For the short term that I lived alone in college, I had myself a Costco membership. My days went something like this: skip breakfast, go to class, head to Costco, consume all possible samples for lunch, mosey home and visit friends with families at an hour when they were always coincidentally eating dinner. In my fridge was a cube of butter (some staples are just that necessary) and in my freezer, a pint of ice cream (y'know, for random guests on a Saturday night).
We've just returned from a shopping trip to PriceMart, Costco's equivalent here on the island. Had I attended college here, I might have starved. Apparently the training manual for Caribbean Sample Ladies (yes, all female here) reads differently than in the States. All the tables are set up the same, the uniforms with hairnets, little garbage cans carefully placed next to them. There seems to be, however, a surprising lack of samples. The first Sample-Lady we passed by was leaning her elbows on the sample table, chewing her nails next to four large green canisters of Parmesan Cheese. That's it. Curious. We saw more. Sample-Lady after Sample-Lady staring off into the distance while standing next to a variety of random products gathering dust on their tables. Okay.
Towards the end of our shopping adventure, we actually found a diamond in the rough: Sample Lady with actual samples! Upon closer inspection, however, my appetite was curbed. Up for grabs were small, white crackers with a generous helping of mayonnaise on top.
At least we can still get ginormous stock piles of toilet paper all in one go.