Personal Narrative: Grocery Stores
1:00 PM. The perfect time to begin my quest.
I snatched my phone off of the desk, stuffing into a mint green purse along with my wallet. With three entire hours before I had to sing in masterclasses again, I had more than enough time.
I would go to the grocery store by myself.
It doesn't seem like much because it isn't much. But my mom always says she couldn't wait until the day I get my driver's license so that I could grocery shop. After chauffeuring me around for seventeen years and doing all the errands, I can't blame her. The problem was, I still couldn't drive.
But I could see this Harris Teeter from my dorm room window, only a five minute walk away. Even though I would only be restocking my room at the Torggler Vocal Institute, …show more content…
it felt like a necessity.
With a final glance at my watch, I exited the dorm room and made my way to the doors of the residential building.
A wave of staggering heat greeted me as I emerged, blinded by a July afternoon sun. The walk to the grocery store, even though it clocked it at just five minutes, was a feat by itself. With sweltering temperatures, air as thick as mud, and a cars bolting past every crosswalk, it's a wonder I arrived in one piece.
Soon the automatic doors whizzed open, allowing me to step into the blissful embrace of air conditioning. My eyes took several moments to adjust to the fluorescent lights, still blinded by the summer sun. But I couldn't bask in my newfound comfort any longer - I had a job to do.
I wandered through the endless labrinyth of boxes and cans, my eyes unable to keep up with the barrage of products. Though I've been in plenty of Harris Teeters, this one felt foreign and strange. I worried less about finding everything on my shopping list and more about getting lost in the store.
The signs hanging above each aisle became my salvation as I glided about the store, the shopping basket somehow always getting in the way. I never looked at signs when I was at home with my mother, and I never carried around a basket. I never needed to, not when I went to a Harris Teeter with my family every week (if not more
often).
With the aid of the signs, I crossed off every item on my shopping list: snacking chocolate, pita chips, sour gummy worms, ginger tea, and disposable cups. Clearly, I had all the essentials.
I fretted over which register I should stand in line for as I walked the entire length of the store. Finally, I discovered a self-checkout at the end of the row. I kept my fingers crossed that there wouldn't be some error in the system - it might think I was stealing a two dollar bag of gummy worms or my debit card could be out of funds. But all went well until it was time for me to take the receipt. The machine had neglected to slice the receipt, so I ended up yanking out it out with a messy tear before burying it in my bag.
As I left, the July aftermoon met me with just as much heat as before, but I felt exhilirated. As simple as it sounded, I had just gone to the grocery store alone. I couldn't help but beam.
I had never felt so adult.
I snatched my phone off of the desk, stuffing into a mint green purse along with my wallet. With three entire hours before I had to sing in masterclasses again, I had more than enough time.
I would go to the grocery store by myself.
It doesn't seem like much because it isn't much. But my mom always says she couldn't wait until the day I get my driver's license so that I could grocery shop. After chauffeuring me around for seventeen years and doing all the errands, I can't blame her. The problem was, I still couldn't drive.
But I could see this Harris Teeter from my dorm room window, only a five minute walk away. Even though I would only be restocking my room at the Torggler Vocal Institute, …show more content…
it felt like a necessity.
With a final glance at my watch, I exited the dorm room and made my way to the doors of the residential building.
A wave of staggering heat greeted me as I emerged, blinded by a July afternoon sun. The walk to the grocery store, even though it clocked it at just five minutes, was a feat by itself. With sweltering temperatures, air as thick as mud, and a cars bolting past every crosswalk, it's a wonder I arrived in one piece.
Soon the automatic doors whizzed open, allowing me to step into the blissful embrace of air conditioning. My eyes took several moments to adjust to the fluorescent lights, still blinded by the summer sun. But I couldn't bask in my newfound comfort any longer - I had a job to do.
I wandered through the endless labrinyth of boxes and cans, my eyes unable to keep up with the barrage of products. Though I've been in plenty of Harris Teeters, this one felt foreign and strange. I worried less about finding everything on my shopping list and more about getting lost in the store.
The signs hanging above each aisle became my salvation as I glided about the store, the shopping basket somehow always getting in the way. I never looked at signs when I was at home with my mother, and I never carried around a basket. I never needed to, not when I went to a Harris Teeter with my family every week (if not more
often).
With the aid of the signs, I crossed off every item on my shopping list: snacking chocolate, pita chips, sour gummy worms, ginger tea, and disposable cups. Clearly, I had all the essentials.
I fretted over which register I should stand in line for as I walked the entire length of the store. Finally, I discovered a self-checkout at the end of the row. I kept my fingers crossed that there wouldn't be some error in the system - it might think I was stealing a two dollar bag of gummy worms or my debit card could be out of funds. But all went well until it was time for me to take the receipt. The machine had neglected to slice the receipt, so I ended up yanking out it out with a messy tear before burying it in my bag.
As I left, the July aftermoon met me with just as much heat as before, but I felt exhilirated. As simple as it sounded, I had just gone to the grocery store alone. I couldn't help but beam.
I had never felt so adult.