It was my first trip out to Costco since the self isolation, Two guys with spray bottles and rag lined the entrance lobby presenting freshly sanitized carts. As I moved along the aisles with my wife I couldn’t help but notice the silence permeating throughout the store. People shuffling along avoiding eye contact but generally maintaining a semblance of distance. No treats.
We approached the tills, where we were held back in a holding area and quickly sent off to a designated checkout. Every second checkout was unoccupied.
After unloading on the belt I moved to the end of the packing line while my wife and the cashier were conducting their business and started pondering all the risky moments I encountered in the store and the probability that some viral agent is on the packaging that is going to enter our safe home.
Suddenly I hear the packing lady say hear you go and I answer with a cursory thank you.
Then it hit me. That was not enough. Turning to look at her I say a little more emphatically “Thankyou very much” The packer looked up and gave me a smile of appreciation that just made the rest of my day.
Packing lady? You must have a fancy Costco! At mine, the cashier just scans and sticks it in a cart.
Usually your stuff goes into the previous person’s empty cart in an effort to prevent dishonest people from doing things like hiding a $20 pack of batteries under a sack of flour. I didn’t pay attention to the process yesterday to see if they still do that or if they adjusted procedures so you get the same cart back without being part of a long germ-transfer chain.
My allocated shopping hour is 4 to 5 P.M on Thursday. Thank heavens I wasn’t given one of the early slots like poor Samuel. How he gets up at that time I don’t know.
It is forecast to be raining on Thursday afternoon so I thought I could try to go today. What’s the difference I thought. Everything seemed OK until I got near where they used to stock the toilet paper. One older woman hissed something to her partner. He looked at me and then I clearly heard her say, “He’s not one of us. He’s not a Wednesday.”
Other people began to turn and look. I didn’t have time to put the jar of stuffed olives or the tin of herrings in mustard sauce back on the shelf. I simply dropped my reusable cloth bag and ran for the exit.
Thankfully, the security guards were occupied by a skirmish involving a cabbage so I was able to flee unimpeded. Of course I will have to find somewhere else to shop now. On Thursday. Between 4 and 5.
You are given a time and day of the week when you’re allowed to shop? I don’t think they’re doing that where I live in the US and I haven’t heard of it being done anywhere in the US. Is that the practice throughout Australia?
I did a food run a couple of days ago to the local Kroger. I blocked a narrow aisle for about 15 seconds to grab a few bottles of ginger ale, and as I was moving on an older lady who’d stopped behind me said “Excuse me. Took you long enough.”
I didn’t bother responding.
Exchanged greetings and well-wishes with the cashier and bagger.