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."