Meijer and the Helvetica outrage

apparently, every 10 years Meijer gets a makeover. 

in 2006, I posted this entry about my hopes and dreams for the Marsha makeover, and then the subsequent shredding of said hopes/dreams. Marsha's pretty/perky exterior couldn't hide the hideously uncouth soul of Jan.

recently, in 2016 (oh my gosh, time flies!), I turned left into the wide-open-west parking lot and was hit with major deja vu... the railroad construction containers are back-- with a vengeance!

 

not gonna lie, my heart skipped a beat. all a flutter, in my chosen parking spot, I stared wide-eyed at the metal containers...

"is this it?" 

questioned my once again hopeful heart. 

"is this the makeover that actually drives a stake into Jan's putrid walking-dead soul?" 

(wow, that took an unexpected HBO-esque turn.)

after taking the necessary time (8 seconds) to reflect on my heart's vicious inner-monologue, I decided guarded optimism would be the wisest policy.

but then, I stepped inside and realized that no type of optimism, guarded or otherwise should've been in my game plan:

1. live "plants and flowers" section takes up an absurd amount of realty in this pre-makeover. there are so many hyper-perfumed flowers, my lungs and sinuses instantly went into lock-down mode. you'd think they'd at least put this pollen-cloud hazmat disaster near the Allegra-D aisle, but no. 

2. "his/her birthday, son/daughter birthday, funny birthday, from us birthday, naughty birthday, etc." previously, the superstore housed maybe 4 half-displays (8' long?) of greeting cards; now there are 5 half-displays and 3 full-length displays of greeting cards! are there even that many people with birthdays in this world?! okay, maybe, but do they all shop at Meijer? #doubtful 

3. wall of cheese has disappeared. no joke. all those pre-packaged, pre-shredded, dyed-yellow, rubbery time-savers-- poof! instead, there's a floor to ceiling, sinister wall; half white plastic (like the kind you find in 1980's slasher films), half white particle board (not particularly creepy, but...) with lots of machinery-noise shrieking from beyond. it sounds like a torture chamber, intensified by the fact that you can't see what is going on behind the wall! it's like being snow-blind in a 17th century Spanish inquisition dungeon. yeah, exactly like that.

granted, the destruction/construction horrors will be temporary, and could possibly purge the insipid, insidious soul of Jan forever (fingers crossed, knock on wood), but there's still item #4 that is new and permanent, that I can't abide. new signage has already been strung from the rafters and it's unsettling because...

they've desecrated the beloved Helvetica, but... I'm not sure how. I know there's something wrong with it, a chubby width(?) with an unnatural height(?); perhaps it's the tail of the lowercase 'y'? I can't figure it out, but when I search for the aisle labeled "salty snacks," I hear raspy Gollum wail in my head, "it hurts us!"

silver-lining? I created the perfect Facebook activism slogan. #saveHelveticafromJan

Meijer and the silence of the crazies

it seems that this Marsha Meijer makeover isn't one of those outpatient, recover over the weekend types. this recovery is a doozy. I think we're on week 6 right now. things are looking tight and pulled together in some areas, while even more areas are still sporting the plastic, ceiling to floor surgical drapery, giving a definite "we'll get to that problem area soon" feeling. the entire store is turned upside down, inside out, topsy-turvy, (any other madcap images?) and willy-nilly. (tee hee, snuck that one in for my Southern friends.) now, for, let's say, an amateur Meijer shopper this might be frustrating and confusing--but for a veteran professional such as myself, this Meijer muddle is a blessing in disguise.

sure, even as a professional shopper I wish the new hot pink faux lambswool back-support cushion inventory stacked in the aisles would get shelved and I could do without the worry of watching supposed-to-be-refrigerated-food sweating on a palette in aisle 14, but these negatives aside, there are a few perks.

staying true to my capitalist roots, the first perk is money, cha-ching! Meijer management is everywhere discounting meat, produce, cheese and nearly all other essentials. I like to call them the "pardon our dust" discounts. this little perk is keeping my family filled with the USDA suggested requirements of fruits, vegetables, dairy, New York strip steak and baby back ribs. then, as if that isn't wonderful in and of itself, when I check out--feeling smug about my obvious steak dinner with all the trimmings--I get a coupon telling me that my loyalty to this Meijer makeover will be rewarded to the tune of $5 off my next grocery bill.

wooo hooo!

are ya' green with envy yet? not quite? read on my hard to impress friend, read on...

to me, (a veteran of the Meijer grocery experience) the most important perk of all is the silence of the crazies. let that sink in for a minute--no crazies for the past 6 weeks! admittedly, I do not have the scientific data to support my theory, but I believe the Meijer makeover chaos has compromised the crazies' infrastructure, they haven't been able to adapt yet!

the guy who sniffs corn on the cob like it's a fine Cuban cigar is silently staring at the newly located Brach's bulk candy, probably wondering where he is going to get his next cob fix. the typically cantankerous pharmacy patrons are now quietly standing behind the remains of the red-taped privacy line, (ignoring the tiny, handwritten sign informing them of the new pharmacy location) hoping the great Pharmacist of Oz will throw back the plastic drapes and reveal a staff with a heart and a brain. even the frenetic mini-Bonaparte brats are at a loss as to when and where to throw a candy tantrum. nearly everyone else is wandering the superstore craning their necks, brows furrowed in concentration/frustration, and mouthing the words "where is...?"

basically, what all this means for a worn out Meijer veteran like me is that I can now indulge in a quiet shopping experience--even the tunes of yesteryear are squelched. despite all the physical disarray at Meijer, I'm sure (if I had the faintest idea how) I could silently slip into a yoga meditative state.

ohm. makeover. ohm.