I perused the meager frozen pizza section, and finally settled upon some sausage pizza pockets. I was feeling supremey, but I guess they didn't think supreme was good enough. I picked out a pizza pocket box, walked back to the frozen dinners, grabbed a Hungry Man meal, and then decided I better get some milk. I wandered over to the dairy department and decided to try the new "light-blocking" Hood containers I've heard so much about. They were $1.59 instead of the clear plastic $1.49 ones next to it. I figured the dime was worth the curiosity investment.
While grabbing some vitamin-C fortified milk in the opaque container, I got a craving for yogurt. (I forgot to mention I haven't eaten all day.) I picked out a coffee, and then tried to decide between boysenberry, and my all-time favorite, blueberry. I stuck with the tried and true, and headed up to the front to pay. Passing a book rack, I saw a book which suited my comical humor this evening, a bought it. I looked at the price first though - seven bucks! What a rip-off.
I paid for my stuff, to a grand total of $15.48, and then when blank when Sarah, my cashier, asked "Plastic or paper?" (Notice they say plastic first - that's the answer they want you to give.) I said plastic would be fine, and Sarah demurely threw all my groceries down to the end of the table to the bagger. (I missed the bagger's name, but he told me to have a nice night, so he gets brownie points.) I thought about that as I was walking through the parking lot, and how my fifteen dollars just paid for about three hours of that young lady's work, and she had the audacity to throw my groceries down the counter. I didn't really contemplate complaining though, I was too tired. The thing that bugged me most was that she didn't really realize that she'd done anything wrong.
So, I get back to work, I pull the dinner out of the box, and flip the box over to read the directions. I cut the wrapping off the cranberry dessert thingy, poked holes in the rest of it, and cooked it for five minutes on high. Five minutes into my new book, the microwave beeped, and I put it on for another five minutes at 50%. Ten minutes into my book, the dinner is cooked. I pull it out of the microwave, set it on the table, and pull the wrapping off the rest of the dinner.
It was at this point in time that I noticed something: The dinner had green peas, NOT yellow corn. I figured there must've been some mistake at the factory or something. I imagined some sort of little note in the box, "Due to a shortage of yellow sweet corn, our factories have had to substitute green peas for a limited time. We hope this does not detract from your dining experience." I shrugged, tucked my book into my sweatshirt tied around my waist, put my spoon in my pocket at an odd angle, picked up my blueberry yogurt and mug of milk in one hand (after deciding to eat it before the coffee) and my dinner in the other hand. I took my food back to my computer, sat down, and began to eat.
It was about halfway through my dinner that I realized that the fried chicken was in fact, sliced turkey in gravy and stuffing. It took a second to sink in that what I really wanted was fried chicken. I finally decided to take a closer look at my dish, and realized that the apple crumb dessert had mutated into a cranberry mush dessert, and that explained why I had green peas and not corn. (After all, everyone knows you never get the good dessert when you get peas in your TV dinners.) I was relieved to find however, that I still had my mashed potatoes. One outta four ain't bad I suppose.
After finishing my turkey dinner, I took the tray back into the kitchen. Placing the fork in the sink, I pulled out the trash can and peered into its depths. There, I found the back of the box staring at me, a large picture of what I had just eaten printed upon it. Taking the box out, I turned it over and found an even larger picture of the dinner I had just eaten printed upon it. As I threw the box back in, and the tray back on top of it, I reflected that there was an obvious reason for me missing Swanson's apology note for replacing the corn with peas. The reason was that they had replaced the entire dinner, and the apology note for that was probably still sitting on the shelf at the grocery store.
In retrospect, I suppose I should have paid closer attention to what I bought at the grocery store. They pulled the old bait n' switch on me. They pulled me in with enticing thoughts of crispy fried chicken, and instead sold me the mediocre turkey dinner. If you'll excuse me, I have a grocery store to visit, and a dinner date with a Hungry Man Fried Chicken Dinner. Sometimes, people just have to be taught a lesson.
Written by Doug Noel 10/23/97
Copyright 1997