After so many bus stops that you will be questioning whether or not you’re still in Madison, you crane your travel-weary neck up Monroe Street. There she blows, Monroe Street Trader Joe’s. Far away from everything, unless you live in the apartments directly attached to it, this particular flagship grocery store unites primly dressed graduate students, locally residing faculty, and the “I’ve got bats flying out of my wallet” broke-level undergrads alike. Rest assured that after you have made this adventure through its approximately three aisles, you will have crossed over into becoming a true Madisonian. One of the over-friendly cashiers will knight you with an already-wilting bouquet of flowers and you can allow yourself to luxuriate in the sense of community it bestows upon you.
But, hold on just now. Before you can even begin to think of overcoming one of the most essential, yet treacherous rites of passages, you must first understand what you are getting yourself into. So, roll up your sleeves, lace up your best running shoes, (once you’ve done this a few times, your accoutrement may also include throwing a tote bag with the company’s insignia onto your shoulder), and prepare yourself. Here are the five phases which you will have to circumvent in order to accomplish this rite of passage:
Phase 1: The Entrance
As you hone in on the entrance, you’ll observe that there is a ridiculously small parking garage on the left frontside of the entrance. Even though it can only hold three or so vehicles at most, don’t underestimate its ferocity as an obstacle. For the few vehicles it does hold are mighty. You wonder how they got those coveted spots? It’s because they don’t brake for anybody and will swerve right in front of you if it means they can walk a few less steps into their most beloved grocery store. You’ll then notice that you are forced to confront this parking structure unless you enter in from a side entrance only those who have visited know about. It feels like an initiation ritual: Those who have not been before will be forced to walk this plank between the parking garage to store. It is a weed out process: How badly do you want to enter TJ’s and get yourself a big ole bin of Chocolate Cats Cookies for People? Are you willing to put your life on the line by narrowly avoiding getting pummeled by a Chili Crisp-overzealous driver? If so, then you better make a run for it because Tammy in her souped up Prius is making a revving start for you.
Phase 2: Grabbing a Cart and Letting the Games Begin
If you’ve made it this far- and trust me, most do not have the courage- then you really must need those groceries. All righty, it’s your funeral. Time to grab a weirdly tiered cart that you can only assume is there to assert from the jump that they are “not like other grocery stores.” As you reach for the next available cart, a gym bro with AirPods bumping slams his cart into where you are reaching and almost swipes your fingers clean off. You begin to realize that you will need to treat this grocery run as though you are on a talk show from the 2010s where they let people grab as many items as they could in under five minutes. Letting out an exhale of resignation, knowing that you have sacrificed far too much to turn back now, you try to harness the maximum amount of fortitude your mind can muster. No time for that, however, as the automatic doors now open, allowing a torrent of people spraying from every which way, as you push your cart forward, not even able to see who you steer into in the process.
Phase 3: Snatch Up Those Items- Coming Face to Face with the Beast
You’re now in it- there is no time to think, let alone even breathe. You must act and act now. People from the check out line are already coming towards you. Ducking out of the way, you pratfall into the produce section. Some lady, instead of fistfuls of legumes, has fistfuls of her hair. Teeth gritted and vein popping out of her forehead, she is shrieking because there are no more sweet potatoes. She begins to rock back and forth, whispering to herself, “They never have them. They never do.” Her right eye twitches rapidly and her mouth begins to foam. She then whips her head, directing her gaze of fury at you. “YOU! YOU- Where are the sweet potatoes?! YOU took them, I know you did!” As she readies to pounce on you from over the rack of produce, you zoom on out of there.
Very quickly you learn to never come in here every again without a list. As you stand by the sweets, you lick your lips at all of the options of Joe-Joe’s flavors. Then, as though they are about to envelop you in a hug from behind, a hand reaches right in front of you and grabs as many boxes as it can. They pointedly do not say, “Excuse me.” You begin to feel as you once did in days of childhood yore: When you were drinking from the water fountain, and the other kids behind you would stomp their foot like Thumper and shout, “One, two, three, that’s enough for me!”
Phase 4: Beginning to Hit Your Stride
Now acting out of sheer indignance with how everyone around you has been treating you, you achieve a new level of aptitude with this whole ordeal. Even the employees will make sure you have not left without having shot you a disapproving glance after you tried to grab something within the ten feet radius of the humongous cardboard box they are restocking from. When yet another person is trying to engage in bumper-carts with you, you adeptly move out of the way, as though a ninja swirling and twirling away from the knives being thrown at them. You have put on a full display of demonstrating extraordinary motor skills and have asserted to the rest of the customers that you weren’t to be messed with. So, when the employee who is checking you out at the register seems as though they are flirting with you, you begin to believe it- in fact, you feel as though you’ve earned it. You feel like a male peacock, one leg forward, shimmying his beautiful fan of feathers. Blushing, you eye how many glass jars and heavy objects are being loaded into a singular paper bag and begin to panic at how you’ll ever make it home.
Phase 5: Getting Home and Settling in with the Reality of It
Well, you’ve made it back home, and not unscathed. Being in there felt like a different time, a different life. You’re a changed person. Removing all of what you managed to snag for yourself, you take stock of what you got. Let’s see… a sheet cake… Okay, sure, that’ll last you a long time and will be a once in a while dessert. Correction: You will eat it all promptly after you put away everything else, not a crumb left behind. What’s next? Aha, some salmon! Expensive, too, but it’s okay. All in a day’s work of healthy eating. Correction: After your fourth consecutive night of DoorDash, you will wonder what that nose hair-burning stench is coming from in and around your kitchen. It’s the salmon. Healthy eating was close, but no cigar. Try again next time. Beyond that salmon, you realize you really only got yourself some seasonings, some snacks, and some more… snacks? With your head hung down, you’ll scuttle your way to State Street Target to fill in the gaps. You’ll get better at it, it’s only your first time. Every successive time you’ll be able to snatch up at least one more item by the end of it. On your 20th go, you’ll have more snacks than you know what to do with. Who knows, maybe you’ll eventually graduate into becoming the customer doing the body-slamming, as opposed to being the body-slamee. Possibilities abound beyond those automatic doors. All that matters is if you’re willing to take that chance.
