I arrive at Costco as soon as they open. Because bananas figure prominently at the top of my list, I immediately head to the produce section. With great trepidation, I cautiously round the corner as the yellow fruit comes into view. Surprisingly, no one is loitering in front of the bananas. With a full and happy heart, I pick up speed as the wheels on my grocery cart squeal with delight.

I’m internally celebrating when I see her, moving at a determined pace towards the bananas. Our eyes meet. We both begin to run. She is much older and slower. But she is cartless. Without the unwanted drag of an unwieldy shopping cart, she has an advantage, beating me by mere seconds.

Sliding to a stop in front of the bins, she gives me the stink eye and proceeds to get busy with the bananas. Knowing what is about to happen, I shield my eyes from the impending carnage and begin repeating an encouraging mantra. “Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look…”

I looked.

She was already elbow deep in the bins, grabbing and squeezing every bunch that touched her grubby, freshly manicured hands. An unholy amount of bangle bracelets clanked in dissent as she continued to defile the bananas. With a horrified expression, I stared incredulously in her direction, thinking of ways to rid the world of such a nuisance. Attempting to embarrass her, I made several snide comments about proper etiquette, poor hygiene, and lack of social decorum.

It was too late.

Her eyes had glazed over. She was fully engrossed in the practice of banana fondling. I was no match for the tyrannical actions of a glassy-eyed woman who clearly has banana issues. There’s no conceivable reason to squeeze bananas as the rule of determining ripeness is simple: If they’re green, they’re not ripe. If they’re yellow, they’re ripe. If they’re black, you’re going to be making banana bread.

As I retched with revulsion, I conceded defeat. She may have won this round of the banana battle. She may have prevented me from having beneficial nutrients, causing my legs to cramp from lack of potassium. But what she hasn’t done is quashed my ability to improvise. With a satisfied smirk plastered on my face, I turn on my heels and head down an unpopulated produce aisle, determined to find something equally as nutritious.

I’m internally celebrating when I see him, moving at a determined pace toward the kiwis…