Looking For Rice In All The Wrong Places

(Alternate Title: Conspiricey Theory)

All I wanted was a bag of rice. That was the goal as M and I entered the supermarket last night. It should have been a quick three-minute find-grab-pay operation - one minute if it weren't for that pesky pay part. Little did I know that I'd actually be grateful to reach the checkout stand to pay.

While M went off in search of other grocery items, I headed for the rice aisle. I've been shopping at this supermarket for a few years now, so I know where to go: Aisle 3, right side, all the way at the end. I set my brain and feet on auto pilot and allowed my eyes to admire the recent store renovations.

For the past two months, the supermarket has been undergoing an extreme makeover. It has new flooring, new lighting, and new signage. The ceiling and the walls have been painted. Before, it felt like one was shopping in a giant food warehouse. Now, it feels like one is shopping in a giant Starbucks. There's something about a supermarket with mood lighting that strikes me as a bit bizarre.

That was the thought running through my brain as my feet stopped in front of the rice section. I grabbed a bag, put it in my basket, and walked away. As I reached the end of the aisle, I happened to glance at the basket and noticed a misprint on the bag. Instead of "white long grain rice", the words "wide egg noodles" were printed on it. An internal alarm went off and my auto pilot disengaged.

I raced back down the aisle, put the noodles back, and started scanning nearby shelves in earnest. It became readily apparent that there wasn't any rice in the immediate vicinity. I slowly walked the length of the aisle, carefully inspecting both sides, but found nothing even remotely resembling rice.

"It must be an aisle over," I said to no one in particular.

"You're probably right. I recommend checking Aisle 2 first," no one replied.

Heeding the advice, I checked Aisle 2, but didn't spot a single grain of rice. While silently scolding myself for listening to an imaginary no one, I ventured over to Aisle 4 and repeated the shelf-by-shelf inspection without success.

Flustered, I started walking the length of the store, examining the newly installed signs for a clue. Pet Food and Supplies? No. Kitchen Organization and Gadgets? No. Chips and Cookies? Maybe. Juices and Sodas? No. This went on for several aisles until I ran out of store. For good measure, I doubled back, but it was useless. Everything anyone could possibly want was listed except rice.

At this point, you might be asking, "Why didn't you just ask a grocery clerk for help?" That seems like a reasonable idea, but the situation had progressed beyond the realm of reason. It had become clear that I had discovered a storewide conspiracy. It was obvious they didn't want the public buying rice and since the clerks worked for the store, they weren't to be trusted. It was up to me alone to find the rice and I had to use every ounce of wit and wile I could muster.

I was contemplating how to best implement a grid-search technique in a grocery store environment without raising suspicions when M found me and asked if I was ready to go. Before I could fill her in on my plan, she spotted the empty basket, shook her head in disbelief, and promptly led me to the rice.

As I had suspected, the store had nefariously hidden it in the last place anybody would look – Kitchen Organization and Gadgets. I grabbed a bag, double checked it for misprints, and was grateful to reach the checkout stand to pay.