The Meijer Chronicles

Meijer and the face-up penny

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Mon, 13 Jun 2011 20:18:00 +0000

OMGosh! Meijer's electric gas price sign blinks from $3.85/gal to $3.75!! Ninety degree swerve left and I'm cued up for unleaded pole position. that face-up penny this morning has just paid off.

per the standard rules of Meijer Gas station etiquette, I pay attention to traffic flow and advance on an empty pump--and so did Ms. Subaru, from the opposite side. apparently, Ms. Subaru thinks the mongo yellow arrows on the gum-smeared asphalt pointing in her direction means she's been selected to enter the wrong way. grrr.

but, whatever, we're Honda to Subaru nose, but it can't squelch my Christmas morning delight that gas is actually under $4 again. I can't stop my feet from jigging a hot-potato... jig.

$66.10 later (gulp), I slide onto my leather interior, seat belt clicked, ignition on, I look up-- at Ms. Subaru giving me the "move along" hand gesture, followed by the impatient pointing to the cellphone at her ear, in her best, "Duh! I'm on the phone!"

deep inhale. Inner peace, inner peace, inner... peace. deep exhale.

1. It's illegal to hold a cellphone and drive in this city, and
2. Does she honestly think a Motorola RAZR gives her Diplomatic Immunity?

I'm about to pull a Fried Green Tomatoes on this woman, but the $3.75/gal happy endorphins are still going strong. I check my mirror, no one behind me, I slide the gear shift into R, secretly smug that I'm the better person. ;)

unfortunately, Ms. Subaru's busy life and tight time schedule meant she couldn't wait 15 seconds for me to accomplish the above, she huffed, squeezed her Motorola tighter, threw her car into R-- and used her Forester's rear end to wipe the nose of one 2011 Mercedes E class... trying to exit the proper way.

can you say: Uber-ouchen?

poor woman, all I could think was, "I must have picked up her lucky penny."

tee hee.

Meijer and the season soundtrack

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Thu, 09 Dec 2010 17:04:00 +0000

here's the thing, as limiting and against modern philosophy as it sounds, I am, by nature... loyal.
sigh. it feels really good to get that out.

sure, I'll flirt with the young, the bold and sometimes even the unfamiliar--I'm only human after all.
but all of my numerous/forbidden flirtatious trysts with Whole Foods, Papa Joe's and Plum Market have never made me even consider a divorce from my one and only Meijer.

like most humans, I am flawed-- so flawed. I often fall into the trap of criticizing the one I love most; I point out the minuscule faults, I focus on the annoyances, I harp on the freaking lack of blankety-blank common sense to stock up on parchment paper during the holiday season!

but, the minute someone else bags (no pun intended) on my local Meijer... You. Go. Down.

Thanksgiving week is, at best, one big smeary blur for me. I'm busy helping my kids survive the one zealous teacher forcing a last insane project before the break, shopping for Thanksgiving, organizing my Black Friday/BlackOps event, and this year, prepping for my brother's visit. so, I'm a bit foggy as to the precise date of the crime against Meijer and by extension--against me.

My brother was near the pharmacy/toiletries area while me and my son, walked toward the u-scans when I heard the following: mwahm! mwahm! mwahm! (security/metal detector thingy going off) then, "Sir! Sir! Siiiirrr!"

I knew that voice.

for twelve years that voice has monotone-ly welcomed me to Meijer then insincerely thanked me as I exited Meijer. greeter lady was in trouble. my heretofore (used that word again!) unknown honed Spidey-skills blocked all else out, and my eyes zeroed in on the victim.

greeter lady was in the air-lock, gallantly grasping a cart that Mr. Thin-In-A-Sinister-Way was desperately trying to push through the outer airlock door. I realized people were passing by them in the airlock, ignoring her looping incoherent pleas of help, (in the form of ) "Sir! Sir! Siiiirrr!"

I was blocked by the cart corral and low shelving, I couldn't get to her in time. I mentally fretted, "for the love of Meijer humanity, where is Pat when I need shim?!" Out of the corner of my eye I saw my 6'1" brother, who works out as entertainment, walk within eight feet of the not-quite-commenced horror.

unable to wrest my eyes from the scene, I pointed and shouted, "go help her!" that's when Mr. TIASW started throwing elbows, pulling GL's hands from the cart, and quite nearly made his escape--all the while GL's high pitched cries of "Sir!" failed to be interpreted as "Help me, you gawking schmucks!"

I couldn't believe it. elderly Greeter Lady, who I like to think I have a meaningful shallow relationship with, is being manhandled by a lowlife!

my brother turned to where I was pointing, but didn't understand what was going on, mostly due to the wall of Meijer associates just watching their comrade. I shouted, this time in my all caps voice, "GO HELP HER, HE'S GETTING AWAY!" My brother advanced, the wall of Meijer Associates jumped, and in that moment, Mr. TIASW gave up the fight and stormed out of the airlock, without his cart.

pretty sure my trained Mom-Is-Pissed-Beyond-Belief voice played a part in his decision to flee. yep, pretty sure.

