34 Registers

The grocery store Stephen and I worked at when we were first married had seven (I think) registers. We averaged three open at one time.
This Market Basket has 34 (yes, I said 34) registers. Clay and I stopped to take this picture for those of you whom are ruralites or suburbanites who quake at the thought of this large of a store.

Yes, they run all the registers at the same time on the weekends. And yep, each register gets its own bagger. And even more yep: there are still lines.

This urban shopping experience is downright stressful. We have become expert shoppers, able to dodge the elderly, spare the young children on foot, heed the young in our own carts, maneuver around the glass bottle displays, turn the cart on a dime, avoid unneeded isles, spare the deli-line at all costs, prepare diagrammed shopping lists that caters to the store's layout, and even check ingredients in the mayhem.

On a humorous note: Sim decided to explore the anatomy of a chicken's eggs this week while we were in a grocery store. In a matter of seconds, there were literally eggs in my cart, eggs on the floor, eggs in the diaper bag, and two eggs that Sim could reach- which he instantaneously smashed his hand into. I had Clay wrapped on my front (Sim was in the cart's seat) and I am grateful for the kind Greek woman that helped me. Wipes came in handy for than just dipes.

She said (in a deep Greek accent) "You have boys! NICE boys! Congratulations!." She just may have pinched a cheek or two.

-abby