After trekking to sundry Savers stores, Julie and I proved to be gluttons for punishment as we then ventured into a Building 19 in Natick. Sorry. Make that Building 19 1/5. For some peculiar reason this particular store is labeled as such.
Our goal for the day, besides shopping at Savers and Trader Joe’s, was to peruse the remnants of a ski sale that Building 19 (1/5) has had since Thanksgiving. Given that so much time had passed since Turkey Day, we were quite certain that only slim pickings were to be had and the purchase of optimal equipment remained nothing but a pipe dream. Alas, our hunches proved correct as only sparse, decrepit skis greeted our eyes, all heaped into a crumbling bin, with surfaces scarred and chipped, and ski poles just as marred.
Disappointed in our search for cross-country skis, we nevertheless set out to see what other glorious finds were to be had in this fabulous emporium. (Just in case you were slightly unsure, the preceding sentence was slathered in sarcasm.) Julie went off to look at racks of questionable apparel and I ambled about, peering at whatever crossed my fancy.
For those unfamiliar with a Building 19, it is a warehouse-sized, steeply discounted store, filled with an abundance of gewgaws and gizmos, a vast chaotic array of merchandise, from rugs, to books (mostly from authors you’ve never heard of), to pots and pans, greeting cards, mattresses, stemware and–my personal favorite–the food stuffs.
Yes, this last one is a wonder to behold. Mostly unheard of brands litter the dusty shelves, and one has to marvel at the contents of these products. ‘Mrs.Leeper’s Beef Stroganoff’, found no less than in a box! Buddha forbid your poor tastebuds after sampling such fare! ‘Could…could there actually be meat inside?’, you might inquire.
Or smudged jars filled with cloudy, gelatinous fish, and ancient-looking olives encased in dense, brackish liquid. Or perhaps you’d like to dine on dented and stained Table Talk pies, you know, those ubiquitous mini pies that contain 80 grams of fat and 700 calories. How about crumpled boxes of Cheez-its or trampled Ritz crackers? Dust-laden and dented, plumped cans with peeled labels, all beckon you with their bizarre names and byproducts.
Yes, there’s something for everyone here, no matter how terrible your taste may be. And, they have free coffee! You can’t miss it. It’s located right near the bathrooms, under a dim and dusty incandescent bulb.
Such a deal, only at Building 19. And 1/5.
Copyright, Paul Grignon, 2012, All Rights Reserved.