Meijer and the vaccine perks

PANDEMIC UPDATE: 18May2021

the CDC announced that vaccinated folk can now publicly live mask-free. shockingly, Michigan's health advisers and governor agree.

of course, I head to Meijer--the superstore. 

honestly, I can't wait to experience the mask-less freedom and exhilaration of a clustered group of crazies customers under one massive warehouse-esque roof.

I step out of my car, soooo giddy(!). I sneer at the heretofore ever-present face mask folded in the cupmaskholder. we have waited for the Great Day of Normalcy, and it has arrived! 

big unmasked smile as I look to the west-side entrance/exit, half-expecting (hoping?) for a marching band, or an old-timey fire engine bell clanging the happy news, or maybe the Meijer Tzar, unmasked, personally greeting each customer, his pearly whites sparkling in the morning sunrise.

I squint at the entrance/exit sliding doors. my unhidden smile falters.

first one customer, then a couple more, exit the store... with masks ON!

like a Pavlovian trained mutt, mask-muscle-memory reaches for the double-layered face mask from its maskholder. my fingers expertly spread the mask loops wide to avoid bumping my AirPods and earrings, with a quick nose-pinch to seal the deal.

I quick-walk to the entrance, a flurry of toddler-tantrum reasoning rapid-fires through my brain, "but the CDC said... the governor said... everyone said..."

approaching the whooshing doors, I expected to see a big A-frame sign, or a large colorful placard that will release us from the past 14 months of masking, only to find this...

yeah. landscape oriented, 8.5"x11" sized, gray scale "color" piece of paper, taped to the very top corner of the doors--clearly Meijer is thrilled about the CDC's and MI de-masking policy. 

you know I've been dutifully playing by the rules, every rule(!) which suddenly, I realize, is exactly the point.

"the rules have changed," I mask mumble. 

I search for the best apropos hype song from one of my multiple playlists...

*dramatically yanks off mask* 

immediately followed by...

*obligatory juggle/ground scramble when my AirPods and earrings dislodge from dramatic yank*

my face flushed with obvious (and now visible) embarrassment, I collect my valuables, regain my dignity and stride through the airlock, bare-faced and resolute to enter the superstore--so ready for the welcoming "huzzahs!" of my fellow mask-freed humans(!)...

🦗🦗🦗

Still-Masked Greeter Lady nods her "Welcome to Meijer," with a lingering side-eye at my rebellious act of obeying the rules.

my eyes flit from one masked customer, and Meijer associate, to the next. 

seriously? am I the only fully-vaccinated-since-February Michigander that for months looked forward to actual perks of my Pfizer vaccines? I mean, besides the obvious perk of the "I'm Vaccinated" pin I used for my Insta story. #42views! #perks

my hand reached into my pocket, teasing the idea that I could just put my mask back on, blend in, give-in, give-up my new vaccinated perk...

a masked woman walking towards me literally stops in her tracks--clearly staring at my uncovered face. 

several knee-jerk reactions race through my mind: 

1. show her the pic of the tiny Meijer freedom sign, and my vaccine card?

2. fumble to replace mask... and possibly drop my AirPods for a second time? 

3. fight stance? (☜I'm gonna blame the Joan Jett hype song for that one)

I keep walking, ready for anything, when I watch her hand raise, as if in slo-mo, touch her mask, and then pull it off her face! correction, her angelic, beautifully smiling face!

of course I nod, and smile back, an electric human connection zaps between us as we pass each other. I glance away, and to my right I notice masked Hipster Dude taking in the scene. another de-masking, another amazing smile.

no, the entire store didn't unmask, join hands and sing the universal hymn of freedom... but I'm gonna add "the smiles of a stranger" as a definite, undeniable, vaccine perk.

Meijer and the banes of pandemic society

it's a rare day when I find myself standing in solidarity with Meijer, the superstore.

I'm guessing 88.79% (too specific for guessing?) of my posts take a position opposite to Meijer's picture of the fantasy/ideal customer. 

*extremely brief introspective sigh*

but like I said, I'm playing by the rules while my county's COVID-19 numbers are ominously slapped with the title "nation's hot spot". 🔥 

about a month ago, in the throes of living the hot-spot life (a pandemic really changes the vibe of that cool/clubbing lingo), I donned a mask and strong-walked across the Meijer parking lot.

before I triggered the motion sensor for the sliding glass doors, I noted a sign asking for customers with the bullet-point symptoms to voluntarily refrain from entering the superstore, and requiring all who enter to wear a mask. ✓✓

knowing that bonafide surgical masks were scarcer than hen's teeth, (☜ for my Beverly Hillbillies' fans), I entered the store, sure that a doozy of a Meijer Chronicles post was about to unfold...

