The 7 Worst People at the Farmers’ Market
In theory, the farmers’ market sounds like a lovely place to spend your Sunday morning.
And it should be. It could be. Sometimes it is. It’s a great opportunity to meet the hard-working people who grow your food, and if you have a lot of thoughts about tomatoes, there’s nowhere else you should be.
That said, it would be difficult to find a more annoying collection of customers. Here are the worst of the worst, coming soon to a farmers’ market near you.
Hagglers and Bargain Hunters
Friends, this is the Headhouse Farmers’ Market. You knew that goddamn well heading in. The woman who grew that basil plant has a Ph.D. in Herbology from Hogwarts. Every night, she whispered sweet nothings to its tiny tendrils, and every morning she gently awakened it with a ukulele serenade. She has $150k in student loans, and little more than glorified garnishes to show for it. Do not ask her to cut you a deal. Do not even think about it. I am serious — today is not the day I watch her soul pack its bags. Not here, not now.
The Instagram Paparazzo
If a woman spends her Sunday morning filling a hand-woven straw tote with organic produce and nobody “likes” it, do my screams make a sound? Lady, those heirloom squash don’t need a glamour shot. They need a trip to the dermatologist — and you need to stop blocking the croissants.
The French Bulldog Wrangler
As a woman who owns a dog stroller, I sympathize with a lot of strange pet-owner behavior. But before you parade your three Frenchies through the cramped, crowded stalls, let me ask you this:
- Did your dogs ask to go to the farmers’ market this morning?
- Are they cool with getting their paws stepped on?
- Can they resist peeing on a palette of blueberries?
- Did they promise not to bite any little hands?
- Even if those little hands were carrying cheese samples?
- Wow, really?
If you answered yes to all of the above, then fine, bring your four-legged friends along. But just so you know, whatever you’re walking on those leashes aren’t dogs.
The Wannabe Farmer
Wearing overalls is bad. Wearing overalls without a shirt is worse. But wearing overalls while barefoot is simply unforgivable. I mean, good God son, this is Philadelphia — where are your shoes? WHERE ARE YOUR SHOES?
The Entitled Corn Husker
People willing to pay $8 for a quart of misshapen potatoes frequently feel entitled to the best — and this always makes them assholes. So as you begin to husk your corn while the line is three-deep, searching for only the most perfect and precious pieces, I close my eyes and remember the Greenland shark. A massive sub-Arctic species, the Greenland shark spends 200 years roaming around in the dark beneath 10 feet of polar ice, oblivious to the world above, its only companion a parasite. Welcome to my happy place.
The Double-Wide Stroller Moms
Chances are, I like your kids. Your kids are great. Someday they will grow up to be adult humans who husk their corn barefoot, but for now, they’re delightful little creatures. However, a farmer’s market in the city simply doesn’t accommodate their luxury two-seat cruiser. You know where does? The secret, deserted Super Fresh off Columbus Boulevard. The place is a hundred million square feet of wonder and joy. They have your organic kale, but they also have Totino’s Pizza Rolls and the latest Jack Reacher book at 50 percent off, if that’s your deal. It’s very much my deal. Follow me into the light, mama.
The Snobby Produce Hypocrite
You deserve to know what you’re putting in your body. I’m impressed (and a little jealous) that you care so much. But when you take a swig of Diet Coke after lecturing a fourth-generation farmer on how to best fertilize his crops, know this: You are awful, and I’m pretty sure Frenchie pee isn’t certified organic.
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