the downs and ups of holiday shopping

Nope. Not talking about gift shopping. Not yet. Today, the space in my writer’s mind is occupied by the hand-to-hand combat otherwise known as pre-Thanksgiving grocery shopping.

We flipped off tradition this year and took a hard left away from turkey. Partly because we wanted to use our Ninja grill and partly because Jake was in town, and they mentioned turkey isn’t really their thing anymore. So we put on our thinking toques and landed on grilled pork chops. Why? Because Costco has some of the best pork chops I’ve ever seen at a groceryish-kind-of store. And we thought they’d be great on the Ninja.

We interrupt this blog for a special message from its author...

I am not being paid by the good people at Costco or Ninja. But, good people, if you happen on this blog and want to toss some money in my direction, I promise to do the polite thing and accept it. Now back to the task at hand.

I hadn’t been to Costco in years, and I thought—naively—it might not be so bad. It was Tuesday before Thanksgiving, so not quite into last-minute territory. Plus, I wasn’t out for traditional Thanksgiving food. I can admit it now. I was simply unprepared.

I walked in to find the card-checker-person had been replaced by a scanner. Sort of. People were scanning their membership cards, but there was still someone there to make sure no one snuck in to infiltrate the neighborhood Costco. It made me wonder why they have both the scanner and the scanner person, but that soon became the least of my worries. I arrived at the scanner about the same time as a woman who was coming in from the other entrance. I, of course, let her go in front of me. Because that’s the way Gram raised me. But then the woman announced to the scanner person that she was “just going to run in quickly because I have a sleeping child in the car.”

There are several things wrong with this, right? Even if it was her first time at a Costco, she must know it’s not a store you can “run in quickly.” Surely, this woman has friends who would have warned her about this. And, more importantly, why couldn’t one of these friends watch her child so she didn’t leave the kid asleep in the car? That’s just not okay, right? That’s a rhetorical question. It is not okay. Ever. Wake the kid up or come back another time with or without the kid.

Once I got into the store, I felt immediately outmanned. Or outpersoned, I guess would be more appropriate. People were maneuvering their giant NASCarts with a level of dexterity I couldn’t fathom, even if I had two fully functional legs. So what did I do? I fucking froze, that’s what I did. And that was the perfect thing to do if I wanted to do the wrong thing. Because there are exactly zero places you’re not in someone’s way at a Costco.

It took me a minute to find an opening, but as soon as I did, I shot through it as quickly as I could. Now I was in the flow. It was the wrong direction, but there was no turning around. I was like one of the turtles in Finding Nemo. I paused briefly when I thought I saw a seam. I glanced to my left and an older gentleman nodded at me as if to say, “Take your shot, brother, or you’ll still be right there an hour from now.” So I broke ranks and didn’t look back.

Thankfully, no one else wanted pork chops or an Andre the Giant sized roasted chicken. I got what I needed, and a few things I didn’t need. Because that’s what you do at Costco. And then I made a colossal rookie mistake. I went into the produce dungeon. Don’t get me wrong. I love Costco’s produce. But when it’s that busy, you’re risking frostbite for your mountain of carrots. Even if they are the funky-looking kind of carrots. It just isn’t worth it.

But I was already in, so I grabbed what I could and silently pleaded to fellow shoppers with my best lost puppy look to carve me a small escape route. I was freezing. But eventually I made it out.

Then I thought I’d cruise the baked goods, if for now other reason, to get a look at the cartoon-sized pies. But I got upsold on a gigantic loaf of rosemary parmesan bread. I was just standing next to it, minding my own business. I wasn’t even looking at it. But then a lady sprinted to the table and announced to no one that “These are incredible.” So I had to have one. Side note: it’s pretty good bread, which is a high compliment from someone who doesn’t eat a lot of bread.

I fought my way toward the exit and got to the front of a checkout line almost immediately. I’m still not sure how that happened, but note to Kroger. Costco does the checkout thing right. And after the hellish shopping experience, my stress-free saunter through checkout was welcome. I didn’t even have to sit in my car to decompress before leaving. I left all the chaos inside, and then I went home.

Speaking of Kroger... that was the next day’s adventure. We just needed a handful of things, but after the Costco experience, I was wary of the trip. Much to my surprise, Kroger was as empty as I’ve ever seen it. It felt like when I used to go to Tops in Lockport at 2am and bowl soup cans down the aisles with the stock people. There were maybe 20 people in the entire store. But remember, this is Kroger. So, while I was able to get everything I needed faster than a woman with a sleeping child in the car... too soon?

Anyway, I got all my stuff and headed for the checkout area to find myself 15th in the line to use the few open self-checkout kiosks. Come on Kroger. Get with it. If Costco can do it, why can’t you? Just open more lanes. Hire more people. Or both. Especially in a holiday week.

I suppose all’s well that ends well. We had a wonderful Thanksgiving with Jake and I’m sure I’ll be over my Costco trauma by next year.

Cheers.