I was making a determined dash into our only grocery store in town (that would be H.E.B. if you are a San Antonian). I was armed with my grocery list, a bag of snacks for the little one, and had one eye on my watch. The last time I went shopping I cut my time much too close and was going to be late picking up my kids from school (sidenote: I'm always late, but this was going on "go to the office and call your neglectful mother" late). I had an overflowing basket of groceries and no time to pay for them. I begged the manager to pretty please put my cart in the back cooler room with all the produce while I made a mad dash to pick up my kids. I am sorry to report that was not the first time that happened. However, this day, I was determined NOT to make a repeat performance. I was getting a reputation.
I put my blinders on and started throwing things into my cart at record speed. As I was darting past the frozen food aisles, I saw an unusual gathering of people. The store had put up some temporary shelves and filled them with clearance food and non-food items.
This meant trouble.
I completely lose all control when there is a sale. I typically end up with a few cat toys, a mustache trimmer, and three pairs of fake eyelashes with rhinestones on the ends. In other words, nothing that I actually need. There must be some chromosome in my female DNA that can detect then fall victim to a good deal. I really do not think I’m responsible for this sometimes irresponsible behavior (at least I'm trying to sell the Doc on this theory).
The grocery cart automatically found its own way to the clearance shelves; I was just hanging on for the ride at this point. There was a congregation of people in one section of the shelves, so I worked my way over to see what they were looking at.
Boxes and boxes of protein bars.
All on sale.
The other shoppers were casually picking up the boxes and reading the labels.
“How much protein is good?” I heard one elderly woman ask her husband who was in one of those motorized scooters with the basket on the front.
“I wonder if these taste like cardboard?” I heard someone else comment.
Well, well, well -- I had my eyes fixed on my prize, now I just had to deal with all these people whose hands were reaching for MY protein bars.
How did I handle it? You’d think I’d take the higher road and enlighten these shoppers who were considering trying a protein bar for the first time. You’d think I’d nobly let them know that they shouldn’t be over 200 calories. Or they should look for bars with over 10 grams of protein. You’d think I’d let them know that this was a smokin’ hot deal since these protein bars NEVER go on sale.
Nope. I did none of that.
I said one quiet, “Excuse me”. I maneuvered my grocery cart through the dozen people looking at the shelf of protein bars, and with one sweep of my arm dropped them them all into my cart. Just like that. I felt like I had just gotten away with a high stake robbery. Without looking at anybody in the eye, I got the heck out of there.
I swiped something like 20 boxes of protein bars and didn’t feel one ounce of guilt about it. (Yes, of course, I did pay for them -- happily :)
SCORE.
Heartless?
Blame it on my DNA.
I do.
For more on protein bars and how to chose them, click here.
This post was not sponsored by any brand or protein bar maker.
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