I’m going to admit something that I’m not proud of. Until recently I never shopped at Aldi’s because, speaking plainly, I was a snob about it.
Don’t ask me why, but I equated shopping there with, I don’t even know. Something beneath me. Ridiculous, I know. But I’m admitting it.
I assumed everything there was off-brand and yucky and that if I bought produce there, chances were ten to one that I’d come down with some kind of stomach-lining-eating bacteria with a side of tuberculosis.
I’m converted. I will go there and bag my own stuff and hug the bananas and the oranges because they never saw the inside of a Giant Eagle. And I have Giant Eagle to thank for it.
Here’s the deal. I’m aware that getting four little bags of food at Giant Eagle is going to run me about 75 dollars because I’m paying for the nice store, the pretty floor tile, the overpriced Jarlsberg cheese, the wide selection that can be found in their international aisle, and until this weekend, I never batted an eyelash about it.
This weekend I went to buy avocados and limes at Giant Eagle for a family dinner party. I grabbed a self-scanner doohickey and headed to produce. When the sticker-printing machine kicked this baby out for five avocados (photo courtesy of Saucy, my bitch):
I was suddenly all [eyelashes batting furiously]. Dudes! I am not purchasing the avocado tree! I just want five avocados. Avocados that had I bothered to take the time to head to Sam’s Club would only have cost me about 4 bucks.
Trying to see through the blurry screen being created by my furiously fluttering eyelashes, I headed over to the limes — a must have for pico de gallo and fresh margaritas. I needed ten.
Eight dollars and ninety cents.
I could have purchased that at Sams’ Club for three and a half dollars.
Realizing the ridiculousness of the prices, I wanted to go to the back of the store and Chuck Norris their stupid giant chicken-man decoration. I wanted to go to floral and pop all of their stupid Dora the Explorer balloons. I wanted to throttle the produce guy for not having any overpriced cilantro in the store. At this point, my eyelashes were like BLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL.
I lost a few of them in the process. They’re now not as thugaliciously thick as they once were.
I have no idea why it bothered me as much as it did on this particular trip. All I know is that I was shaking when I got to my parents’ house armed with the bags of overpriced shit. I shook when I told them and my sister how horrible it is for Giant Eagle to claim to be trying to save people money when they act like there are gold nuggets of riches to be found inside of their fruit. I was offered several glasses of wine to calm my nerves down.
Then I realized. Complaining isn’t helping. Continuing to shop there and support them isn’t helping. Drinking is definitely helping.
Then I decided. I’m going to take the advice of those readers that write me all, “God, PittGirl. Shut up about the things that piss you off and DO something about them for a change.”
So I am. From this day forward, I will no longer shop at Giant Eagle. I’m going to Aldi’s and to Target and to Walmart and to Sam’s Club. Anywhere but there. I don’t care if David Conrad holds a boob-signing at Giant Eagle. I will patiently lie in wait outside of the store until such a time as he can Sharpie “To my number one fan!” on my cleavage.
And anyone that writes me to say, “But if you shop at WalMart and Sam’s Club, look what you’re supporting!” I’ll say to you, “I’m supporting reasonably-priced foods.” And anyone that has a problem can take this $65 receipt from Giant Eagle and choke on it because twenty plus dollars for limes and avocados is enough to make me all BLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL.