GUILT

It sneaks up on me, like paying the water bill and remembering birthdays. When it hits me, all I can do is throw myself out there at the mercy of my peers. I think I caught if from my friends, so many Catholics and former Catholics; I suffer from spontaneous, flashback, Catholic, guilt syndrome. I am not Catholic but I get to suffer as if I were. “Hail Mary full of grace. . . Angle of grace, my Guardian dear. . .” If confession is good for the soul, then I confess.

I go into Whole Foods stores with no intention of buying anything. I get a cart, one of the little ones and cruise around the outside isles, through the produce, the bulk foods and fresh sea food sections. Then I gawk at the exotic sausages and stuffed pork chops, check out the cheese offerings and the bakery. All along the way, if I’m lucky, they have put out samples for the stereotype customer who doesn’t need to know how much things cost. Whatever the bill rings up, they just swipe their debit card; it’s just a number. But then I’m not a Whole Foods stereotype, I need to know the number. But I graze there. On a good day I can make a meal of it, especially when smoked salmon dip and pungent cheese selections from Italy and Denmark are on the fare. Chips and guacamole go fast so you must time yourself, be there when they set out a fresh container, take two and come back for a 3rd sample before it runs out. 

Tuesday fare is nothing like they have on weekends but it was worth the walk. Before I could get through the produce section (looking for guacamole) the guilt thing closed in on me like thunder and rain on a parade. I went straight into my penance mode, in the bulk food section; measured out a pound of dry, calico beans and tagged them with the code #number. A couple of small bananas later my cart was sufficiently stocked, allowing me to pass as a customer. I am a ‘Grazer’ but I can’t help it. I can buy something after all and it eases my guilt. In the bakery they usually have little morsels of common varieties, bread and muffins but today they had all the broken bits from the pastry bin, yogurt dipped pretzels, cookies, fudge brownies. I got a sugar buzz going and took a second lap around the track. 

I keep telling myself that I have to quit doing this. I’m sure the guys in the security section, screening their video monitors, see me come in the door and call their associates over to watch me browse, make wagers on how many chips I’ll munch before I move on; and how long it will take me to come around again. But they keep putting samples out and they keep letting me graze. I spent almost $6 at Whole Foods today and I probably ate $10 worth. The 3rd time by the cheese plater was sinful but I recognized several others who were doing the same thing. Maybe they don’t have this guilt thing as it’s all part of the business model. I wish I could get my head around that. If I kept all the toothpicks from sampling at Whole Foods I could build a bonfire. I’ll be fine, walk out the door with some beans and bananas in my shopping bag. I get the nickel refund for bringing my own bag and my appetite is suppressed for at least a while. No smoked salmon today, or shrimp scampi but I don’t need much. I remember in the Kevin Costner movie, ‘Robin Hood’ the sheriff’s men chased a boy who had killed one of the king’s deer. Robin saved the kid, killed some soldiers and sent the rest off in retreat. Good movie but I don’t need Robin. The sheriff’s men leave me alone. They know I’ll be feeling guilty again and that’s good enough for Whole Foods.