Acrylic on paper, 7" x 5".
Safeway
I went in looking for breakfast this morning. I found oatmeal but couldn’t find soymilk.
The aisles were full of people working. I braved my social anxiety and asked a petite girl with an inventory gun. She said, “I don’t work here!” in her frightened Slavic accent. I asked a fast-walking guy in a blue poly shirt and tie, but he didn’t work there either. I found no employees except the too-busy baker, butcher and cashier.
The PA system hard-pitched standard groceries, trying to make them sound sexy and more expensive. I had to get out of there! I surrendered to an over-priced pint of cow’s milk.
It wasn’t even 8 AM yet, and Safeway clipped me for 10 bucks. How can I redeem this feeling of being lab-ratted on the third rail of a corporate conveyor belt? I know: I’ll paint the milk carton!
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