6. Find Your Nemesis at Your Local Monoprix

I go to Monoprix almost every day. The fluorescent lights, the uniform aisles, the bad puns on the store-brand items: I know this is the exact opposite of the bustling, vibrant, cacophonous organ that is the French marketplace seen in Zola’s The Belly of Paris. But there I am, without fail.

My phone tells me that I have been to my local store 639 times since July 2020. At this point, most of my wardrobe comes from Monoprix, as does most of my food, household items, and toiletries. I just checked the tag of my underwear — yep, Monoprix.

Despite this unwavering (albeit lazily so) loyalty, the man who works in the yogurt section truly despises me. Our beef started two years ago, when I was shopping and disassociating with my headphones in. I was in his way and didn’t hear him. When I realized my mistake, I overcorrected-slash-groveled, as I am wont to do in French: Ah, excusez-moi! Je suis vraiment désolé! Pardon! Excusez-moi!

He gave me a look that said he wished the guillotine was still in use.