paper or plastic? (m)

When I worked full time and traveled a lot for my job, T pitched in and did the grocery shopping most weekends.  I would write the list and he would execute.  We even automated our list and had columns for stock items and weekly specials and special occasion listings.  The system worked fairly well.

When Stop & Shop offered its online ordering and home delivery service called Peapod, we thought we had it made.  Imagine, a simple click of the button on the computer and then the items got delivered to your door.  Perfect.  In theory.

The reality was not so good.  Black tea came back as Black Currant Tea.  Whipped Cream was Cool Whip.  Bread crumbs were bread stuffing.  One of us always had to go to the store, return the wrong items and get the correct ones.

The next step in the evolution of our family grocery shopping saga was the combination of my mother and T doing the shopping.  This came about after we cancelled Peapod and my mother started coming to our home to help out on weekends. 

T would come home from his expedition with my mother, slam the bags on the counter and say "never again."  My mother would enter the house after him, wait for him to leave the room, and then shake her head and say "never again."  T's version of the story was that she "shadowed" him the entire time and edited his shopping cart.  He was insulted.  My mother's version of the story was that he "didn't know what he was doing in a store."  Apparently, they fought over Cheerios.  He put a box in the cart...she pointed out the sign said "Buy One Get One Free" and he responded saying, "I only want one box.  I don't like to waste."

The system that worked best was the combination of my mother and me.  She did the prep work, taking inventory of what we needed, researching sales, clipping coupons.  Only after I stopped working full time did I have the patience for this.  I viewed it as a way to spend time with her that she enjoyed.  I also learned how to be a better shopper.

After a protracted process in the store, we would end up in the check-out line...me in the front loading the items onto the belt, my mother behind my cart, watching the cashier like a hawk.  She caught many mistakes.   The clerks knew that, even though I had my wallet out to pay, my mother was the one in charge.  She even directed them as to which kind of bag to put which items in. 

Today, I went to the grocery store.  I kept looking for her in the aisles. 

At check-out, the young kid behind the register asked me a simple question: "Paper or Plastic?"

I turned to look behind me but there was no one there to answer for me.

I turned back to the clerk, a lump in my throat, and said, "Doesn't matter."