Festivus AofG

I hope it’s not too late to get in on the annual Festivus Airing of Grievances. Because I have one that’s been stewing since the eve of the holiday. Mark has a good list going, so I thought I’d chime in.

It had been a long day already, following a long night during which all three of us has trouble sleeping. The hubby wasn’t feeling well, I had too much caffeine during the day, and Parker was so excited about getting his presents in the morning that he stayed awake later than usual. By noon, we were all tired. Nonetheless, we had to go grocery shopping. But by the time we got to the grocery store, Parker had gotten so worked up that I opted to sit with him in the car and sent the hubby in to get groceries. I figured I’d go out later to pick up the specific items I wanted, once Parker had gone to bed.

Here begins my grievance.

It seemed simple enough. Once Parker went to bed, I’d go to the 24-hour grocery store near our house, and pick up the few specific items I wanted. That is, it seemed simple enough until I got to the grocery store and realized I’d forgotten what kind of world I actually lived in — one in which everything shuts down by 7pm on December 24th. I walked up to the door only to read a sign that the grocery store had closed at 7pm. I uttered a brief curse or two and got back into the car, figuring there had to be a grocery store open somewhere and I would find it. Thus began a journey into frustration, futility, and the city limits of Gaithersburg, MD.

I took off to the next nearest grocery store, half-hoping it would be open and half-knowing it would be closed. The same with the next one, and the next one, and the one after that. Shoppers’ Food Warehouse, closed. Giant, closed. Food Lion, closed. Macgruder’s, closed. Whole Foods, closed. Closed, closed, all closed. All with signs announcing their closing, and wishing happy holidays to the hungry who have come to their locked doors.

As I journeyed from parking lot to parking lot, and grew angrier with each stop, I morphed into a kind of wild-eyed, holiday’s-eve doomsday prophet, warning my fellow-travellers — my fellow heathens who were blasphemous enough to go searching for a crust of bread on the rest of the world’s holy-day — to remain in their vehicles, keep their engines running, and turn back. Turn back, turn back! Ye unholy generation of food-seekers! Turn back! Ye shall find no loaf of bread here! No cranberry sauce! No candied yams! No dinner rolls! Turn back, I say! Turn back!

Somewhere along the way, as I drove down the endless stretch of Rockville Pike, the purpose of my journey became more than a search for groceries. It was a simple act of defiance. I would make a purchase. It wasn’t until I reached the city limits of Gaithersburg, MD that I relented in my search. Finding no room at the big grocery stores with aisles and aisles of goods, I settled for a tiny store that simply had the word “groceries” in its sign, which turned out to mean the few shelves of potato ships, crackers, candy and condiments wedged in between the larger shelves of liquor, wine, and beer.

In flurry, I grabbed a handful of grocery items I didn’t need or want, paid for them , flung them into the car, and began my journey home. On my way, I still saw my fellow seekers, vainly circling empty parking lots, peering from their car windows at glass doors that would not open to them that night. I remembered my old mission of warning them to turn back, but resolved they would have to hear the message for themselves, or that another prophet would have to rise from among them to deliver the message that you may not buy a loaf of bread on Xmas eve night. But, you can buy a pint of liquor.

To the merchants I make a simple request. Have some mercy on us, the poor, procrastinating heathens who know no better than to go in search of items to meet our basic needs on this night when the world shuts down. I understand that many of your employees will want the evening off for one purpose or another. Only, please, hire a few fellow heathens like ourselves, who won’t mind working a cash register for a few extra hours that night — even if its only at one store whose hours that evening are well-advertised — so that even the unbelievers among you can find food if not faith, and sustenance if not salvation.