Too many choices!

A new Super Store opened about a mile from my house. I had heard so much about this mega store that I was anxious to explore the wonders of “the only store I’d ever need”. So with list in hand and 30 minutes to spare, I was on my way.

Upon entering the store I was greeted with the obligatory, “Welcome to Super Store!” I was then presented with a cart that was just about the size of a 1967 Volkswagen. The store directory told me that shampoo, the first item on my list, fell under the category of Personal Care, which spanned aisles 34 to 51. I had a sense that this was going to take a while. I finally found shampoo right after the comb aisle. Hundreds of bottles that claimed to treat greasy, flaky, sticky, straight, wavy, dry, flat, frizzy, and fake hair. After much debate, I settled on a turquoise bottle claiming to cure my hair problems in six easy applications. With one item crossed off my list, I wandered past a vast array of deodorants, toothpaste, lotions, and feminine products all offering the same choice dilemmas. I mean does a woman really need THAT many options at a time of month when the choice between “here” or “to-go” seems overwhelming?

I decided to go over to the grocery area; passing 14 rows of pet supplies, 22 rows of fishing gear, and 8 rows entitled, “Foot Country.” I was intrigued but my list was urging me on to “cheese”. Not only did I have to sort through 17 different TYPES of cheese but then decide amongst a dozen different brands. I finally narrowed it down between “Sam’s simply sharp” and “Charles Chattanooga cheddar”. I shut my eyes, groped a package, and pitched it into my cart vehicle. Sure, one probably does taste better than the other but I won’t know that until my teen-age son rips open the package, eats half of it (along with a third of a box of Saltines) and proclaims, “This cheese tastes like smoked plastic.”

“Bran flakes” were next up on the list. Being more specific than “cheese” I felt that this had be an easier selection. As I rounded the corner, I felt sweat start to form on the back of my neck. Brightly colored cereal boxes, like children’s blocks, were stacked from floor to ceiling, for as far as the eye could see. I wasn’t going to make the same time investment in Cereal City as I did in Dairy Town. I squealed down the aisle and grabbed whatever struck my eye. Before I knew it I had quite a selection including, Marshmallow Misfits, Kiwi Clusters, Oatmeal Overload and four versions of Boundless Bran.

I hung a right at the end of the aisle and decided to make a fast get-away. People were all around me muttering things like, “Should I get the yellow sponge or the blue sponge?” and “I didn’t know there were so many beans.” It was a little unnerving. A silver haired man motioned to me from the pasta aisle. “Can you tell me what noodles to get?” It took me 20 minutes to decide on this,” he had a jar of Sister Cecilia’s ham and sprout sauce clutched in his hand. In a former life he probably was in charge of a multi-million company responsible for thousands of decisions a week. His pursuit for a plate of spaghetti had reduced him to a babbling idiot. “I’m sorry man, but I’ve been here an hour and ten minutes and still have six things left on my list.” I motioned to my cart containing a package of cheese, shampoo for color-challenged hair, and 8 boxes of cereal. He shuffled off, mumbling something about just drinking his dinner. I felt bad about not helping him but sometimes you simply cannot give away your precious decision-making resources. Besides, Pasta Pavilion would have taken hours to negotiate.