so, okay, it’s six o’clock and the after-work rush is in trader joe’s buying food. it’s busy, it’s crowded, and everyone is SUPER SERIOUS because food shopping is serious business. And everyone has to do it slowly and carefully in case they make a mistake.

Trader Joe’s at six pm is not a place where you go in and get what you need quickly. Not even if you’re small, twenty something female who is SO HUNGRY she is about to eat her own hand, and she’s walking a little hunched over because the hunger pains are kind of intense now.

Not even if this same person spent the last hour trying to figure out what she even wants to eat, and where she can find it, then finally gave up and figured out that the best thing, the most delicious thing in the world to eat would be eggs in a basket. Not even then.

So now that I’ve set up this heartbreaking scene of hunger and extraordinarily slow moving people, you must be wondering how this will resolve itself into a non-sarcastic “I really, seriously do love trader joe’s” entry.

I shall tell you. After getting her – rather, my lovely eggs and orange juice, I try to find the shortest, quickest moving line, or a decent combination of the two (if you have ever been inside of a grocery store during busy hours, you understand what this is like. it is no different at trader joe’s, except for the fact that they play fleetwood mac and find small, almost subconscious ways of making me happy).

as i am waiting in line, an employee of trader joe’s moseys along and asks, “ginger snap?” He carries a tub of small cookies and a pair of tongs. i eye him and his cookies, and he makes eyecontact. i nod, the intense nod of a bidder at a fast-paced and incredibly important auction. He smiles, triumphant. “I knew you were looking at my cookies.”

Amazed, I suck ravenously at the delicious, tiny cookie. I crunch it between my teeth as I move up to the register. It is my time, my eggs in a basket are almost within reach. And oh my god do i need some ginger snaps, too.

I gasp out “ginger snaps?” in a pathetic squeak. The cashier inclines his head, and I repeat “where are the ginger snaps?” he responds that they’re in the frozen food aisle. “is it okay if i go grab them quickly?”

It is six pm at trader joe’s. it’s like night of the living dead, only people eat food, not brains. It’s the same shuffle, though.

“If you go quickly.” He says. I nod, and dart down the frozen food aisle. I am not running, but I am not shuffling, either. I am purposeful. I dart between shoppers and baskets. The dead-eyed shoppers drool but otherwise pay little mind. I am at a loss. I see every kind of cookie except the delicious ginger snaps. I am at the end of the aisle and there are no cookies.

Suddenly, from behind me, a shout “Ginger snaps!”

A spritely employee is jumping up and down – he has just dashed to my aid. He grabs the tub, tosses it to me, and I launch myself over the back of an older gentleman stooped to pick up a frozen pizza that he has just dropped, and breathlessly hand over the tub to the cashier with copious apologies to everyone for being that jerk.

The man standing behind me has taken the opportunity to fetch some other forgotten item. He doesn’t even look at me, his eyes cold and unseeing. He may not have even noticed the hiccup.

I cannot be sure if the practice of handing out ginger snaps to lines of hungry customers is cruel or awesome. Maybe it’s some amazing combination of delicious sadism. I cannot be sure. What I do know is that my eggs in a basket were marvellous.

And i haven’t even opened the bin of ginger snaps.

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