Whole Foods is a Madhouse…and why it’s like the airport
It doesn’t matter what time of day you go to a Whole Foods in Manhattan, you can be sure to be bumped and prodded with more dwarf-sized carts and organic shopping bags than ever imagined.
Why Whole Foods is like the Airport
I found myself inside Whole Foods Chelsea today. Much like the way airports make me feel lightheaded and woozy, I tend to loose a sense of certainty and become fickle in my decision making. “Lets see, I don’t really need Parmesan, and if I limit my purchase to 5 items than I don’t have to stand in the mother of all lines,” I tell myself. So I set the cheese down. Putting back the items you really want is like removing items from your checked baggage in order to make it all fit — I have just entered Stage 1: Putting back items you want.
And then Stage 2 sets in. Mirroring the sensation of exiting a plane that was just re-routed to Atlanta due to a rainstorm in Seattle, Stage 2ers find themselves off balance and don’t even remember what was on their shopping list. With every toe-tap in a different direction stage 2ers get bumped with a fast-moving shopper who has blueprints to every aisle. Your stride becomes clumsy and you manage to roll over the back of your ankle with your cart (or suitcase).
So then there comes the point where you head towards the line (keep in mind you already know how long and daunting it is) and consider leaving all of your groceries there and walking out.
But before you know it Stage 3 happens. Whole Foods employees begin to part the seas and systematically point line-waiters left and right. TV monitors above contradict the numbers they shout. The instructions become inaudible, in the same way they do at the airport terminal….you know when seven gates all make announcements at the same time. And your gate has just been moved but you can’t hear the message because “Mrs. Janowitz your family is looking for you please come to Gate 14A,” just out-played everything else.
By some grace of your God you manipulate yourself through the drones of Whole Foods and are outside in fresh muggy and polluted air. Ahh feels good.
You get home, unpack and realize that you didn’t even effing pick up the one thing you went to the grocery store to get — eggs. Screw it. You wouldn’t dare go back there.
