No, those two things don't actually go together, but I liked them that way, so...
The first part comes from listening to GF on the phone ordering a gift for her sister's birthday. Sister still lives in a small MN town, so GF was calling a local place to order something and have it delivered on the appropriate day. From my end, I could hear GF start to give credit card info and then stop...and then give our address. It turns out they don't take credit cards. They'll send her a bill and she'll mail them a check. (That'll all happen about a week after they've delivered merchandise.) Good luck asking for that in my neck of the woods.
The second part comes from a visit to a supermarket. Supermarkets in Brooklyn are...less than super. So, I get excited when we're in the car and happen to stop at one of those giant suburban places with just a zillion options on everything. But, again, they do things differently. While at the deli counter, the nice lady serving me could only remember one type of meat to slice at a time. Each time I thought she'd be bringing me that installment (1/2 lb of black forest ham), she'd actually be coming over to show me the first slice and ask if it was the right thickness. It took more than a 1/2 hour to get four varieties.
Then we went to the seafood section. They had some crab legs that were as big as I am. To say I was intimidated would be an understatement. I went for the lobsters. I know what to do with those. Now I've mentioned before that I can boil a lobster, but I can't do that knife through the brain thing to kill them if you want to cook them on the grill. It's not that I'm squeamish about it, I'm just not competent. I'm sure the knife would slip on the shell; I'd cut off a finger, and the poor lobster would escape, but with permanent brain damage. I can't have that on my conscious.
So I asked Mr. Seafood Guy to kill them for me. He made a face like a five-year-old girl being offered asparagus ice cream and said, "Ewww, I could never do that." So, I asked if there was anyone else around who could do it. He asked the guy from the deli counter, who responded, "I'd never do that...it's just inhumane." (This from a guy who slice cow and pig all day.) Finally I said give them to me live, I'd boil them instead. So he bags them and says, "Have a blessed day." (No, offense anyone, but I don't need blessings from Supermarket Seafood, Scared of Lobsters Guy.)
Eventually, we get to the checkout counter. The cashier, an aged hippy if I ever saw one, went on and on about, "The lobsters want to walk home. I'm gonna buy me a couple some day and take them to the beach and just watch them walk back into the ocean. Yeah, that's what I'd do."
So, now, this is my favorite store. Where else can I go and buy something and have practically everyone who works in the store tell me how horrible I am for buying their products.