I'm a Ghetto Girl at Grab Bag

There’s little convenience store on the corner of Vic & Park. It’s a pretty sketchy lookin’ place that I never planned on ever buying anything from ever since I seen it. It’s got bars on the windows, and from the outside looking in, it looks like a prison cell that shouldn’t be opened. I see a lot of old men with rotting teeth and bushy beards that ride bicycles with baskets on the front walk in and out throughout the day (or at least whenever I drive by en route home). I always drove by with huge eyes, trying to pretend I never noticed the people smoking cigarettes outside the store staring at me. I was sure they were sass talking me – or plotting my death – because it seemed like a logical explanation.

I wished I wasn’t so stereotypical.

One night, some months back now, I was baking and I had noticed my milk was expired – at a crucial stage at whatever I was baking (because all real bakers know that there is such a stage). I was trying to think of a place closer than Wal Mart or Superstore, which was going to take too much time not only driving there, but also waiting in line and driving back. Such a crisis, right?

Anyway. That’s when I thought of that red little convenience store. Despite every instinct I had to avoid the ghetto looking place at all costs, I went there anyway. It’s a quick drive – not even five minutes and I thought I’d treat it like a mission: go in, avoid eye contact, get milk, pay $400 (because everybody knows that convenience stores charge ridiculously) and leave. Easy.

What I didn’t expect to was to be welcomed there. The workers had talked to me as if I was their long lost relative visiting for the first time – only it was in ghetto style. It was both surprising and awesome. And they’ll compliment you in every way possible (and sincerely too). I’ve been reminded time and time again it’s a safe place to be and if I ever had an issue, just let em know and it will be dealt with immediately.

I now make an effort to do the majority of my shopping there – groceries and all. I usually have a pretty good conversation with Krazy too (it’s her name – it’s short for Krazy Kim… just so you know. She’ll give you good deals too. She’s awesome.)

The best part of it all?

Milk isn’t $400.