Influencing, Part Three

Weeks ago, you might remember, I rolled out the idea of becoming a Senior Influencer. The webosphere is spilling over the brim with influencers: Make up influencers, style influencers, and DJ influencers who recognize the music and musicians of the day. I recognize none.

My notion was to create a blog for people over the age of 40. Though probably more likely 50. Oh, who am I kidding, I'd be aiming at old geezers like myself who refuse to pay attention to calendars, AARP solicitations, or ads for funeral homes. 

So many people want to sell me a 6 foot by 3 foot plot of land which I would own for eternity. 

Or at least until MAGA takes over the country and Barron steamrolls over my resting place for a new Trump-branded golf course.

But you just can't start a senior influencing blog and expect retailers and makers of fine swim gear, kitchen cutlery and high resolution flatscreen TVs, to shower you with samples. It takes time and practice to build up an audience for that kind of thing. 

All of which brings us to my third installment in senior influencing.

Up until recently, I had been doing my grocery shopping, for one single man, at the local Pavilions. I like Pavilions. The aisles are wide, the selection is robust, and the cashiers are a salty bunch given to playful checkout banter. 

And of course, when the season is upon us, they have wonderful peaches. 

But everytime I leave Pavilions, I leave with less than $300-$400 in my bank account. That's not insubstantial. Particularly now that I have been laid off and can officially claim the title of America's Newest and Oldest Freelance Copywriter. That's when Ms. Muse suggested I try my food gathering activities at the local Trader Joes.

Obviously I had heard of TJ's before. And have always liked their crunchy quirkiness. I had just never thought of doing my grocery run there because they seem small and don't carry the brand name toilet paper and Quaker Oats Cheesy Rice Crisps that I favor. 

Nevertheless, I decided to give my local Trader Joes, on the other side of downtown Culver City, a run for the money. Or, as the case may be, my money.

Can't say I'm a fan of the TJ crowded parking lot. Nor the crowded aisles. Nor the undersized red shopping carts, which barely had enough room for my bottle of Bulleit Rye, Peroni Lager Beer and top shelf Cabernet Sauvignon. 

But I am a definite fan of the savings I accrued. It was literally 33% less than what I had been spending. Moreover I was able to load up on thick Atlantic Salmon, the fatty kind with the artificial coloring which doesn't bother me one bit. And fruit, I eat a ton of fruit. And vegetables, which I am getting newly acquainted with.

Additionally, I was able to able to engage with a new crop of cashiers. Less salty than the veteran cashiers at Pavilions, but in some ways more interesting. Because, gauging from the ear gauges, piercings and multicolor hair, I was able to accurately predict their political dispositions. So any jokes about our former president would surely be appreciated. And in case, you hadn't noticed I like to crack wise on the TFG.

One word of caution. 

Satisfied with my savings, I errantly made an impulse buy and picked up a box of TJ-branded chewing gum before cashing out. 

Turned out the gum looked like this...

 And I'm here to tell you, the little wood dowels would've probably tasted better.