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Big Carrot and My Covert Operation

An unlikely Thursday afternoon

By Kevin Alonzo BratcherPublished 3 years ago 7 min read
5

I wouldn’t call it love at first sight. Contempt is probably a better word, although I doubt you hear that trope as frequently.

I was standing on Dave Cowens Drive outside of the Kroger headquarters for my weekly protest. My case against the excessive water in bags of baby carrots was starting to make inroads. Not only a nuisance to consumers, the water waste is an environmental concern. Rachel Carson surely smiled down on my devoted efforts.

On this particular day, another protester took up next to me with a cause of her own. While I do agree that we should, as a society, rename the grapefruit, I felt her protest was detracting from my own. The grapefruit issue should likely be taken up with the USDA, not Kroger, as the naming of fruits is not within corporate control. Either way, her presence irked me.

Her “Grapes Are Already a Fruit,” sign was clearly professionally made. Too well done for my liking, it made my display seem childlike. She must be well funded, I thought. I moved down the block and sat down for a snack.

I wasn’t even halfway through my uncrustable when the main headquarter doors opened and out walked the Kroger CEO. She only came out the front doors occasionally as she had her own parking spot in the garage beneath the building. As I scrambled to my feet and grabbed my bags of carrots, I saw her not only notice, but acknowledge the protesting intruder standing in my normal spot. After glancing at the sign and releasing an audible “hmm,” she went on about her day. Devastating. In one day, this imposter had may more progress with Kroger than I had made in the last seventeen weeks of Thursday afternoon protesting.

The uncrustable in my hand lost all appeal and I decided the rest of the day was shot. In such a frazzled state I couldn’t possibly protest to the best of my ability, and on a half empty stomach at that. I started my walk back across the bridge into Cincinnati. Oh, you didn’t know Kroger wasn’t headquartered in Cincinnati? Their true address is across the river from my great city in Covington… Kentucky. Another bait and switch on the American people.

As I crossed the Purple People Bridge, I realized it was still happy hour at O’Malley’s! Usually my devotion to the cause takes me well into the evening and I must pay full price for my Thirsty Thursday libations, but not today. I arrived about 35 minutes before I normally do and Maggie didn’t have my drinks prepared yet. Thankfully she’s quick with an opener and in only 40ish seconds I had my bucket of Little Kings in hand, onward to the back deck!

My seat, the one overlooking the city from the corner of the deck, was occupied. She must have been a newcomer - everyone knows that is my seat on Thursdays, although, to her credit I was early. Surely she wasn’t that aware, simply mistaken. I lightly tapped her shoulder and declared what everyone already knew about my seat. She turned around quickly; I must have a powerful tap.

“Apologies sir, I didn’t know you could reserve… wait, weren’t you just protesting outside of Kroger?”

I had to check my watch and make sure it was Thursday. Everything was off. First this lady shows up at my premier protesting spot and then has the nerve to sit in my seat at O’Malley’s? How did she beat me here? I left Kroger before her and finished the typically 39-minute walk in a brisk 37 minutes. Though Maggie did slow me down for about 40 seconds.

“Why are you following me?” I ask.

“Well, I was actually here first, you just tapped me on the shoulder…”

“You know what I mean! You showed up at my weekly protest, got my “Hmm,” then you sprint over the bridge to steal my seat and rub it in?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know this was your seat. And I drove here after packing up from Kroger, I did not expect to see you here. Please, take your seat, I’ll gladly move over.”

I sit down and swallow down my first Little Kings Cream Ale while I gather my thoughts. I don’t believe her, too many coincidences, but if I am to find out her true motives I’ll need to know more.

“What is your problem grapefruits?” I ask stealthily, turning to face her.

“Grapefruit,” she started “is an abomination. It is high jacking the name of something so pure and genuine to create legitimacy for an inferior citrus. Grapes and Grapefruit are nothing alike, and shouldn’t be correlated in any way.”

