I went into enemy territory last night after work, but once inside I went right to business. I didn't mess around. I knew what I wanted and I was going to get that bread regardless of whatever and whoever stood in my way.
The crowds at Walmart weren't about to stop me. I just wanted a cheap loaf, and if it that meant only a buck that was just fine with me. I'd even settle for the white stuff to save a few dimes.
Down the bread aisle there on the shelf was a new item, an obvious concession to the hard times in which we're now living, a one pound loaf of bread for just .75. That's right, I said seventy-five cents, or didn't that register? The regular cheapo bread had gone up, from about a dollar to $1.64, but I wasn't having none of it, even if it was a half-pound heavier.
I went searching next for a sandwich filling, and the potted meat at 38 cents a can drew me in like a magnet. That was it, I now had my dinner. With continued depression pricing like that, it just might be possible to avoid the bread lines.