upset when they crush my eggs, and forget to give me the sale price.

I have a mental breakdown when I come out to my car and there are carts leaning against it.

Call me crazy.