Grocery Shopping Battles

This morning I'm preparing to go grocery shopping, as I do every Wednesday. To at least three-quarters of the population, the phrase "preparing to go grocery shopping" has no meaning. But for those of us who shrink from the countless inane encounters and pushy crowds of an everyday life, it means everything.

I used to shop at a local chain, but have recently discovered a Trader Joe's just 40 minutes south, in a crowded area of New Jersey. Since TJ's is vastly cheaper than anywhere else, I kind of have to go there. Besides, it gives you that warm fuzzy of shopping in the granola-friendly Trader Joe's atmosphere.

Problem is, this area of New Jersey is terribly overcrowded. There are people, people everywhere. In small, squeezed streets of what were once separate small towns, women with starched hair and pinched expressions maneuver massive SUVs that take just a bit over their fair share of the road.

I really don't know how these people live like this all the time. I don't know why there aren't accidents all the time, constantly. New Jersey residents are truly terrible drivers, almost as bad as Bostonians--weaving across the road, chittering on phones, never using turn signals.

Anyway, the traffic gamut makes my fingers weak. And then I have to face the crowds. When I get into the parking lot, I sit with my head on the steering wheel for a minute, just to recuperate.

It's hard to explain to a non-introvert what the experience of crowding is like. Not crowds--introversion is not enochlophobia; this is not about the suffocating quantity of people--it's the constant chatter going on around you, the idiotic impulse most people feel to either a) say whatever comes into their head to the person they're with, or b) if they're not with someone, getting out their cell phone because they can't stand not talking to someone even for the short time it takes to choose groceries.

This chatter is like breathing pollution to introverts. Jonathan Rauch's statement, "please shush" sums up an introvert's deepest desire. Please stop talking about nothing. Please be silent for a bit.

For me, this doesn't just apply to someone talking at me over the phone or at a social event. It's all around me, all the time, like some sort of blaring klaxon that keeps me jittery and anxious.

So that's what happens in the grocery store. People talk, talk, talk. They try to make small talk as we stand choosing tea. They say pointless things to the checkout person. They review their sex lives while on the phone. They keep a running commentary with a friend while letting their children run around hapless and screaming.

Like many introverts, I need about two hours of alone recovery time for every hour of small-talk-type social events. After the grocery store, after I've battled pushy, greedy, permanently annoyed drivers for over an hour, and after I've walked through a sea of talk that feels like walking through verbal thorns I need the rest of the day to recover. I can work. I can function. But I just need, desperately to be left alone.