Best Is Best

I didn't think the recent presidential election would affect me so closely or so soon, but my local independent grocery store has been newly renamed Trump In-the-Hole Foods.

New owner, politician Donald J. Trump, had this to say, "I have food. And it's the best food."

My first stop was the produce department, and I couldn't help but notice that one section had a cement wall around it. I flagged down a man in a black vest with a large picture of Trump on the back.

The orange thing on the photo's head made a striking contrast against the background, which upon closer inspection was actually midnight blue. In fact, I would find nothing black, including fried chicken or watermelon, in the entire store.

"Excuse me, sir," I said. "Why is that area walled off?"

"That's where we keep the produce from Mexico," he said, and turned back to stocking the biggest cucumbers I'd ever seen, each stamped with Trump's likeness.

It was then I noticed there were no apples, oranges, strawberries, or many other things you would typically expect to find in a produce department. Again I interrupted the preoccupied tradesman. "Sorry to bother you, but I was looking for bananas," I said.

"Oh," he replied, "Mr. Trump doesn't like fruits in his stores."

I decided to move on, and when I glanced up, I saw a glowing LED sign that said - PEANUT GALLERY. I assumed that's where they kept the talking heads.

"One last time," I said to the now openly hostile worker. I pointed at the sign. "What do they have over there?"

He stared at me, but then slowly said, "Because of all the lawsuits over allergies, that's where we keep everything made from peanuts."

This was good because peanut butter was on my shopping list. I started to roll away, but saw a clearly disabled employee in a Trump In-the-Hole Foods vest heading towards me. The awkward gait, waving hands, lolling head, and coke-bottle glasses were unmistakable.

I waited patiently, as my first thought was that he was going to offer me assistance because I was in a wheelchair. He approached me, but before I could politely decline the offer, he straightened up into a tall and well-built young man. He removed and folded the glasses, and carefully placed them in his pocket.

"I believe we've taken up enough of this gentleman's time," he said. "The owner is a successful businessman. He didn't become successful by allowing his minimum wage earners to be distracted with such low priorities as customer service."

"Are you mocking me!" I said.

I thought about leaving and going to another store. For a brief moment I beheld the visage of Sam Walton astride a white charger ten feet tall. What was the matter with me?

I figured as long as I was there, I'd pick up the few things I needed, and go home to regroup. I made my way to the PEANUT GALLERY, but was stopped again, this time by a striped crossing gate. A guard stuck his head out of a booth, the now familiar Trump In-the-Hole Foods logo emblazoned on the midnight blue helmet. "State your business!" he barked.

"What's this?" I asked.

"This," he said, "is Checkpoint Skippy. Now state your business!" To emphasize his point he pointed an assault weapon at me (the now ubiquitous Trump head on the matte midnight blue rifle stock).

"JIF, family size, neat," I replied, assuming an experienced nutjobber like the guard would know I meant creamy, not chunky.

He raised the gate with a sharp salute, and I entered the PEANUT GALLERY, totally not expecting the full body cavity search upon my exit.

As I made my way up front to the registers, I saw that the bulk of the store was divided between left aisles and right aisles. Very few people crossed over.

One of the things I do while waiting in the check-out line is check out the impulse items. I refuse to look at the tabloid headlines, but the tchotchkes and candy are all at eye level for me.

The tins of caviar with the picture of Putin naked from the waist up did not appeal to me, but I considered one of the fine selection of airplane-bottle size vodkas, at least to get me through the wait in line.

A couple of candies stood out, and I passed on the ChernoBars (guaranteed to glow in the dark), in favor of a package of Drill Bits - black licorice sticks that left an oily film on your fingers.

I was so disappointed in my overall shopping experience at Trump In-the-Hole Foods, that I told the cashier I wished to speak to the store manager.

"Oh," the cashier responded, "her name is Helen Waite. If you want to speak to the person in charge, go to Helen Waite."