My Family And Other Avocados

I’m stocking produce when I notice two customers, an older woman speaking animatedly in an Eastern European language, and a younger woman by her side. They’re both picking up avocados, giving each a squeeze, and putting them back with varying levels of disappointment.

The older woman squeezes one, says something rapid-fire, and the younger starts laughing. She notices me noticing her laughing and so decides to start translating for her mother.

Younger Customer: “She says this one is harder than her ex-husband’s head.”

They move on to another. The older woman gasps, says something even faster, and shoves it back into the pile.

Younger Customer: *Still laughing.* “Uh… this one is ‘already dead inside, like my sister’s marriage.'”

I’m trying not to laugh as the older woman lifts another avocado, sniffs it, shakes her head, and mutters darkly.

Younger Customer: “This one… um… she says it is ‘pretending to be fine, but it is rotting in its soul.'”

Finally, the mother holds up one that actually seems decent. She inspects it, gives a satisfied nod, and says something triumphant.

Younger Customer: “She says, ‘We take this one home before it disappoints us too.'”

They leave with the avocado cradled like a fragile treasure, while I’m still trying not to laugh out loud in the produce aisle.