He stood in the aisles watching others move round him. They seemed so sure. Their hands moved with confidence, with…well, with practiced regularity. As he turned and walked away from refrigerated goods it occurred to him that, maybe, they didn’t know what they wanted. Maybe they just bought what they always did.
It wasn’t that he was indecisive. Far from it. “I used to be but now I’m just not so sure.” He blushed at his inner monologue as he walked back to fruit and veg and smelt a melon.
Other people were doing it, so it must be ok. Piped around the store was the voice of someone telling him that he’d never be given up.
“That’s nice.” He thought.
No – not indecision. Just paralyzed by options. The singer was interrupted by women proclaiming a spillage on aisle 34. He wondered if was on sale and hurried down to see what it was, but by the time he got here it had been dealt with. Though looking at the shelves he was quite happy about that. The aisle, all of it, stretching the length of the shop itself, was dedicated to fish in various sauces. At the end was some fermented shark meat. Icelandic, the label said. He shuddered and put it, carefully, back on the shelf.
“I mean – look at this place,” he monologued. “No wonder I’m confused. How many kinds of orange juice do I need? All I want is chunky, pure juice.” He walked past another cooler. “Added vitamins, less sugar, added proteins, concentrated. Why?”
His phone buzzed. Smiling for the security camera he pulled it out.
He’d messaged his circle a simple question.
“You want pasta.”
“Soup – maybe a stew.”
“What do I want for dinner?” They would have good suggestions, and he could pick one of them
“Man Pie with Cream Sauce” (He made a note to start a “question group”)
“Cooking? So last century darling, you want Sushi”
“Lambs testicles?” (Absolutely starting a new group)
“Is this a quiz? Is there a prize? Oh, I don’t know…Meat?”
He sighed. It’s not that they were indecisive, they just liked different things.
A tall dark haired woman walked..well, more sashayed…past and smiled at him. It was a purely indulgent smile, one that said “Oh, look at me. I’m wonderful.”
He returned it and glanced in her basket. Keeping a safe distance he followed her, selecting everything she did. Except the lady razors and tampons.
He got home, flicked on his podcasts and unpacked the shopping:
Chicken, rice, white wine, some peppers, garlic, assorted vegetables – peas, corn.
What on earth was he going to do with that?
He pondered before announcing “Google.”