Meijer and the SWIs

I was yesterday years old when I realized that for years now, an unknown percentage of the people I mercilessly threw into the Meijer-crazy category were actually, not. they just might be something entirely different.

at least, that is the only explanation I can come up with for yesterday's jaunt into the superstore...

as y'all know during and since pandemic, the service industry has taken a colossal hit in the e m p l o y e e area. (*whispers* service industry's equivalent to the c r o t c h) people are reluctant to go back to work, and are opting for unemployment instead.

fast facts:
*there are 16 cashier lanes in Meijer, but only 4 Meijer cashiers
*there are 12 u-scan machines for 12 items or fewer
*there are 4 u-scan unlimited items lanes, but 1 is strictly for shipt employees

second in line at the unlimited u-scan lanes, I realized I had just finished the 6th song on my Meijer playlist since joining the line--that's approx 24 minutes! I turned around and counted 8 carts behind me. what the what?! 

I inventory the u-scan lanes: 2 people in the shipt lane, 2 red-light lanes with customers desperate to get the attention of the Steward of the Podium of Power, and a woman (with the only coveted green-lit lane) slowly quadruple-bagging individual grocery items.

in front of me, First in Line Lady makes a bold move and walks over to Quad Lady's touchscreen, throws her arms up in the air, and shouts to the rest of us, "she hasn't even paid!"

side note: I think that was what literary folk like to call "The Inciting Incident."

"I AIN'T GONNA PAY EITHER!!" she bellowed. 

I sincerely believe that all of us in line cocked our heads in unison at the incongruent declaration, with the optics of all groceries (quadruple) bagged and in her cart.

Quad Lady then leaned against the conveyor belt--effectively holding the only green-lit lane hostage. now, stay with me here... there is nowhere for me, or anyone else to go. 

collectively, we have already rejected the other 4 cashier-operated lanes because those lines were even longer! we can't just move over to the somewhat shorter 12-item lane because we clearly have more than 12 items and we've already invested 25+ minutes!

Quad Lady's announcement did get the attention of the SotPop, who immediately tried to reason with QL, yeahhhh. 

QL's emphatic head shaking, arms flailing and finger pointing at the screen, forced SotPop to do the unthinkable... he used his in-house walkie-talkie. #duhnduhnduhn 

within seconds 2 more associates showed up, one tried to fix the red-lit lanes, the other joined SotPop, which made QL puff-up into her full 65 years of age, 5'11", 300lbs and YELL once again the same message, albeit with a bit more clarification, "I AIN'T GONNA PAY--THAT SCREEN DIDN'T MATH RIGHT!"

I glance around, now everyone's getting agitated. it felt like I was surrounded by perturbed barrels of dynamite, and the QL's sparks were getting a littletooclose. with the help of SotPop #3, red-lit lanes turn green, a glimmer of hope that I'll get out of this alive takes shape, when...

Construction Worker Dude shows up, with his boxed deli lunch and fountain drink, cuts the entire line(!), and plants himself as the next check-out contestant for unlimited u-scan lane 9. 

that's when I did the unthinkable! I CALLED HIM OUT! do not even ask me why--it was a complete knee-jerk reaction--that might have been from a place of innocence: maybe he didn't see us writhing in line-hell agony?

"sir?" my indoor voice salutation only elicited a slight side-eye shift from Mr. LC (Line Cutter). I tried again, this time not so much from a place of innocence.

"SIR!" what I naively thought would just be a one-human-to-another clearing up of a misunderstanding went sideways--super fast.

when he turned to face me, I explained that there was a line waiting for those lanes. when he turned away, effectively ignoring me, that's when QL's initial skirting-sparks landed.

the woman he stood behind, turned on him, telling him to get in line. Granny behind me yelled a few non-Granny words at him, first in-line Guy in the other line pointed the way to the line behind him. generally both lines of I've-had-it-up-to-here customers were throwing shade.

I was tense, "what have I done?!" I thought--

"THAT MACHINE IS WRONG--IT KNOWS IT IS! I AM NOT DRUNK, WE ALL KNOW YOU CAN'T TAKE AMBIEN WITH ALCOHOL, BEER IS NOT ALCOHOL!"

clearly QL was not done with making her point that computers can't add, and in a way, it was a welcome distraction from Mr. LC. with most of us now watching the new drama unfold, and the other lanes back to flashing reds, Mr. LC made his next dastardly move.

👀

he didn't go to the back of the 12-item line, he waited on the side and then attempted to swoop in while oh-so-sober QL was defending her Ambien honor, and dissing all computers of the world.

