Cheap Candy Concerns

My previous landlord still hasn’t returned my security deposit. For reasons I won’t go into here, it’s a large security deposit, and because of a clause in the lease that seems somewhat criminal to me, he’s got thirty days from the end of the lease to return it. He has taken his time: today is the 30th. I explain this, because it’s the primary reason I was in front of my computer last night, counting down the hours until rent is due, and also why I always keep a 28-oz can of tomatoes and a package of pasta in the cupboard.

After my pasta, at about 1 AM, I decided to go to the bodega for a candy bar. This is a favorite late-night indulgence of mine, and in this instance, an exciting one because it was the first time in my new neighborhood. I was on my way out with a dollar in quarters in my pocket, but I stopped at the door, reasoning that since I wasn’t drinking tonight, I deserved a special candy bar. A big one with specified cocoa content, studded with orange peel or little pockets of caramel, or perhaps an ice cream bar. I took $1.50 more from my cocktail-shaker-turned-change-bucket.

At the bodega, they didn’t carry anything Nestle or Hershey. No Heath Bars, no Snickers, no Mentos, no York peppermint patties, and certainly no Take 5s (my favorite); all they had were fancy bars—dozens of different brands and flavors—of the type I was considering splurging on. But these fancy candy bars were starting at four dollars. OK, well I’ll just get a Ritter Sport then—nope, the Ritter Sports were $3.49. Hagan Daas ice cream bars were $3.25. I had ten quarters in my pocket and I couldn’t buy anything. I did a forth, then a fifth loop around the store to make sure I didn’t miss the Goya section for candy.

I walked out with a tube of Hit cookies, which were $1.67 and predictably unsatisfying. I’m all about paying a premium for convenience (1 AM and I was buying a treat), and I get gentrification, but if the powers that be are going to take away cheap candy, I don’t like it.