I don’t particularly enjoy shopping in December. One of the worst days of my life was the Saturday I went to the mall a week before Christmas. The line for the Lego store wrapped around an entire corner of the building and was at least 200 people deep. Every shopper seemed panicked and the vibes were hostile at best. Like everyone was ready to throw a punch if it meant preventing someone else from getting the one remaining wanted item. I vowed that day to never go to a mall in December again. I’ve done the majority of my shopping online from the comfort and safety of my own couch since.
And then, of course, there’s the cost. Calling the price of groceries “a hot topic” is like calling the inside of a volcano “a little warm.” Inflation and the price of eggs seems to be the only thing anyone is talking about, and the cost of food is playing a major role in politics and policy. So much so that in the most recent presidential election, seven out of 10 voters said they were concerned about the price of groceries. The cost of food has risen 25% from 2019 to 2023, and most of us have felt the pinch.
But I love grocery shopping this time of year.
Full disclosure: I always like grocery shopping. I’ll sometimes go to the grocery store and spend an hour or so walking around just to relieve stress. It’s a relatively more affordable form of retail therapy than clothing or gadget shopping, and it’s a decent way to get a bit of mind-clearing walking. Plus I enjoy the mood-boosting satisfaction of crossing items off a list. And having nourished children.
For some reason, those benefits seem to go into hyperdrive during December, and my like for the chore turns to love.
Maybe it’s because shopping for food is so much lower stakes than shopping for this year’s version of “Tickle Me Elmo” or the must-have Ugg model for teens or a gift for a grown man who buys himself whatever he wants and is therefore impossible to shop for. Shopping for food seems so simple compared to those herculean tasks.
Maybe it’s because calorie consciousness is largely abandoned from mid-November through the new year, making deliciousness the sole goal of any trip to the market, thereby making most shoppers a lot happier. Maybe it’s because grocery stores pull out all the stops and stock the shelves with the finest seasonal food so shopping feels like a treasure hunt. Or maybe it’s because every cart of my fellow shoppers tells a lovely story.
My favorite job in high school was when I worked as a grocery bagger. Each person who came through my aisle had a different story to tell with the items they placed on the conveyor belt to be scanned and bagged. Sometimes they would tell me what they were planning to cook with their tuna cans and molasses. Other times I could only imagine what their plans were for okra and star fruit.
I got to know the regulars and the kind of food they liked and could predict whether someone wanted paper or plastic bags based on what they were about to purchase. I could tell if they were about to pay with a check, cash or card. I knew who had already checked the egg carton for cracks, and who needed me to do it for them. I learned everything about them, sometimes without ever exchanging a word.
This was perfect for me as someone who loves learning about people but doesn’t always love getting to know people. I love learning about people in an anthropological way, since I’m not much a person for small talk. Or, if I’m being really honest, I enjoy people in a nosy kind of way. So I was always fascinated with the little glimpses I got into shoppers’ lives.
And I still am. Even though I am long retired from my illustrious grocery bagging career, I still love knowing, or guessing, who is buying what and why. When I’m placing an order at the meat counter for beef tenderloin, I want to know everything about the plans the man next to me has for the five pounds of crab legs he’s buying.
This time of year, I know with near certainty that those plans are special. That this man is about to prepare the crab leg feast that he makes for his family every year, just like I’m about to prepare the beef tenderloin my family loves. I’m confident the woman buying fondue cheese is looking forward to her family’s traditional Christmas Eve dinner. And that the mom shopping with her two young kids in the baking aisle is about to attempt to make sugar cookies with her “helpers,” a choice she will regret for a while but look back fondly on years later.
Almost every person in the crowded grocery stores in the weeks leading up to Christmas is buying a unique combination of items to enhance their unique celebrations at this time of year. (Nosy fellow shoppers will find buttermilk and apples in my cart for our family’s traditional Christmas morning Aebleskivers, and they will likely discern that my kids will watch anxiously as I attempt to flip each dough ball in the pan, and laugh when I don’t succeed.)
But maybe it’s not my nosiness that makes grocery shopping in December so enjoyable. Instead it’s the joy in knowing everyone shopping around me is about to share their favorite foods with the people they love most. And for just a minute of our shared time at the meat counter, I get to be a part of that.