the trader joe’s incident

Trader Joe’s is my happy place. And even though it’s small and crowded and it takes a lot of maneuvering and circling to get what you need, I’m hook, line and sinker for their brand and philosophy and I do the majority of my food shopping there. I’m a regular. I know where everything is and more than once I’ve helped shoppers locate an item. I’ve even helped little old ladies get things off the top shelf. When we moved, I picked our new neighborhood based on its close proximity to Trader Joe’s. It’s my place. I get Trader Joe’s, and they get me.

So hopefully you’ll understand how what recently happened to me in TJ’s hurts my heart.

I also feel like I need to preface this story by explaining that I have an extreme respect for manners and being conscious of those around me. I am painfully polite, unassuming and aware of my environment. It’s just how I roll.

So when I approached the dairy case the other day, I parked my cart to avoid traffic and did a visual inventory of what I needed to stock up on. Then when the traffic cleared, I made my move grabbing yogurt for the boys’ lunches and cream cheese for their bagels. But standing in front of the butter was a woman gazing at the unsalted vs. salted.

An aside – one of the things I love about Trader Joe’s is the lack of choices. One brand. One type of each thing.

She wasn’t moving. She was just standing there. To know Trader Joe’s is to know that getting your groceries is a fine dance of up, down and around. So I approached from the left, kindly said Excuse me, smiling and trying to look her in the eye like my mother taught me and then I reached for the butter.

She turned toward me and gave me the nastiest Excuuuuuuuse ME!

You would have thought that I hip checked her there was so much venom in her voice. I’m thinking to myself, Is this really happening right now? I actually did a double take to make sure I was the person she was addressing.

And even though I’m not one for confrontation, for once in my life I decided to defend myself.

I said, I’m sorry, but I did say excuse me.

She just huffed and said, I don’t understand why everyone around here is in such a hurry.

And you would think that would be the end of it. But no, it turned out we were on the same shopping path so for the next five aisles I was over solicitous of her need for space trying to prove to her that I was indeed not rude, not rude at all, taking me three times longer than usual to do my shopping so that she wouldn’t be offended.

The second time she huffed at me I said with all the kindness I could muster, I know. It’s a very small store and very crowded.

And that was it. She went along with her day and I with mine. But something about this incident really stuck with me. I couldn’t let it go. I kept replaying it in my head over and over again. How could I be so stuck on something so small?

Because.

Because I felt shamed like I had been called out doing something horribly wrong.

Because I felt judged. Who the hell is she? She doesn’t know me? She can’t make assumptions about who I am in this world based on how I shop for butter!

Because I felt guilty. Maybe I was rushing her and invading her space.

Because I felt disappointed. I would never talk to anyone in that tone. Where is the kindness in the world?

Because I felt bummed out. The unwritten code of Trader Joe’s had been broken. My happy place had been tarnished.

This whole Trader Joe’s incident reminded me that my need to please and deep concern for how other people view me is still alive and kicking. While I have to work on not taking everything so personally, I also know that how we treat others, even neurotic butter shoppers, matters.

I don’t think that lady had any idea who she was messing with.

You can mess with me. But don’t mess with my Trader Joe’s, or I’ll have to, albeit very politely, mess with you.