As a retired person I frequent a lot of grocery stores, eternally checking my clipped coupons and seeing if there are unusual items on the shelves. Mrs. Anadyr, bless her heart, has also retired from the kitchen so that I can "be in charge."
Today at the SaveMart, kind of a small competitor to Safeway, I was cruising the condiments aisle (which in deference to Geezers like me) is at a place where you do not have to bend down to see a price and the bifocals are good at reading the pricing too. Seeing that one of my favorites, Dijonnaise, a strangely good mixture of Mayo and Dijon Mustard (sounds like a French hospital location: Voulez vou et Mayo d' Dijon, oui?) was not there I trudged on, checking out the chicken breasts on sale for $1.88 a pound.
As I neared the cold case a well dressed man approached pushing a motorized pallet truck, and given my look, asked if there was anything he could help with. I mentioned Dijonnaise, which to his credit he had never heard of and admitted such. He offered to check the SaveMart product listing, telling me that the Carmel Store was unique in that it carried a lot of luxury items, given the upper crust in which we live. He never smiled as he said that; I felt rich too.
He ducked in the back and came out with the news that Dijonnaise could be ordered, that he'd give me a call when it was in, and that he hoped I could wait a few days. He also mentioned that service to the customers is his job, his only job that matters. I got his name; that he was the store manager, and he promised to call with the dope on the condiment order.
As I left the store I was taken again back to the days when this kind of service was not exceptional but expected, and gotten. Alas, these days that's hardly the case. It must be my fault as well, because I tend to allow ignorance and insolence to be a part of many transactions.
So, if you want Dijonnaise, as I do, stop at the Carmel SaveMart and tell Dirk, the Manager, I said hello. He'll appreciate it.