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STUCK MIDDLE: Pleasure and peril at the supermarket

By BILL HUMLEKER, Published: September 26, 2026

Most guys would prefer waiting glumly outside Victoria’s Secret while their significant other chooses her assorted whatnot than be saddled with grocery store duty.

Neither obligation compares with a televised sporting event (any event!) while comfortably ensconced in a favorite chair at home, refreshment in hand. But if I must choose, give me the market. Arm me with a well-defined list and I am good to go. And the “well-defined” requirement is absolutely key else do not fuss about what brand of peach preserves you get or which size of Kleenex box is procured. Keep it simple and make it precise. Really.

As a matter of fact, I do not mind the grocery store. I have very early memories of riding in the kid seat of her cart as Mom pushed it up and down the grocery aisles. If she spoke with a friend or was otherwise distracted, I thought it was fun to try to pull this-or-that off the nearest shelf trying to get it into our cart. Just a few of those random things actually made it home, and I can remember Mom muttering “… now where on Earth did this come from?” I knew, and I imagine that she must have known as well, but I was privately triumphant whenever that happened.

I have grown to “know” my markets, where everything is, which brand is cheaper at which store, and where I can find something very specific which may not be in just any market. Even better, I have gotten to know personnel in each market. The butcher at one market knows I buy NY Strips when they are on sale, and when they are he waves me over. The dairy person at another store knows that The Empress (TE … she who makes my lists) will ask for only one brand of milk and if they are out of its 2% on the shelf, said dairy person will go and find some for me without my having to ask. It is all about personal service and in most of our markets we can still enjoy it. The managers may not know my name, but they recognize my face and remember that I am a good customer. They smile, and that simple hospitality and a nod go a long way.

And then there is Senior Day. I think that most of the markets have one day each week where seniors get a small break at the register.  Back when there may have been doubt, I used to be asked “Are you ‘special’ today?” when I checked out. Not any more … they know. And, in fact, I usually try to avoid Senior Day because, for example, I would rather not “compete” with anyone over cheap toilet paper (it’s the first thing to run out). I have witnessed near fisticuffs on that aisle more than once.

And then there are folks who think that a grocery aisle is a good place to express their opinion of something I have written. It is usually something that they like and agree with (such as I loathe politics right alongside stray hurricanes), but occasionally someone has an “issue” with something I have penned (traffic circles) and somehow the deli counter is an appropriate place to express displeasure. I always smile and thank anyone who expresses an opinion, good or bad, of whatever I wrote. Good to know that people still read. See you at the grocers!    

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Stuck in the Late Middle columnist Bill Humleker writes about family, culture and supermarket senior days from his home in Flat Rock.