Observed Absurdities™ 42 - Any Way You Slice It

I recently made the mistake of picking up some groceries for Beloved.

I call it a mistake because going into a grocery store with a short list of simple items that Beloved wants me to purchase never...and I use that term advisedly...never turns out as one would expect...unless one would expect a disaster somewhere on a scale between minor and earth-shattering.

It sounds so simple when she says something like "get a can of olives." So......simple......yeah-no.

Black olives or green olives? Small, medium, or large? Pitted or non-pitted?

Or ex-pitted?

Or pitiful?

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And then there's the trauma of trying to FIND the stuff. I'm pretty sure there was an edict sent out to all grocery store managers that requires them to lay out their stores with absolutely no regard to any line of logical thinking. Are olives a vegetable or a condiment? Beans are kind of a vegetable, but I put them in chili so maybe they should be with the sauces.

During the recent trip mentioned in today's opening sentence, I just needed to get some sliced provolone cheese. Imagine my glee when I saw a large placard featuring sliced cheese.

Imagine the deflation of my adventurous spirit when I saw what was on the shelves under the "Sliced Cheese" placard:

I eventually found the cheese...under a sign that said "Dad Jokes For Sale".