Average Jane

Something’s fishy (Or, why I should not be left alone in Whole Foods)

I don’t know what came over my, but something fishy happened at Whole Foods today.

I was in the middle of my typical path around the store (produce then fish/meat then along the dairy wall and down the cheese aisle toward salad bar) when I came upon the fish guy. The hot one. I stopped, perusing the fish selection for longer than I had initially anticipated. I was just going to browse, but he caught my attention.

“Can I get something for you?”

Um. Uh. Ummm. With no intention of actually buying fish, I had to come up with something… quick.  “Yeah! Thanks.”  I look quickly around the case and find salmon filets that looked easy. And cheap. $4.99 per piece. With not a big budget (being all unemployed and whatnot), this was the best option. 1 filet. “I’ll take a piece of the Atlantic Salmon, please.”

“Which piece?” he asks.

“Oh, the top one is fine.”

“Is it for 2 people?” This was a strange question considering the piece I wanted was actually only big enough for not-even-quite-me. Then I noticed. He was reaching for the wrong fish. The expensive fish.

“Um. It’s, uh…” What to do what to do what to do? “It’s for me. just me. But twice. I mean, two meals. Just me.”

He picked up the fish and whisked it away to the fish-wrapper before I could tell him that it was the wrong fish. Not that I had the balls to tell him that I didn’t need nor want nearly $13 worth of fish. He was hot. And Jewy looking.  I walked away, fish in hand, pondering what the fuck I was going to do with a piece of fish I don’t know how to cook. (I know it’s easy. I’ll let you know how it turns out.)

I wander the store (with fish) for about 30 minutes purchasing nothing else, but sampling the good as I walked. I got my salad, my soup, and finally decided to swing back past the fish guy and around to get an apple. He caught my eye, and I quickly turned away because I think catching eyes is weird sometimes. Especially when you think you’re being coy and invisible (nevermind the fact that I was wearing the most obtrusive green, tattered sweatshirt and baggiest addidas track pants post gym. I couldn’t have hid if I wanted to).

At the checkout line, something comes over me. I make a decision, one I may regret. “So, this is my first time trying this whole fish thing. *giggle giggle* I got it from that really cute fish guy.”

“Oh, the fish guy, eh?”

“Mmmhmm. He’s… well he’s really hot. I bet he’s all married with kids and all…” my slightly raised eyebrow implying a hopeful response.

“Actually,” she says, “I don’t think any of our fish guys are married.” Oh really.

“Yeah. Oh well. I probably should have talked to him. Man, I’m so silly.”

“Well, did you ask him how to prepare the fish?”

“No! Man! That would have been perfect! Man, if only I had given him my number. Hey – do you think you could give him my card?” Dramatic pause. “Ugh. That’d be stupid. He’d never go for it. Or what’d’ya think?”

“I’d do it for you! Go on.” OK!


I give her my card, embarrassed slightly, but slightly exhilarated. Unprompted, she said… “Ya know, I wish I had that kind of guts when I was your age. I had to wait.”

“Ma’am, I’m 27 years old. I need to start making some moves. I guess if I don’t try, I’ll never know.”

She smiled, looked at the kind of fish I bought so she could remind him of who I was, and said she’d drop it off as soon as her line was finished. I’ll never know if she does or doesn’t but it was brave and being brave takes practice and practice makes perfect. Or something.

OK, seriously someone tell me I’m not crazy before I have to give up going to Whole Foods for the rest of my life.

Update: He called. I let the call go to voicemail as I have a number of suitors I am currently trying to avoid. Major pwnage, right? Wrong. Here’s the message: “Hey, It’s Fishmonger from Whole Foods Marketing [location redacted]. I hear you need a recipe for your salmon. Call my on my cell phone. [insert number here].” What the fuck do I do? I mean – it sounds like he *actually* thinks I need a recipe for my fish… the fish I didn’t want any way but which happened to have turned out quite well. I texted him back to say I was out but I’d call him later. What if it’s the wrong guy? Or if the message got relayed wrong?! What if it got left by the phone with a note saying “customer needs recipe” and I’m a complete fool?! This is why I should become a shut in. Gah.


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  1. * k says:

    i don’t know when or where i stumbled across your blog, but i wanted to say that even though you proclaimed it the worst post ever, i thought the last one was funny. and then after reading this one, i had to tell you – you rock! that is awesome. i do hope he calls you!

    Thanks, K !!! I was so frustrated with men that I just went off. But here’s hoping the fishmonger works out!

    | Reply Posted 9 years, 3 months ago
  2. * A says:

    I LOVED this post! And I have to tell you that I think you’re incredibly awesome for doing that. I hope the checker gives him your card and he calls! And I hope you let us know! 🙂

    I’ve been known to have balls when it comes to this sort of thing. Naturally none of it ever works out, but then again it’s to your benefit or else what would I have to entertain you with?

    | Reply Posted 9 years, 3 months ago
  3. * trinity2 says:

    Hey! How did the fish turn out? That’s so great you took a chance! And I will keep my fingers crossed that it doesn’t turn out like the Starbucks guy 😉

    Well, I made 3 kinds of salmon: mustard, balsamic, and lime. We’ll see how it turns out when I cook it! I’m pairing it with a butternut squash/pear puree and some green beans. mmmmmm. And trust me, I’ll let you all know first how it all turns out!

    | Reply Posted 9 years, 3 months ago
  4. LOL. i love this post. i dont know how you maed it but ..its nice.


    | Reply Posted 9 years, 3 months ago
  5. * Maxie says:

    Call him back and tell him the truth– worst case? You have to go buy your fish somewhere else. But goodness I hope it went to the right fish guy!

    | Reply Posted 9 years, 3 months ago
  6. * Sam says:

    Dude. You’re overthinking. After the conversation you had at check out, there is no way in hell that woman gave him the card without insinuating that… oh God, I’m about to make a horrible pun that I wouldn’t be able to tell my mother. Let me start over:

    1. The woman at the register wasn’t going to half-ass it for you. After the conversation you had with her, she was either going to say “aw that’s sweet but silly” and trash the card, or give it to him all giggly-like. Even if she did end up leaving a note, the note wasn’t going to say “Person needs fish recipe for salmon.” It at the very least said “Cute girl needs recipe for salmon.” It probably said “Cute girl bought salmon as excuse to talk to you but now has no idea how to cook it. You should totes call her!!1”

    2. He gave you his cell phone number. He told you it was his cell phone number. Whole Foods has great customer service and all but that’s above and beyond the call of duty.

    Give the fishmonger a call. If you want to know whether he merely looks Jewy or actually is Jewy, ask him if he knows a recipe for gefilte fish. Then ask him out.

    | Reply Posted 9 years, 3 months ago

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