Once an annual pre-Burning Man stop for cheap vodka, Cabernet, and Trek Mix, Trader Joe's is now a weekly essential ― seriously, who can survive without Mandarin orange chicken, chocolate-covered espresso beans, or processed enchiladas? But guess what: While you're intent on stocking up, you're pissing off every other shopper in the store. Here's why:
You don't know how to drive and/or park.
Every Trader Joe's parking lot everywhere is an effed-up jungle from hell. If you don't know how to properly wield your Subaru into a space the size of a kiddy pool, just walk. And once you're done shopping, throw your groceries in the car and drive. Don't sit there and phone your psychic or listen to the end of Fresh Air. It's rude.
You have no clue where to properly place your cart when getting items.
If you weren't such a fucking idiot, you would leave your cart at the front of the store by the flowers. Who buys orchids at Trader Joe's? The person you just dumped if you have any self-respect is the correct answer. Everyone knows their plants die around the same time your Fair Trade University bananas go bad, i.e., 10 minutes from now.
You stand in the middle of the aisle while assessing your dried fruit options.
Quit blocking the aisles while you aimlessly wander about searching for those tricolored baby carrots you got last time. That shit is gone, man. You need to let it go. And for that matter, don't stand in everyone's way for 10 minutes while you determine whether to buy the organic chunky sunflower seed butter or the organic creamy sunflower seed butter. They cost 50 cents combined, just get both and MOVE!
Your fucking kids OMFG PUT A LEASH ON IT.
You're a sample hog, plain and simple.
It's a sample, not lunch! Now get the fuck out of the way so I can get my five Dixie cups of pad thai. Next up, perfectly mixing my sip of coffee with sugar and soymilk.
You're in your gym clothes or pajamas.
You're not 12 ― put on some real pants. You've left the house and people are forced to gaze upon you. And what if you were to die in a freak accident when a Charles Shaw display fell on you? Is this how you want to be remembered? As a grown-ass fool in stretch lycra who can't afford to shop at Whole Foods? Don't answer that.
You have fifteen items in the ten-item line.
That's just cheating, son. If you want to see the skinny white bitches in yoga pants turn ghetto in 5 seconds flat, just try it. I'll be there backing them up because yo, it says TEN items, can't you read!? And no, having fifteen boxes of the same cereal doesn't count.
You don't chip in.
Pack your own damn groceries, lazy! Pitch in and let's keep this line moving. I still have to get to Whole Foods, Safeway, and Food 4 Less to get the shit they don't sell here. And you can ditch that smugly superior look when you take out your own bags. I forgot mine at home, okay? Quit patting yourself on the back for shopping at Trader Joe's; all your money is going to the same red corporate America. Stop trying to make yourself feel like you're all green and locavore and shit, you're just as trashy as the people who shop at Safeway; you just have 10,000 reusable bags and like better olives, cheese, and frozen foods. On that note, make sure to pick up the frozen "El Super Authentico Burrito," it's off the chain.
And perhaps most importantly, you hate other people who shop at Trader Joe's because you hate yourself.
You're pushy, consumeristic, and gluttonous. Other shoppers project unto you everything you hate about yourself; a mirror held up to the hellscape of your own existence. Enjoy those flax seed chips and spicy hummus until they're inevitably discontinued; they'll be doing the same!