When I first moved to Los Angeles everyone recommended Trader Joe’s. From its name I assumed it was a swap meet type store. Little did I know.
One lazy afternoon I ventured to the nearest Trader Joe’s to see what all the fuss was about.
Everything I needed to keep me and my stomach and my refrigerator and pantry happy was right before me. I filled my cart with all sorts of grocery goodies.
At the check-out counter I noticed people using their own canvas bags with the Trader Joe’s logo. I wanted to be part of the Los Angeles “in” crowd so I immediately purchased one.
A Trader Joe’s bag is a status bag. Who needs a pretentious Gucci or Prada or North Face bag when you can proudly tote that Trader Joe’s bag?
Sadly there are times I need something they don’t sell at Trader Joe’s and have to visit another grocery store. The first time I did this I foolishly brought my Trader Joe’s bag with me.
Like Damien from “The Omen” when Damien was brought to the church my Trader Joe’s bag went berserk, crazy, insane, twisting and turning and wrapping itself around my throat trying to strangle me. I fought with all my might. My young life flashed before me.
Luckily a Trader Joe’s customer was driving by and came to my rescue, pulling me and the bag away from the store. Once off the store’s property the bag let go. I could breathe again.
The Trader Joe’s customer looked deep in my eyes and warned me, “Next time it will kill you.”
I angrily threw the bag in the closet. I didn’t bring it with me for two Trader Joe’s visits. When I finally decided to end its punishment I took it out of the dark dank closet and saw that it was limp, suffering severe depression, on the verge of death. Panic. Instinct told me to get it to Trader Joe’s asap.
I drove so fast. I ran red lights. I screeched my breaks in the parking lot.
Oh the shame and humiliation. People knew. They saw. They snickered. If they could they would have branded me with a “TJT” (Trader Joe’s Traitor) across my heart.
I roamed the aisles filling my bag with Trader Joe’s fruits and yogurt and vegetables and coffee beans and cheese and wine. My Trader Joe’s bag came back to life. What joy! What bliss!
This was a lesson learned from the Trader Joe’s Bag God: Thou shall never mistreat thy Trader Joe’s bag.
Amen to that.
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