3 blocks from my office is the downtown Safeway. Did you know there was a Safeway in the Financial District? There is. And it's a bullshit Safeway. On the ground floor of an apartment building on Jackson Square, Bullshit Safeway is half the size of a regular Safeway, and half as lit. It's like a haunted house in there. None the less, that place is packed with suits every day between 11am and 2pm. And the sandwich line is always ridiculous.
My boss just came back from the sandwich line and announced, "You're right, Beth. That sandwich line is, indeed, bananas."
"Told you." I responded. "And everyone takes forever with all of their uptight sandwich needs."
"I know!" said my co-worker Carlos. "There's like 40 people in line and one sandwich maker. I was in there this one time and the woman behind me asked the sandwich maker to put on new plastic gloves because she didn't want 'meat gloves.' And the sandwich maker couldn't understand her. She had to say it like, three times. And everyone in line was like, 'Oh my God! She wants you to change your gloves!' Thank God I was in front of her."
This is very specific, but that is SO FiDi Bullshit Safeway. Everything about that is FBS. Because if you're so uptight about meat gloves, you can go to 673 other food places in the West Coast's finance capital. When you choose Bullshit Safeway, you're choosing gross gloves. And you're choosing a bananas line.
Why so surprised?
PS: Please send me all of your Safeway stories because I just-this-second developed a book idea called, "Shit That Went Down At My Safeway..."