I say attempted, because First In Line Guy cut him off with his cart, and chewed-him out while he scanned his items. 

Meijer mid-management shows up with bouncers (actually just cart-gathering guys in the orange and reflecting vests). they guide Mr. LC to the back of the line while he and First In Line Guy continue their back and forth, "you better be quiet!" and "big talk, big talk!" adult conversation.

now next in line, Meijer management directs me to the empty shipt lane. I have never u-scanned so fast in my entire Meijer customer career (#PR🥇) silently praying that nothing will trigger the red light. 

management decides to pull QL and her over-loaded cart to the empty lane next to me, attempting to explain basic math. QL is not having it. she explains that she can't afford that amount, that the computer knows it, and is lying about how much everything costs.

that's when the thought hits me; not crazy, just shopping while intoxicated.

"SWI," I absently/idiotically say aloud. "Shopping While Intoxicated."

"WHO KEEPS SAYIN' I'M DRUNK?!" 

I have never beat it out of Meijer so fast. #PR🥇

Meijer and the pandemic hunger game

decades from now, when the words "pandemic," "COVID," and "corona" are all but forgotten, I want a visual to show my grandchildren of this tumultuous-uncertain-trying-frightening-unprecedented-unnerving-isolated time... 

 

⬆︎ this about sums up the past 6 months of my grocery life;  paper towels, produce, TP, canned goods, cleaning/laundry products.

💡! 

heeeeeyyyy... wanna play "The Pandemic Price is Right Hunger Game" and guess how much the Two-Tier Small Cart cost?

Click on the jingle while you take a zoom-in closer look... 

I'll give you a massive hint-- none of the bags contain meat or dairy. think you've guessed the grand total? then scroll down ⬇︎

did you say $165?

nope! 🙄

did you say $210?

negatory! 😲

you went higher? 

"$325?" you shock-whisper...

WRONG AGAIN!! 👀

that cart, without meat or dairy, cost: $359.56(!!). 🤑

*sputter-gasp-cough-choke*

let's be honest, if those bags contained any meat or dairy products, the shock-and-awe price tag would've been $gazillion.56. #sheesh

btw... I hate (and loathe) to be the bearer of even worse news, but... regular flu season has begun, and there's a hum-dinger of an election coming up. just sayin', it miiight be the right time to apply at the World Bank Group for that loan... 

to purchase meat and dairy. 

#maytheoddsbe #everinyourfavor

Meijer and the CDC blues

PANDEMIC UPDATES: 

1. Michigan now requires face masks in all indoor public places, by law. I know this because Meijer told me so via a 3' folding A-frame sign, aaaannnddd a bouncer standing behind said sign, presumably to enforce said sign.

and by "bouncer" I mean an anemic, anorexic, meth-addict, who sips slim-fasts all day. #Icouldtakehim #💪🏼 #butIwont #playingbytherules

2. for the past 4 months these items on my grocery list have been AWOL. 

*antibacterial wipes

*isopropyl alcohol

*kippered snacks (quick protein source, don't judge)

*Dave's bread

*Vitamin D gummies 

*vinyl gloves (my fave kitchen gadget for dealing with meat, don't judge)

each item listed has an evenly aligned, negative-space (artsy lingo for 'empty') row, fronted with a plastic Meijer-font description + price, but no actual item to seal the deal. 

week after week feels like Meijer just shrugs at these items and thinks, "meh, they won't notice. let's stock up on packets of turkey gravy instead."

3. the superstore feels a bit... exhausted. 

all the happy little blue and white footprint floor stickers, giving me an exact 6' guesstimate where to queue-up, are now worn, torn, or reduced to a circle smudge of sticky. so now, Mr. Coughing Through My Turtleneck feels more like 6" away. 

the greeters hope I think they're smiling behind the masks, but the eyes don't lie. and all the antibacterial wipes they hand out, become dried pieces of litter all over the store, carts, and the parking lot-- egads! it just hit me--no wonder there aren't any wipes on the shelves!

4. I forgot my AirPods today, so I got to "experience" a pandemic background playlist. 

it sucks. when did grocery shopping become so moody, so slow-jam, so I got the blues, with a dose of reality hit-list of rules and regs from the CDC? 

*sigh* I never thought I would pine so hard for the perky tunes of Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go, Danke Schoen, or Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.

gotta be honest, I'm ending this post searching for a bright side, a silver-lining, and all I can come up with is...

won't have to go back to the superstore for another 10 days 😟, and 🤞🏼 that a vaccine comes out in 9. #remembertheairpods

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!