2019-08-02 - Grocery Labyrinth

It's a warm afternoon, a beautiful day really. Sunny, breezy, lovely for doing something outdoors. Or, if you're Corey, to go shopping. He's currently near the entrance, a shopping cart in front of him as-yet unfilled, looking puzzled. "Where the fuck is the wine?" he mutters to himself; last time he came here, it was right there in the first aisle!

Eleanor is not far from the door herself, with a basket in hand rather than a full cart. Clearly just an "I forgot" run. She glances over at Corey and chuckles a little at the young man's dilemma. "They move stuff around all the time in here. After a while you learn you just have to stroll all the aisles."

"Huh?" Corey's wine-dilemma-bubble is broken, and he blinks over at Eleanor, taking a few seconds to process what she said. "Oh! Great. So it's like a labyrinth, where all the shelves move? We could get stuck in here. Stranded with the overpriced organic kale." With a firm nod, he then decides, "You can be my guide." So he's just going to.. follow her around the shop? Great, not creepy at all. Seeing that this aisle contains the cereal, however, he pulls down a couple boxes. One of rice krispies, one of cocoa pops. Mature.

The redhead is dressed simply, in denim shorts of modest cut, sandals, and a pale green peasant blouse with embroidered flowers at the neckline. Eleanor shakes her head a little bit. "Think of it more like IKEA, where you are herded through every department to maximize your impulse buying." Having been dubbed his guide she also adds, "Check the expiration dates on everything, or some of the things might be expired by tomorrow."

There's a brief, haunted expression on Corey's face as Eleanor likens this place to IKEA. "...definitely need a guide," he reaffirms, before lifting up his boxes of cereal and checking. The box of cocoa pops gets swapped. "Thanks!" he then adds, enthusiastically. "That one was only 'til August 3rd. Who the hell eats a whole box of cocoa pops in two days?"

"Someone in college, clearly. No one over the age of 25 eats them at all," Eleanor ripostes with a faint smirk. "There's this thing called a metabolism, and once you get past that age, it slows down, and all those delicious sugary carb bombs you adored in your youth, start causing parts of you to inflate like the Michelin Man."

Brief pause, then, "Heeeey. I'm in college. Also, they're pretty handy for baking with," Corey objects, then shakes his head. "Nah. Never gonna happen. Because if it does, I'm basically dead by forty," he adds, pushing his cart along a bit and gazing at all the stuff on the aisle. "I'm Corey, by the way," he adds, friendly-like.

"Eleanor. I've probably seen you in passing. I own Espresso Yourself in the strip mall downtown." She plucks up a healthier cereal for herself. Special K vanilla almond. It's like Frosted Flakes for grown ass adults. "You in school here?" she asks.

There's a nod from Corey. "I've been in there, the coffee is goooood," he then confirms with a grin. "Something to keep me awake while waiting for the machines at the laundromat." From cooking stuff to chips and other snacks, which don't appear to interest the student. "Yeah, over at Wash-U's Hoquiam campus," he affirms, meandering along the aisle keeping pace with his guide.

"What are you studying?" Eleanor asks. She picks up some bananas and grapes from the produce section, looking each item over with a careful glance. She clearly doesn't trust the store to only stock the freshest of things.

Onions, potatoes, tomatoes and garlic heads, these all go into Corey's cart after being checked for bruises and fungus. "Culinary science," he replies distractedly, picking up a honeydew melon and inspecting it carefully, before putting it back and taking a different one.

"That's a thing? Not just cooking school or pastry school or whatever? But culinary science? Or are you doing that cool stuff with the liquid nitrogen and smoke and such?" Eleanor asks curiously. She doesn't seem to grab any veggies, so she must already have those stocked at home. Hopefully.

"It's all of the above," Corey responds, adding some asparagus and beets, then finally moving on beyond the fresh(ish) produce, towards the meat section. "A toe dipped in each of the various discplines, and a cross-section of how to design new dishes and flavours."

"Interesting. When you finish will you open a restaurant somewhere?" Eleanor asks it as if implying it won't be in Gray Harbor, because who the hell would stay here if they don't have to, or don't feel compelled to. She looks to just be here for breakfast things and fruit, since she doesn't even peruse the meats.

Studying some packs of beef mince and lean turkey chunks, Corey decides on the latter, setting two down in his cart. "Maybe. I'm mostly hoping to get a place in a research and development kitchen. There's a good one in Seattle," he replies distractedly as he checks out the whole chickens.

"Now that sounds like a fun job. Getting to experiment with recipes all day? Do they need taste testers? My waistline may object but my tastebuds wouldn't." Eleanor seems amused. She moves to get a half gallon of milk from the dairy case while he's debating birds.

"It's hit and miss, sometimes things really don't work out right, but it's usually fun," Corey acknowledges with a smile. "Taste testers? Only people with experience, alas. It's a surprisingly competitive field." He adds a chicken to his cart, and meanders onwards.

"Clearly I went into the wrong profession. If I'd know there was such a thing as professional taste tester, I'd have been all over that in my youth," Eleanor quips. "So what are you making with all that? And for who? I'm assuming that's not just for you."

"Hm? Oh, this is for me, my sister, my housemate, and the five guys and girls living next door, and a random guy we invited," Corey confirms. "We're gonna do a cookout." Firm nod, as he moves on to the tinned foods. A bunch of cans are pulled down; baked beans, sweetcorn, hotdogs, chicken soup and tomato soup.

"Oh that's very nice. I hope they're bringing stuff so it's not all you having to cook and buy the food. Or that they'll at least clean up everything after as a thank you," Eleanor notes. She's clearly just strolling with him now, as she doesn't seem inclined to add any more things to her basket.

There's a grin from the student. "They're all chipping in, and I love cooking, so I really don't mind. They're totes on cleanup duty though," Corey confirms, moving on to the baking section. A biiig bag of flour, some baking soda, some vanilla essence, and a big bag of sugar. And, if he can find one, a big jar of peanut butter.

"Peanut butter is on the next aisle with the jelly and probably soup today, for no apparent reason," Eleanor notes with a glance at the shelves. All she has left to get is bread and that's near the checkout today.

"Raaandom," Corey objects to the hodgepodge placement of items. Onwards they go. "So what d'you do, Eleanor of the Safeway Wisdom?" he prompts, meandering rather than being in any kind of rush.

"I run my coffee shop. I do some research on, ah, town history as a hobby. And recently I began dating a very handsome horticulturist who, for some reason, thinks I'm pretty." Eleanor shrugs and blushes a little even mentioning her beau.

"Oh, cool. Found out anything interesting?" Corey asks with regards to the history hobby, then flashes a grin at the blush. "Well, you are. Lucky horticulturalist," he assures, snagging that peanut butter jar as they mosey on past the soups.

"Oh here and there a little bit," Eleanor vagues. At the compliment she snorts. "Oh stop, I'm old enough to be your....much older sister." Yeah that works. "Ok, I need to get checked out and head home. I have work to do later. But it was nice meeting you, Corey. Stop by Espresso Yourself and I'm comp you a drink." She smile and heads for the registers, grabbing a loaf of bread on the way.