Lettuce Story

Remember Bob Probert? Maybe the toughest SOB ever to lace up a pair of Bauers. Goon of goons, the self-proclaimed heavyweight champ of hockey. But this guy had nothing on the ladies at my local supermarket over at the Salad Bar.

I felt like a salad for lunch - and I work near home. So I went to my local market, where the greens are a known quantity. I'm pretty simple with a salad; some lettuce (except iceberg), some tomatoes, maybe a little pasta florentine and away I go. Grab my plastic container, work the tongs and voila! - lunch.

Now, the salad bar is a two-sided extravaganza, with a little alcove area at the end for your fruit-based components. Plenty of room for the nimble to load up and move on. Nope.

I get there during lunchtime and head straight to the SB. And when I get there, I spy two women descending on this island of earthy goodness - one to a side. And then it begins. Neither woman will allow me the courtesy of laying down a bed of greens on my canvas of plastic. They hunch over the lettuce areas like vultures. And I swear, one of them was picking up individual romaine bits piece by piece, examining them like a forensic pathologist and placing the bits that passed muster into her tub. It was maddening. The best part was the evil glances they kept giving me while I waited. And since I was growing a bit impatient, I decided to make a move in to the sway. And that's when individual-piece-of-lettuce lady threw the block, almost a hip check really, so I could not enter the veggie zone. Wow. But since I was raised a gentleman, I could not punch either lady in the side of the head like I so desperately wanted.

My saving grace was they saw some poor schmo looking to buy some clams or a piece of Chilean Sea Bass (which is neither from Chile or a bass), and looked to give him a hard time.

And after some time, I was able to fill my container with my choice of farm-fresh produce and go on my way. Rough.

Maybe I should have gone for a slice instead.