yeah, I spied the coveted N95 masks (what darkweb Amazon.com are they shopping at?!), and yes, surgical masks were all the rage, but then the variants got a little outlier-ish-y:

*sleep masks

*pulled up turtlenecks

*welder/grinder face shields

*'Merica neck gaiters 

*napkins held to face

*and a toddler-size sweater (you go haggard mom who forget a mask and used whatever was not vomited or peed on in the back seat 👊🏼)

these were great, after all, necessity is the mother of invention, but as I navigated through the superstore, I discovered... *cue ominous organ music* the Mask-Refusers. those bare-faced malefactors who belligerently(!), and figuratively, spat in the safety-goggled eye of the CDC's advice. 

oh, how I wish you could've seen the half-hidden fury of the Masked-Ones! who needs facial expressions, when the 👀 can say so much?! the side glances, wives elbowing their husbands, the pointing, the angry squints, the blatant smh(s).

I, along with three other tsk-tsk-ers, stood agape (behind our masks) in solidarity when a MR Obnoxious Cougher was approached by a Meijer associate, and politely asked to put on a mask, or leave the store. 

I'm guessing OC was formerly a FIFA player because her outrage had to have been coached. the massive-lung fed-up-to-HERE expletives, and final HUFF that came out of her was epic(!), as in great-woolly-mammoth exhale epic. #prehistoricepic #nextlevelstuff

after the massive huff, and subsequent coughing spasm, she abandoned her cart and stomp/stagger-coughed away. the Masked Vigilante Community dispersed; very pleased with ourselves, I might add.

as I swooped into the parchment paper aisle (on the lookout for more banes of society!), still riding the euphoria wave from ridding the dairy section (and quite possibly the entire store), of "Covid Mary," a glance of irritation from a fellow parchment paper lover startled me.

my hand flew to my mask, was I exposed?! no, mask in place, and covering my nose. I walked on, maybe the glance was a fluke(?). 

nope, not a fluke. aisle after aisle it became crystal-clear that I was now the target of disgruntled side-glances of the Masked-Ones. somehow, inconceivable to me, I had become a bane. 

I turned into the bottled marinara aisle, aka all things Little Italy, where the withering glances escalated into the you-are-dead-to-me stare! 

deciding against that week's spaghetti dinner plan, I made a dash to the end of the aisle, desperate to escape the stares and growls of the Corleone Family's henchmen. I darted into another aisle, and nearly careened into a cart leaving that aisle. 

it was Harried Mom, her toddler's Oshkosh Bgosh sweater-mask muffled her apology.

"so, sorry!" as she adjusted the tightness of the mask's sleeves. "I'm so clueless, I didn't notice the arrows on the floor! sorry!" she wheeled passed me.

I heard myself whisper behind my mask, "arrows? floor?"

I glanced down; blogger instincts took over, I snapped this pic...

*much longer, and embarrassed, introspective sigh*

"ladies and gentlemen, put your slow clap hands together for the banes of the pandemic society: Mask-Refusers and... One-Way Obliviants!"  🙋🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️

Meijer and the what if—?! panic

living in COVID-19 Michigan means the quarantine-life has been going on for 40 days, and we get to look forward to (at least) 20 more. 

I've decided to play by the rules on this one-- not my typical adventurous, devil-may-care attitude, mostly because I keep getting this image in my head...

 
that's me, a knife at my throat and COVID-19 screaming-- "never go against a pandemic when death is on the line!" *maniacal laughter*

so, once every 10 days I take my SUV (gas tank still 7/8 full--40 days!!!) to the superstore to restock groceries and other necessities. I choose Meijer for the mostly-reliable one-stop shopping, or as we like to say in Michigan, "one-stop = minimal exposure shopping." #favesaying

sheesh. gonna be honest, this pandemic is messing with my grocery game. yeah, I create meticulous lists, you bet'cha. but all checked-twice-list bets are off when I walk through the superstore's "airlock." (⬅️ that word(!) doesn't live up to it's hype. #pandemicstandards)

It feels like I live a dual pandemic-panic shopping life:
rational me: sticks religiously to my list
vs.
irrational me: spies a fishing pole, and thinks, "I don't have this... what if the pandemic gets so bad that I have to start fishing?!" 

before you know it, I'm wedging a rod, reel and fluorescent lures (big enough to tempt Free Willy) between two dozen eggs, coconut milk, a box of those posh "fireplace" matches, the what-if-we-lose-power?! hibachi, and a pair of what-if-there's-a-flood?! hip-waders.

the rational-me list, firmly gripped in my left hand, snaps me back. I review the cart's contents, giving each item a serious rethink.

I discard the posh matches. #frivolous 

I rededicate myself to my list, and head to Pharmacy for some Vitamin D gummies. 

