It's 3:30 a.m. on Friday night as you stumble into Fresh Grocer to grab some supplies: raspberry fruit spread jam (not jelly); Skippy Peanut butter (smooth, of course); Martin's potato bread; skim milk (not the preferred 2% for fear of the roommate's wrath). Yes, the perfect compilation for a late night feast. But this supermarket offers us so much more than these toothsome wonders and it pains me to say that I believe the Fresh Grocer is being taken for granted.
Beneath that steel architectural veil lies the true heart of the Penn community. Who among us hasn't strolled late night into FroGro only to run into their lab partner from freshman bio? You obviously haven't seen this high rise-dweller since ribosome was programmed into your auto-text, yet you both clearly know each other. Is a friendly smile enough? Is it better to make a sharp left at the cheeses and hope the geek never saw you? As I like to say: only at FroGro.
We also mustn't take the Fresh Grocer staff for granted - they too offer us endless hours of care and devotion. Past that bio nerd and safely at the deli meat counter, you ask for some turkey. After ordering you think, "How could it take so long to cut up some turkey? Is this guy stoned? Has it even been a long time? Am I stoned? And why does this turkey look suspiciously like roast beef?" No matter - you're in Fresh Grocer, the whole campus is coming, and you're feeling groovy.
And what to thank for this glide in your stride, this dip in your hip? It must be the ill tunes Fresh Grocer is always spinning. When I first got to Penn I thought DJ Marbar and DJ Smoke's knew what they were doing. Boy, was I wrong. DJ FroGro is the real genius. No joke. If you haven't tuned in yet, you are in for a treat. I don't use the phrase "genius" lightly, and often only in order to show that someone is especially NOT a genius. But for DJ FroGro, the title "genius" may not even be enough. Got an itch for Seal? That's right. He's playing. You didn't even know you wanted it, yet after one note, you can't live without it.
So, my fellow food shoppers, next time you approach the conveyor belt at the checkout counter, take a second to think about the importance of this establishment in uniting the Penn community. As you reach for the plastic divider to place between your groceries and the kid's in front of you, think to yourself, "What's the deal with this divider? Are your groceries forbidden from associating with his? Is the two-foot stretch where his groceries end and yours begin not a clear enough indicator to the lovely woman at the register?"
Instead of grabbing the plastic barrier that holds us apart, I recommend that you embrace that kid's hand and hold it to your bosom. Pull him close, and tell him. "Fresh Grocer IS the great equalizer, and I love you"
