Notes from the River

As I entered Trader Joe’s today to pick up my sad grocery list of milk, one apple, and a bag of kettle corn, I came inches from being steamrolled by an over-full shopping cart. It was being pushed, with force, by a bleached-blonde woman who is surely Keller Williams’ best selling agent of 2025.

Yes, it’s Thanksgiving week. For me, that means I’ll be avoiding Trader Joe’s at all costs – it’s a literal war zone. If you’re not being jostled around the onions and potatoes by over zealous produce hunters, you’re fighting over a turkey with some middle aged man – “it’s 14.07 lbs, that’s exactly the size my wife asked for!”.

The average TJ’s shopper has the spatial awareness of an African elephant trudging through the endless grasslands of South Africa’s Kruger National Park. This, combined with TJ’s slender aisles, and a national holiday dedicated to making you cook with a bunch of ingredients you only use once a year, makes for one of the worst experiences one can have.

It’s hell in there.

Next year, when the allure of TJ’s slightly cheaper prices feels too hard to resist, remember this post. Then, turn around, and go to a supermarket that’s actually designed for more than half a human being to go down at one time. It’s just not worth it.

(I will still be going to TJ’s tomorrow)