"Do you carry couscous?"
"Christmas?"
"No, couscous."
"..."
"It's a middle eastern thing."
"...?"
"Sort of a pasta, only granular-"
"The pasta is right over here."
"No, I mean it's... thank you."
* * * * *
So I go to the grocery store that I've bought couscous from before, and sure enough they've got three brands to choose from, one of which offers an array of flavours. I grab the mid-priced one and head to the checkout. Two people ahead of me is a woman buying a couple boxes of the flavoured kind--one was spinach and something, and the other had something to do with garlic, I think. In front of me is an oldish woman buying, among other things, maxi pads; she seems very concerned about the possibility that I might either snatch her maxi pads away before she can pay for them, or worse, tell the person behind me that I strongly suspect she has a vagina (and then they'd tell the person behind them, and so on, and you know there's just no putting a lid on something like that when it gets out). It doesn't calm her any to have to suffer through the cashier asking the lady with the couscous, "Is it like rice?", "Is it made of rice?", "Do you serve it on the side, like rice?" I'll tell you the truth: it was me that was getting annoyed with this exchange. The maxi lady was upset about nothing other than being trapped behind a Chinese woman buying couscous and a man who would announce any minute that she has a vagina. Her sanity was on a knife-edge, and who could blame her? The couscous woman is finally allowed to go, and the maxi pads are rung up and paid for (no airmiles--because then they'd know too!) and now it's my turn. I'm a friendly guy, I say "hi", and stand aside as she rings up my purchases. One box of couscous goes into the bag while the other remains in her hand, suspended in front of her baffled face ("there are so many kinds?!", her goggle-eyes seem to say) while the other hand continues to bag my stuff. I pay (with airmiles, 'cause I don't care who knows about my vag) and continue to wait for it, the question. "Wow, the other lady, she bought some of this too." Yes, I noticed. "So, you just make it in water?" Yes, just like that. "Like rice?" Well, not exactly. You use it like rice. "So you serve it as a side?" No, I mean, you could, but I just use it in dishes... I guess like you might use rice. I could tell this pleased her. She let me have the receipt and go.
Such a lot of fuss over such tiny food.
"Christmas?"
"No, couscous."
"..."
"It's a middle eastern thing."
"...?"
"Sort of a pasta, only granular-"
"The pasta is right over here."
"No, I mean it's... thank you."
* * * * *
So I go to the grocery store that I've bought couscous from before, and sure enough they've got three brands to choose from, one of which offers an array of flavours. I grab the mid-priced one and head to the checkout. Two people ahead of me is a woman buying a couple boxes of the flavoured kind--one was spinach and something, and the other had something to do with garlic, I think. In front of me is an oldish woman buying, among other things, maxi pads; she seems very concerned about the possibility that I might either snatch her maxi pads away before she can pay for them, or worse, tell the person behind me that I strongly suspect she has a vagina (and then they'd tell the person behind them, and so on, and you know there's just no putting a lid on something like that when it gets out). It doesn't calm her any to have to suffer through the cashier asking the lady with the couscous, "Is it like rice?", "Is it made of rice?", "Do you serve it on the side, like rice?" I'll tell you the truth: it was me that was getting annoyed with this exchange. The maxi lady was upset about nothing other than being trapped behind a Chinese woman buying couscous and a man who would announce any minute that she has a vagina. Her sanity was on a knife-edge, and who could blame her? The couscous woman is finally allowed to go, and the maxi pads are rung up and paid for (no airmiles--because then they'd know too!) and now it's my turn. I'm a friendly guy, I say "hi", and stand aside as she rings up my purchases. One box of couscous goes into the bag while the other remains in her hand, suspended in front of her baffled face ("there are so many kinds?!", her goggle-eyes seem to say) while the other hand continues to bag my stuff. I pay (with airmiles, 'cause I don't care who knows about my vag) and continue to wait for it, the question. "Wow, the other lady, she bought some of this too." Yes, I noticed. "So, you just make it in water?" Yes, just like that. "Like rice?" Well, not exactly. You use it like rice. "So you serve it as a side?" No, I mean, you could, but I just use it in dishes... I guess like you might use rice. I could tell this pleased her. She let me have the receipt and go.
Such a lot of fuss over such tiny food.
VIEW 15 of 15 COMMENTS
legionnaire:
Tunnel vision never ceases to amaze me. It's difficult to believe that people can know so little about other cutures and still manage to get along. Especially not knowing about couscous, which has been a staple of my diet for some time now (the fact that it's cheap and easy make it an ideal poor man's meal.)
hellkitten:
You should definitely post a couscous recipe in the kitchen group. I bought some and didn't know what to do with it. 