Dennis Sommers

I’ve completed an application for frequent flier benefits. Not with Delta, Allegiant, American or some other winged outfit — but with the grocery store. It only seems fair that faithful visitors and patrons should realize some perks. Rather than duplicate Delta’s Silver, Gold, Platinum and Diamond levels, maybe the grocery should consider Snackage, Vegetarian, Carnivore and Omnivore levels based on average numbers of visits per day.

Benefits of Snackage level could be one of those green, double-handled baskets with your name on it. The Vegetarian level would likewise receive a similar basket along with the blessing to help themselves to a plum, cherry or carrot as well as plucking and eating grapes from any display case. Carnivores could be allotted a full-sized buggy with a complimentary eight-piece set of serrated German steak knives. As the most frequent store visitor, the Omnivore would have a dedicated parking space and, like a Costco elite member, be the first allowed into the store each morning to avoid arm-wrestling over toilet paper, monster chickens or a head of cabbage.

Rita loves to cook. Some say this is a blessing, considering the fact I love to eat. Indeed, it’s a match made in heaven, but not in every way. You see, I’m often sent to the store for some missing, essential ingredient for a recipe, like Tahini, jicama, marjoram (it’s a spice, look it up!) or Cheese Whiz. I wouldn’t gripe if this happened just now and then. But three times in one day is like enduring travel connections through Minneapolis, Chicago and Atlanta on a holiday trip to see the in-laws (maddening enough on its own).

During the run-up to any grandchild, relative or stranger’s birthday, anniversary, wedding or announcement of pregnancy test results, assembly of multi-tiered, elaborate cakes shaped like Frozen’s Elsa, a dinosaur, mermaid, volcano or Empire State Building are underway. It’s when I’m on a first name basis with every grocery checker. I’m presently in negotiations with the grocery store manager to gain access to their customer lounge with complimentary cocktails.

Multiple trips to the store are frequently augmented by electronic communications. It’s not unusual to arrive home from the grocery to, “Did you get the XYZ?” As any shrewd husband does, I keep the shopping list in case a dispute arises about an item missing from within a mountain of bags lugged inside. With retrieval of Rita’s Dead Sea Scroll list from my pocket, I can sometimes respond, “No, It’s not here on the list.”

“I texted it to you,” she sometimes counters. The accusation triggers a defense Perry Mason would be proud of. I remind Hamilton Burger that a phone buried in a pocket doesn’t ding loud enough to be heard over the canned music, din of the floor scrubber and whir of the Powerball ticket dispenser. This justifies the requirement that my Master Chef must telephone, not text, with any addendum to provisions requisitioned. Occasionally this results in acquittal of the defendant.

Last week my minor incursion to the grocery was to procure three specifically branded chocolate bars for eventual entombment within peanut butter cookies under construction for grandchildren at the time. I returned with three chocolate bars of the specified brand. But a mortal sin was committed. I failed to notice the reverse side of a prior chocolate bar’s wrapper remnant upon which the list was written. If I had turned the list over, I would have known the chocolate required had to be of the salted/dark variety rather than milk chocolate.

I’m on the lookout now for my Frequent Food Flier membership card to arrive along with other amenities. With an Omnivore flag on my buggy (like the handicap flag on my golf cart) I’ll be sure to enjoy coffee with an apple fritter or two in the Frequent Food Flier’s lounge. A small reward for countless trips to the grocery store.

Dennis Sommers is a retired Minot orthodontist, violinist with the Minot Symphony and author of the book, “Retirement? You Can’t HANDLE the Truth!”