let's just call it a cult, shall we?

DISCLAIMER: THIS POSTING MAY ONLY MAKE SENSE TO SANTA CRUZ RESIDENTS.

FACT: I eat very low on the food chain. Vegetarian.
FACT: Since moving to Santa Cruz I have spent all of my grocery dollars at New Leaf.
FACT: I challenged myself for the month of March to spend fewer dollars on groceries.
FACT: I know that New Leaf's markup is ridiculous. I work for an organic produce distributor. FACT: Today, I went to Trader Joe's to source my seven-item grocery list.
SPECULATION: Since only one item was produce, I was wasn't too apprehensive.

Turns out I was apprehensive.

You see, I've only been inside a Trader Joe's one other time in my life. I don't remember the details, but I'm pretty sure that one of two things happened: 1. I ran out screaming; or 2. The person I was with had to hold my hand to get me through it.

My only memories are bright lights, Hawaiian shirts, plastic-wrapped produce, and scary-loyal customers.

I thought it was cult-ish.

But in the effort to save a few bucks for the NZ trip, I decided to give it another shot.

Here's what I noticed, in the exact order that I walked into the store:

1. They sell bananas by the each. I have never. ever. seen that before. $.19 per banana. With a homemade, funky-at-first-but-then-you-look-at-it-and-it's-cheesy sign tellling me that I can get five for a buck.
2. They have no scales to weigh produce.
3. Nearly all of their produce is wrapped. The peppers you cannot touch. The ginger you cannot rub. The lemons you cannot squeeze. And this explains reason #2.
4. They do not sell spinach. Turns out that was my only produce item on the list.
5. The "Captain's Galley" coffee kiosk looks like a prop from an SNL skit. Is that for real?

So, yeah, I'm not a Trader Joe's fan. But I reckon I did save about $10 versus shopping at New Leaf.

When I was paying, and bagging my own stuff in my pannier, the checker - a guy in his late 20's, kind of metro looking - thanked me for bagging and asked if I wanted a lottery ticket. I said, "OK" and I thought "What kind of cult gives out lottery tickets to customers?!"

Instead slipping me a lottery ticket, he slid one of those red "Admit One" coupons onto the check-writing-credit-card-slash-ATM-machine-table.

"What do I do with this?" I asked.

He looked at me like I was supposed to know that I was supposed to write my name and phone number on it and drop it off in the red pail at the front door for a weekly drawing to win a $25 gift card.

Let's just call it a cult, shall we?