I flatly ignore aisle after aisle of reading glasses, canes, wrist bandages, foot supports/powder, allergy relief, no-pooping relief, back pain relief; judiciously resisting each of their what if—?! arguments. 

I am nearly passed the last fill-in-the-blank body part pain relief. I'm thisclose to reaching the wall of gummy vitamin delights when-- 

I stop dead in my tracks. evolutionary instincts take over; with my peripheral vision I watch my phone-hand raise, thumb hovers over the camera button...

*click*




honestly, I have no idea what I've discovered. clearly, I can read, but never, ever(!) have I seen the words "EAR" and "Candles" paired together-- much less packaged with a set of sketchy directions, and a photo of a human with a candle sticking out of her head. 

the longer I stare at this cock-eyed (cock-eared?) product, rational thought slips away, replaced with my irrational evil-twin; "what if the pharmacy runs out of the prescription stuff of whatever this does?!" 

the scientific claims on the packaging come into focus:
"naturally relaxing" 
me: eyes flit back to the photo, "oohhh, she's relaxed! not in a meds-induced coma."

"handcrafted beeswax candles" 
me: "a gold clip-art graphic official seal. seems legit."

"Luxury Collection"
me: "gasp, and only $8.99." 

again, I take inventory of my cart. 

I rethink the eggs.

Meijer and the art of pandemic war

I know what you're thinking...

"more "empty-shelves-at-a-grocery-store" pics? *yawn*"

NOPE! 

well, maybe one... zoom in on that 10 for $10 sale sign, go ahead, I'll wait...

I promise you, I sly-scanned every cart that came within the decreed "that's close enough" 6 feet of me, but I could not find Mr(s). Broccoli Crown Hoarder.

however, zoom in a bit more, see white-stripe joggers dude? he is what we call in the Pandemic Insanity biz, "amateur." you come to the superstore to play hoarder hardball and you pre-fill one cart with humans?! *riotous laughter that ends with COVID-19 wheeze*

unlike the amateur superstore shoppers, I had a plan, a list, and an empty cart. #PandemicAftermath101 

here's my list:
protein food
dairy food
produce food

my list is so brilliant, even Sun Tzu would be impressed! that list is the epitome of a couple of massively important war concepts: 
war plan vs. realities of war
premise of adaptation aka, rolling-with-the-punches

clearly I took that pic in the superstore's produce section, and when a quick google search for "citron turnip breadfruit recipes" came back with zilch, *agape shock!* I moved on to the top of my list, protein food.

I turn the corner from produce area into meat section, I stop, and utter this word, "keto."

suddenly all of southeast MI is keto?! I'm staring at the only package of beef stomach tripe, I can't help but wonder; were there more tripes? I envision a multi-Meijer-Crazies tripe fight, but then in my IRL peripheral vision, I see a broken jar of pigs feet on the floor with it's protective yellow "slippery when wet" cone guarding the kinda-sorta-homicidal scene. 

wincing, I type in google's search field, how to cook... I mutter, "and not vomit,"
t-r-i-- I can't do it. I completely wuss-out on a google search. now-- now I'm feeling it. that feeling of panic, the "what's for dinner?!" discomfort/inner-dread. 

I remind myself that 2 out of 3 foods on my brilliant list were fails. I MUST come through in the dairy section. I'm not walking anymore, I'm fast-walking. the clickety-clack of that bad front wheel on the cart is whirring an urgent hum; daaaaaaiiiirrrrryyyyyy!

I skid to a stop in front of that massive wall of refrigerator doors-- 

side note: as I think back on it, I should've tilted the camera to my face and taken a "how-do-I-bring-home-6-pint-bottles-of-buttermilk-to-my-loved-ones" selfie. #onedayyoulllookbackandlaughmoment

my empty cart's wheel is just annoying-squeaking now as I crumple my stupid, unbrilliant list in my hand. 

still, there's a tiny part of me that refuses to give in; even as I walk passed aisle after empty aisle. I refuse to be beaten by the lack of google's recipe genius! I refuse to believe that I have to put stomach into my... stomach(!), and I refuse to believe that Sun Tzu didn't prepare me for everything war could throw my way.

two marauders "rushed" Meijer customers force me to swerve to the right, and at that moment a light went on.💡no, seriously. no metaphor, the sensor light behind the frozen food door flickered on. 

but-- that's when the metaphorical lightbulb flipped on in my head. this time I did raise my camera and took these pics while muttering...

"fruit pies. produce food."


"peanut butter ice cream. protein food."


and then, I glanced to my right, and the rest of the wall of frozen-miracles lit up. in awe, I whispered: "multi-colored, artificial-flavored ice cream. dairy food!"

it was as if Sun Tzu guided me to a rainbow, symbolic with a promise that I wouldn't lose this hoarder's battle, that it will all workout. 

well, eating that much ice cream means I'll have to workout, but hey, this is war!