The Ortanique Dilemma

“Don’t touch that! It’s dirty!” yelled the mother at her six year old daughter.

Wegmans, grocery ultra-market, was pulsating. Humans were grabbing ritual items in a methodical manner. Eyes darted around and made Jeremy extremely paranoid. Jeremy was extremely high on marijuana and this did not help matters. Jeremy had a vague plan of “getting something to eat” at the Wegmans.

Jeremy entered the produce section and began to look busy among busy humans so as not to stand out. Jeremy wasn’t planning on getting produce but panicked and became overwhelmed by products and people. He found himself looking at oranges and contemplating the different varietals in his head: Valencia. Clementine. Minneola. Tangerines. Ortanique. Navel. Wait a second… Ortanique? Jeremy was taken aback by the Ortanique citrus varietal. He read the description very quietly to himself:

“Ortanique… A blend of an orange, tangerine, and unique fruit. Huh?”

Jeremy reached for an Ortanique and began examining it. During the examination an elderly woman with a mini shopping cart plowed through the aisle he was in and the mini-cart brushed up against his back. Before he could adequately respond, however, the woman continued on without apologizing for her aggressive shop-cartery.

Jeremy returned to his analysis of the Ortanique. Jeremy hated seeds and hoped the Ortanique didn’t have any. He didn’t know if the Ortanique was going to be another botched orange varietal purchase.

A woman of childbearing age, possibly a current mother of young, began examining oranges in close proximity to Jeremy. She shot a quick glance at Jeremy and this made him uncomfortable. She probably wants me to vacate, Jeremy thought.

Jeremy departed with a single Ortanique and the woman moved into where he was standing. Jeremy was correct in his assumption that she did, in fact, want him to vacate the Ortanique region of the orange section. The orange section was all hers now.

Jeremy took the Ortanique to the “7 items or less” line. The man in front of him had dozens of items (NOT seven or less) including untagged produce that the cashier would have to determine the PLU# and weigh the item (a task for the consumer to carry out in the produce section NOT the busy cashier). The man was dressed in a suit and frequently checked his phone. He seemed irritable even though he was in the wrong.

Jeremy waited with his Ortanique and didn’t want to look at the man. Jeremy was forced to view the magazines which flanked him on both sides instead. The magazine covers were mostly women staring at him. Some held food dishes. Some held their breasts. All of them had their eyes locked in on Jeremy. Jeremy got a little angry with these magazine women. Then he got paranoid because he was angry at the magazine women. Lastly, he chuckled thinking about the magazine-women situation in general.

At last he was at the register getting “checked out.” The young female cashier was full of energy:

“Did you find everything ok?”

“Yeah…”

Jeremy wanted to say something more and felt awkward with the increasing silence. He didn’t like the idea of this cashier working for him. It didn’t seem right. The transaction was completed regardless and Jeremy found himself back in his automobile, alone with the Ortanique.

He peeled open the Ortanique and broke off a slice. To Jeremy’s dismay the Ortanique had seeds. In addition to the seeds, this particular Ortanique didn’t taste very good. It was only mildly sweet and was somewhat dry. Jeremy threw the Ortanique remains out of his window and sighed.