What’s Going On At The Tummy Temple?

 

The daily trip was detoured by a bunch of guys in fluorescent vest laying down stinky tar so it was a round a bout to get to my usual parking spots. Once inside there was a scream and a pattern of running behind me scattering the wire carts and the old ladies. Seems Monday is the day to bring the mentally challenged people who wander through the aisles as some sort of lesson. Not a bother but a realization on how lucky to be sane and competent of my facilities. Almost forgot to tomatoes since that is not on my normal list but after the distraction wheeled around to see all the sorts of tomatoes. Wonder if I’ll eat them all before they turn brown? Stopping for the traffic I find the peanuts and continue down that aisle instead of turning back into the congestion. The ‘vendor’ girl who I spoke to the other day is there but busy. See recognizes me and smiles. It is top of the pops, boys and girls. Get some breakfast sandwiches being bored with the burritos and find some coffee ice cream to get the evening a bit of sweetness and ready for the scan-grab-and go line of laser instructed bar code robots. The new garb for the ‘associates?’ is a blue apron. Not the blue shirts with the reflective yellow strips, but just a blue apron. The folks pulling carts out of the backroom and blocking the aisles finding request for the drive thru are still in blue shirts, but the check out folks are wearing whatever they came in to work with and then donning a blue apron. Don’t know if the Tummy Temple washed their ‘uniforms’ before and found this a cheaper alternative or if the fancy expensive food dispensers with the smiley face clean cut young blond Aryan children are using aprons as a comfortable non-threatening recognizable uniforms. They should be carrying tongs. Today Hillary (best laugh) is the ‘help is on the way’ with her magic wane to tell the camera I’m old enough to buy the same beer I bought yesterday and the day before that and the day before that and the… Hillary is wearing the blue shirt AND the blue apron. I tell her she can turn the apron around and wear it as a cape. Then she can be Super Hillary. She laughs. IQ ratings are not necessary at the Tummy Temple. I make it home over freshly paved roadway and arrive in time for another preparation for the native Virginian’s buffet. There are a few squabbles but it is spring.