Stop, Shop, and Smile

Hallelujah and zippadeedooda! Hope is alive for me and my stinky little neighorhood Stop & Shop.

You might recall an earlier post in which I discuss the real reason I shop at the grossest little store in this hemisphere - the one with expired dairy products, hit-or-miss produce, and a frightening, apparently contagious staff infection. (Ouch. I will burn for that.)

Well, big changes are a'coming, folks, and it sounds oh-so-lovely. One day in the not so distant future, I and the other stellar citizens in my town (Captain Underpants for sure) will be blessed with a brand new store - a big sparkly one, with a roomy parking lot accented with trees and flowers. The store won't be unmanageably, warehousey big; it'll fit me and my town just right, like my minivan fits me and my family - large but not so large that moving about it qualifies as exercise.

Grocery shopping will once again be a delightful, sensory experience ("Oh look! Freshly baked bread! And peaches! Big, round juicy orbs with soft, velvety fuzz..."). I can't wait.

Maybe the best part, aside from the possibility of fresh sushi so close to home, will be witnessing the transformation (the healing, perhaps) of the staff in their new environment. I'm willing to bet that they'll feel as if they've had a makeover too (hopefully a major overhaul, in some cases). They'll rise along with the new walls and foundation, and this will translate into pride: pride in their appearance (read: no more stained, wrinkly polo shirts); pride in their work (read: stocked shelves, fresh food); and pride in themselves (hear, with authority: "Hello. Welcome to Stop & Shop!").

Welcome, indeed.