It's been ten weeks since I stepped foot into a Harris-Teeter. The boycott has been quite intentional, and the decision to sever my ties with the HT was one that I debated and considered and contemplated for nearly a year. But they're everywhere, so convenience kept trumping some moral and ethical principles that HT seemed to be fooling with.
My major trouble with the Teeter has to do with the fact that everytime I get hooked on a food item, the price continues to be jacked up and up and up. The black beans went up 20 cents. The ice cream an entire dollar. The organic milk is the most expensive in town. But the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back finally came when Heath's favorite (and admittedly non-nutritious, but that can be another blog's subject) Spider-Man macaroni and cheese went from 87 cents to $1.37 in less than 4 months. So ten weeks ago, I said, Nope, I'm not your sucker anymore, Teeter.
And then tonight at 7pm we were out of milk. And I had somewhere to be by 7:30. And HT is right around the corner. (Actually, three different HTs are right around the corner.) I caved. Totally and completely caved under the pressure of time and milk-lovin' babies.
I felt guilty walking through the store, like I was cheating on Trader Joe's, my new and better boyfriend. The lights seemed brighter. The rows upon rows of stacked items seemed taller, overwhelming. And the dairy section seemed frigidly cold.
As I wandered to the milk section, not making eye contact with anyone, I thought, You're here for milk, that's it. Get in. Get out. When I opened the refrigerator door, there below the milk was the old familiar red VIC card sale sign. HT organic milk was actually on sale. I felt a little starry-eyed for a moment, then I remembered sweet Joe and his milk, always cheaper than this "sale" price. I got a grip (and the milk) and moved on.
Then a little voice inside my head (sounding an awful lot like Heath, whose last request as I headed out the door was, Get some ice cream, Mama. I'm out of Mint Chocolate Mint.) said, You're already here. Might as well check the ice cream.
I did a quick scan. Ben and Jerry's was on sale, but at nearly 5.00 for a pint, I was not going to be lured in. Edy's was still lingering in its bogus state of discount. $4.99. The horror. Just as I was ready to smugly make my getaway with my emergency gallon of milk, I saw something below the Breyers. Tee tiny print, barely legible, but I am very familiar with the story it was telling.
Buy Two, Get Three Free.
The angels sang. The clouds parted. The doves flew. The bugels trumpeted.
Like a Charlottean hunkering down for a snow storm, I grabbed the chilly containers with a thief's fury. The hand basket was so heavy, I could barely carry it over to the self-check-out. But don't worry, I made it, tripping over myself only a few times. Now here's where you might say, if you were only buying milk, why did you have a basket? I don't have a good answer. I like to think it was divine intervention. Buy Two, Get Three Free does not come along very often. I can tell you my new boyfriend, Mr. Joe, he's great and all, but his ice cream section is dismal.
Have I kissed and made up with Harris-Teeter? Hardly. I'll be back with Trader Joe by the end of the week. Will I get Mark to stop by HT and load up with five more Breyers before they change the sales on Wednesday? Oh, yes.
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