The bread section. You’re supposed to use plastic gloves to take out any of the bread rolls, sandwiches, etc. When nobody is looking I don’t use them. I only touch what I am buying, so who cares? I hate plastic, we use too much of it.

The only thing that’s good about plastic is that plastic comes from oil, and the more oil we use, the faster the US ally and soulmate, Saudi Arabia, the kind of bloodlusting oppressors the US loves, will run out of income. Other than that I hate plastic.

That’s deeply human, we love to see wealthy giants fall to their knees in the dirt to beg.

Sometimes I use one of those plastic gloves, and it takes me a couple of minutes to peel that sticky plastic off of my hands. The bread I have just touched with the germ obsession worthy of a surgeon was probably thrown in there by a snotty sixteen year old with an awful cold and brown fingers from rolling tabacco, without any gloves on, but nevermind.

That’s deeply human, we are only concerned about the things we can see with our own eyes. It doesn’t matter what happens outside of our viewpoint.

The rudest and loudest person in the store yells to herself that I am some punk guy with no manners. Why I do not know. Maybe I’ve moved her cart ten centimeters out of the way. She’s loud, bothers other shoppers and won’t shut up. If there’s anyone with no manners here, it’s her.

That’s deeply human, we only accuse others of the crime we ourselves are guilty of.

If you ever meet someone who hates gays, well, you’ve just met someone who is gay or deeply afraid that he might be gay.

Sometimes the shop is full of Asians. For some reason there is a huge Asian community in the part of town where I live.

They only come out late at night.

They clog the ailes of the shop. They discuss what to buy as though they are on a farmers’ market and not in a post-industrial money making machine called supermarket.

They buy enormous stacks of sweets, as though Asians have a gene that protects them against diabetes.

I get annoyed because they block my way, but I also love them because they are smaller than me, and for once I can feel like a towering giant.

That’s deeply human, we want to feel more important than others.

When I will spot a nicely dressed, particularly well-kempt young guy, who has a commanding voice, but at the same time is very polite and respectful, I will feel small again, because I know am badly in need of a hair cut and my shoes have holes in them and that guy probably makes more money than I do.

That’s deeply human, we are constantly comparing ourselves to others.

While I’m waiting to pay for my frugal groceries I enjoy watching the self-service registers. It’s the spot where the impatient try to scan their own groceries. They always lose more time than I do, because they don’t know the system and it jams and they have to wait for a store clerk to help them out. A computer voice tells them to wait for help and a red light switches on. I see their confusion and their frustration and my heartbeat speeds up.

That’s deeply human, we enjoy our shot of Schadenfreude.

When some customers find it impossible to scan the items, they carry them back, and decide not to buy them.

If the person who deciced to install self-service registers here would see this, he would already be looking for a mathematical formula: x number of customers carry x items back out of frustration. Does it still pay off to have less employees at the regular registers if we sell a little bit less products? Do the math!!! Fast!!! You may be losing money.

That’s deeply human, everything we set up will either generate money or run into financial trouble.

Here I am myself, calculating what the cheapest food is I can buy without developing scurvy. The cheapest fare that is still nice to consume, is dry bread, non alcoholic bear, and bananas for vitamins.

Then eventually you will always end up right behind a very old lady with a full cart who insists on digging into her purse in search for coins to pay the exact right amount, no matter how much time it takes her to do so, ignoring the fervent sighs in the queue…

That’s deeply human, you know you are truly old when your world has shrunk so much that digging for pennies has somehow become a crucially important feature of your daily life.

Once outside I ignore the homeless person who’s trying to sell Nota Bene, it’s a magazine that appears once a month and homeless people sell it for 1.40 euro and get to keep 70 cents. I used

to give them 2 euro and let them keep the change and the magazine went unread on my table. Until I did the impossible math and figured out that 2 euro gets me one liter of non-alcoholic beer, the only drink I like the taste of, if I do not mention one juice that would offend the overabundant prudes. Buying non-alcoholic beer also supports some poor schmuck somewhere and I like to think that some day I will buy shares in breweries, so am supporting my future career as a stockholder.

That’s deeply human, you know the system has got you by the balls when you stop being generous.