She made a good point, but I couldn’t let her know that. “Isn’t that a problem for the USDA?”

“Yes, and I have already contacted my local legislators, but I am also taking my case to the largest food retailers in the country - surely they have some sway in the food world. What were you protesting today?”

“The same thing I protest every Thursday, the liquid volume of water in bags of baby carrots” I said, knowing she’d be impressed.

“Ah yes, the issue that not only keeps your carrots fresh, but is also easily abated with a pin prick over the sink before dumping the carrots into their serving dish.”

Sarcastic bitch. I turned away and quickly put down my second Little King.

“Sorry, that was rude, us protestors should stick together. Let me make it up to you over dinner. Not only did I crash your protest, but I stole your seat and now I’ve insulted you. It is the least I can do.”

She was right about that. I was thinking about which 3-way I would order at Skyline when she said, “I know a great place just around the corner, let’s go!”

“I still have 3 Little Kings left…”

“Just leave them, I’ll show you the beauty of the grape. They have my favorite merlot.”

She sure is bossy, but I need answers. As we walked out of O’Malley’s Maggie gave me an uncharacteristic wink. She must not have known this was a covert operation, not a date.

We walk right past a perfectly good Chipotle to a place called “Prime Cincinnati.” Unlikely to serve Little Kings I surmised. Playing right into her hands.

“Take It Easy on Me” played as we walked in and were quickly seated in a booth.

“You know, Little River Band is criminally underrated. They shouldn’t be considered a great Australian band, but rather just a great band.”

“Yea,” I muttered. She must have done her research. To know my favorite band too? Maybe she actually worked for Kroger or even worse, big carrot.

She ordered us a bottle of merlot and an order of meatballs. I couldn’t hide my happiness with her choice of appetizer and minor grin slipped out.

“Glad to see you like meatballs, I think you’ll enjoy this wine as well. It is great for non-wine drinkers, very easy to drink and low tannin levels.”

Ignoring the gibberish, I took off my jacket and scoured the menu for a burger - no luck.

Sensing my disappointment, she said “We don’t have to eat here, let’s just enjoy this bottle of wine, the delicious meatballs, and we can walk over to Skyline afterward.”

I perked up, “Now we’re talking!”

Maybe she wasn’t so bad after all. She smiled and watched as the waiter poured her a taste of the merlot. With a flick of the wrist, she spun it around in her glass and gave it a good long smell before drinking it. Her actions didn’t even seem odd because my mind was galivanting through a sea of meatballs and chili. A combo I hadn’t even considered!

Because I am a gentleman, I drank my glass of wine while we waited for the meatballs and to my surprise it was quite smooth. It didn’t have the creamy finish of a Little Kings, but it wasn’t the bile I expected. I didn’t stop her when she poured me another glass.

The meatballs finally came and although there were only two, they were splendid. I tried to stop myself from truly enjoying the evening because I knew deep down this was still a reconnaissance mission, but it was getting harder by the second. It may have been the wine, but I had to know.

“So, you really weren’t following me?”

“Haha, no silly I wasn’t. I’m only in Cincinnati tonight, tomorrow I am heading up to Grand Rapids to protest outside of Meijer. Running into you, and stealing your chair, this was all a coincidence.”

“Some coincidence. How did you know about Skyline, and the Little River Band?”

“Know what about them? Look if you want help with your carrot protest, I’ve been pretty successful so far on my cross-country trip. Wegman’s now calls their grapefruits mega-oranges and I think I convinced Publix to shorten it to g-fruits. I can introduce you to the people you need to know, why don’t you come along with me?”

It was hard to argue with her success, but a trip across the country? I don’t know about that. I’d have to think on it and that would have to wait. I needed to close the book on this meatball-chili crossover first – to Skyline!

fact or fiction
5

About the Creator

Kevin Alonzo Bratcher

My girlfriend said I couldn't use Marcus Twainey as my pen name.

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