Thursday, December 09, 2010

Meijer and the season soundtrack

here's the thing, as limiting and against modern philosophy as it sounds, I am, by nature... loyal.

sigh. it feels really good to get that out.

sure, I'll  flirt with the young, the bold and sometimes even the unfamiliar--I'm only human after all.

but all of my numerous/forbidden flirtatious trysts with Whole Foods, Papa Joe's and Plum Market have never made me even consider a divorce from my one and only Meijer.

like most humans, I am flawed-- so flawed. I often fall into the trap of criticizing the one I love most; I point out the minuscule faults, I focus on the annoyances, I harp on the freaking lack of blankety-blank common sense to stock up on parchment paper during the holiday season!

but, the minute someone else bags (no pun intended) on my local Meijer... You. Go. Down.

Thanksgiving week is, at best, one big smeary blur for me. I'm busy helping my kids survive the one zealous teacher forcing a last insane project before the break, shopping for Thanksgiving, organizing my Black Friday/BlackOps event, and this year, prepping for my brother's visit. so, I'm a bit foggy as to the precise date of the crime against Meijer and by extension--against me.

My brother was near the pharmacy/toiletries area while me and my son, walked toward the u-scans when I heard the following: mwahm! mwahm! mwahm! (security/metal detector thingy going off) then, "Sir! Sir! Siiiirrr!"

I knew that voice.

for twelve years that voice has monotone-ly welcomed me to Meijer then insincerely thanked me as I exited Meijer. greeter lady was in trouble. my heretofore (used that word again!) unknown honed Spidey-skills blocked all else out, and my eyes zeroed in on the victim.

greeter lady was in the air-lock, gallantly grasping a cart that Mr. Thin-In-A-Sinister-Way was desperately trying to push through the outer airlock door. I realized people were passing by them in the airlock, ignoring her looping incoherent pleas of help, (in the form of) "Sir! Sir! Siiiirrr!"

I was blocked by the cart corral and low shelving, I couldn't get to her in time. I mentally fretted, "for the love of Meijer humanity, where is Pat when I need shim?!" Out of the corner of my eye I saw my 6'2" brother, who works out as entertainment, walk within eight feet of the not-quite-commenced horror.

unable to wrest my eyes from the scene, I pointed and shouted, "go help her!" that's when Mr. TIASW started throwing elbows, pulling GL's hands from the cart, and quite nearly made his escape--all the while GL's high pitched cries of "Sir!" failed to be interpreted as "Help me, you gawking schmucks!"

I couldn't believe it. elderly Greeter Lady, who I like to think I have a meaningful shallow relationship with, is being manhandled by a lowlife!

my brother turned to where I was pointing, but didn't understand what was going on, mostly due to the wall of Meijer associates just watching their comrade. I shouted, this time in my all caps voice, "GO HELP HER, HE'S GETTING AWAY!" My brother advanced, the wall of Meijer Associates jumped, and in that moment, Mr. TIASW gave up the fight and stormed out of the airlock, without his cart.

pretty sure my trained Mom-Is-Pissed-Beyond-Belief voice played a part in his decision to flee. yep, pretty sure.

GL wobbly pushed the cart through the metal detectors, clearly shaken and suffering from shock. although, she managed to vary her vocabulary from "Sir!" to "whoa, whoa, wo-hoa!" repeated over and over and over, as she opened the green bin inside the cart filled with unpurchased electronic items.

I managed to make my purchases and headed for the parking lot, totally pumped to meet up with Mr. TIASW (who, if you're reading this, I've memorized your rat-like face) to put some ching-chang-chung moves on him and whisper in my best Dirty Harry, "Go ahead, mess with my Meijer."

No such luck, instead I realized I was humming the tune that had been playing in my head, the soundtrack, if you will, of the whole scuffle: "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas, ev'rywhere you go."

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Meijer and the hiatus

you may have noticed that I haven't posted anything for awhile. it isn't laziness--in this case--I haven't posted because I have been actively engaged in 'research.'

I've been purposely shopping at Kroger to see if all the craziness heretofore (been dyin' to use that word) recorded was unique to Meijer or if grocery stores the world over are just as nutty. Here's what I discovered...

nope. it's just Meijer.

