The Costas of doing business

A man slowly fills his shopping cart with cereal boxes. Bob Costas and Bob Uecker watch from a safe distance, broadcasting for reasons that aren’t exactly clear. 

 

Bob:     Welcome to the supermarket. Ya know, they say, “breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” But were they talking about cereal, a serial staple of the morning meal, when the phrase was first coined? I don’t think so. Coins are barely coined anymore, as we steady our clammy palms for the cold digital embrace of a cashless society. Those are empty calories, Bob. Milk is good for your bones; any osteopath would surely attest. I’m not here to affirm convention, then again, neither is he. He’s here to feed himself, or his family. He’s alone in the wilderness, or in this case, the cereal aisle. 

 

Ueck:   I see his wife now. Or is that my wife? 

 

Bob:     This general tableau really takes me back. To my childhood, yes, but elsewhere too. To a time when man was kind, and mankind was young. They hunted, they gathered, they didn’t worry about choosing paper or plastic. They came from caves. They painted with the materials they could find. The walls were their television. There were men like us, Ron, hiding from predators, in need of marrow and good cheer. 

 

Ueck:   He can’t seem to push his damn cart in a straight line. Four good wheels, I’ve seen it.

 

Bob:     Food is up there with shelter as one of our basic needs. But as you can see, it’s not hard to obtain. You fill your cart, grab your credit card, and that’s that. There’s no romance to the express checkout. There was once, when the stakes were a good deal higher. 

 

Ueck:   He likes pickles. Look at the size of that jar. I once won a pickle the size of a small animal. Milwaukee State Fair 1968. I was recently retired, lost, and hadn’t yet discovered broadcasting. That pickle lasted three years, which led seamlessly into becoming the voice of the Brewers.  

 

Bob:     And with that, he pays. No receipts, no evidence, no more drama. 

The man opens his trunk, preparing to load his groceries.

Man:   Who are you talking to?