I tried every stunt research tool in the book while shopping Kroger: varied the days/times I went (9:05am instead of 9:00am), varied my shopping list to put me in unusual aisles (lemon curd & gluten-free), bantered with the locals (recipe-swappers) I even spoke to the Kroger employees (helpful, informative)! a blatant 'no-no' at Meijer.

nothin'. nada. zip. zilch.

from management to shopper--completely, unequivocally, normal.

apparently, one of the two reasons the earth has not spun out of control is because 1. the laws of astrophysics won't allow it and 2. crazies and non-crazies have different grocery stores.

so the result of my research? my heart and cracked mind belong to: Meijer the superstore. 

Saturday, May 08, 2010

Meijer and the dogocide moment

it's not as if I'm some u-scan etiquette know-it-all/expert...full-time.

regardless, I'm almost sure that using the u-scan to purchase the pre-assembled floor model barbeque grill, along with propane tank just isn't cricket. especially when u-scan lackey has to call in reinforcements to lift the behemoth for the u-scan to read the UPC. 

sigh, no--they didn't think to pull the UPC sticker off. Meijer, remember?

perhaps the whole barbeque scene wouldn't have been so annoying if the other three u-scans were available, alas...

u-scan #2 was having a computer temper tantrum, monitor flashing, speaker screaming (can a computer scream?) 'I do not want to bag this item! I do not want to bag this item!'

#3 was being (ab)used by a first timer: first time using u-scan, first time using a touch screen, first time using a credit card, first time reading and breathing at the same time, etc.

#4 was confounded by a Meijer associate/customer trying to use their Meijer discount card, WIC card, senior citizen discount, and pay with their daughter's credit card. 

I admit it, after about six minutes of standing in line, the 40 pound bag of dog food in my cart suddenly seemed unimportant. probing questions filled my mind, like; "does the dog really need to eat? can't I just build a trough and feed him scraps from the table? don't most third world populations eat dog? how much would a taxidermist charge me to immortalize my bulldog? less than the 40 pound bag of food?" 

just as my grip tightened on the cart handle to swerve out of line, a u-scan opened up, the dog food scanned the first time, and within seconds my #3 u-scan was thanking me for shopping at Meijer. 

my dog eats well...for at least one more month. 

we'll see how next month goes.

Tuesday, February 02, 2010

Meijer and the face

here's the thing...I have "one of those faces."

you know the one, the face that looks like so many other faces, that all too often, you think you know me.

yep, that's me. you've politely waved to me as our cars pass, thinking I'm a neighbor down the street. you've waved at me with giddy vigor across the mall parking lot, thinking I'm your long lost high school sweetheart not responding to your annoying facebook or requests. perhaps--if in 1988 you were summering in Colorado--you've even asked for my autograph. 

don't laugh!

one summer, I worked at a Colorado ski resort to earn money for the next semester of college. often, people would approach me all smiles, paper and pen in hand, and ask for my autograph. they chatted about Ted Danson, then graciously complimented me by saying I was much more attractive (and less annoying) than Shelley Long. experience taught me that denying the identity would only make the autograph seeker more persuasive; I learned to promptly sign "Kirstie Alley," smile and walk on. (I'm so shallow--I'm secretly thrilled that I am no longer mistaken for the current Kirstie Alley.)

other than ruining my dream of being an undercover CIA operative, it's not that bad being "one of those faces," I've learned to adapt.

my daughter and I were whizzing through the u-scan 12 items or less, we had a jam-packed day of Saturday activities. I would not, could not, let Meijer throw a wrench in my oh-so-tight-schedule. I paid, removed my bags from the bagging area, my daughter wraps her hands firmly around the cart's handle, we're off...

"did I show you the pictures yet?!" the u-scan cashier grabs the crook of my arm. "leave it to Jerry to bring home another cat! you know would think having five already--but none of the shelters would take him. wait! I've got some pictures on my phone."

the cashier flips through pics of the new kitty--Marvin--while I happily nod and exclaim, "oh, a black and white kitty!" as if black and white markings are rare, especially in cats. you know, doing my part to keep the conversation going, waiting for the inevitable let down of, "wait, you're not Agnes!" after praising her kindness to neglected kitties, and three minutes of tricky brain work to keep the illusion alive, my daughter and I walk toward the exit.

"who was that?" daughter asked. I explained the story of my face's life while we walked through the airlock and into the parking lot. just as I finished with, "I just have one of those faces..." a woman rolls down her window waving wildly. "hey, Tanya! see you tonight?"

without missing a beat, I shouted back, "I'll be there!"

oh yeah, I'll be there.