GL wobbly pushed the cart through the metal detectors, clearly shaken and suffering from shock. although, she managed to vary her vocabulary from "Sir!" to "whoa, whoa, wo-hoa!" repeated over and over and over, as she opened the green bin inside the cart filled with unpurchased electronic items.

I managed to make my purchases and headed for the parking lot, totally pumped to meet up with Mr. TIASW (who, if you're reading this, I've memorized your rat-like face) to put some ching-chang-chung moves on him and whisper in my best Dirty Harry, "Go ahead, mess with my Meijer."

No such luck, instead I realized I was humming the tune that had been playing in my head, the soundtrack, if you will, of the whole scuffle: "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas, ev'rywhere you go."

Meijer and the hiatus

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Wed, 20 Oct 2010 14:35:00 +0000

you may have noticed that I haven't posted anything for awhile. it isn't laziness--in this case--I haven't posted because I have been actively engaged in 'research.'

I've been purposely shopping at Kroger to see if all the craziness heretofore (been dyin' to use that word) recorded was unique to Meijer or if grocery stores the world over are just as nutty. Here's what I discovered...

nope. it's just Meijer.

I tried every ~~stunt~~ research tool in the book while shopping Kroger: varied the days/times I went (9:05am instead of 9:00am), varied my shopping list to put me in unusual aisles (lemon curd & gluten-free), bantered with the locals (recipe-swappers) I even spoke to the Kroger employees (helpful, informative)! a blatant 'no-no' at Meijer.

nothin'. nada. zip. zilch.

from management to shopper--completely, unequivocally, normal.

apparently, one of the two reasons the earth has not spun out of control is because 1. the laws of astrophysics won't allow it and 2. crazies and non-crazies have different grocery stores.

so the result of my research? my heart and cracked mind belong to: Meijer the superstore.

Meijer and the dogocide moment

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Sat, 08 May 2010 23:43:00 +0000

i'ts not as if I'm some u-scan etiquette know-it-all/expert...full-time.

regardless, I'm almost sure that using the u-scan to purchase the pre-assembled floor model barbeque grill, along with propane tank just isn't cricket. especially when u-scan lackey has to call in reinforcements to lift the behemoth for the u-scan to read the UPC.

sigh, no--they didn't think to pull the UPC sticker off. Meijer, remember?

perhaps the whole barbeque scene wouldn't have been so annoying if the other three u-scans were available, alas...

u-scan #2 was having a computer temper tantrum, monitor flashing, speaker screaming (can a computer scream?) 'I do not want to bag this item! I do not want to bag this item!'

#3 was being (ab)used by a first timer: first time using u-scan, first time using a touch screen, first time using a credit card, first time reading and breathing at the same time, etc.

#4 was confounded by a Meijer associate/customer trying to use their Meijer discount card, WIC card, senior citizen discount, and pay with their daughter's credit card.

I admit it, after about six minutes of standing in line, the 40 pound bag of dog food in my cart suddenly seemed unimportant. probing questions filled my mind, like; "does the dog really need to eat? can't I just build a trough and feed him scraps from the table? don't most third world populations eat dog? how much would a taxidermist charge me to immortalize my bulldog? less than the 40 pound bag of food?"

just as my grip tightened on the cart handle to swerve out of line, a u-scan opened up, the dog food scanned the first time, and within seconds my #3 u-scan was thanking me for shopping at Meijer.

my dog eats well...for at least one more month.

we'll see how next month goes.

Meijer and the face

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Tue, 02 Feb 2010 14:58:00 +0000

here's the thing...I have "one of those faces."

you know the one, the face that looks like so many other faces, that all too often, you think you know me.

yep, that's me. you've politely waved to me as our cars pass, thinking I'm a neighbor down the street. you've waved at me with giddy vigor across the mall parking lot, thinking I'm your long lost high school sweetheart not responding to your annoying facebook or classmates.com requests. perhaps--if in 1988 you were summering in Colorado--you've even asked for my autograph.

don't laugh!

one summer, I worked at a Colorado ski resort to earn money for the next semester of college. often, people would approach me all smiles, paper and pen in hand, and ask for my autograph. they chatted about Ted Danson, then graciously complimented me by saying I was much more attractive (and less annoying) than Shelley Long. experience taught me that denying the identity would only make the autograph seeker more persuasive; I learned to promptly sign "Kirstie Alley," smile and walk on. (I'm so shallow--I'm secretly thrilled that I am no longer mistaken for the current Kirstie Alley.)

other than ruining my dream of being an undercover CIA operative, it's not that bad being "one of those faces," I've learned to adapt.

my daughter and I were whizzing through the u-scan 12 items or less, we had a jam-packed day of Saturday activities. I would not, could not, let Meijer throw a wrench in my oh-so-tight-schedule. I paid, removed my bags from the bagging area, my daughter wraps her hands firmly around the cart's handle, we're off...

"did I show you the pictures yet?!" the u-scan cashier grabs the crook of my arm. "leave it to Jerry to bring home another cat! you know Jerry...you would think having five already--but none of the shelters would take him. wait! I've got some pictures on my phone."

the cashier flips through pics of the new kitty--Marvin--while I happily nod and exclaim, "oh, a black and white kitty!" as if black and white markings are rare, especially in cats. you know, doing my part to keep the conversation going, waiting for the inevitable let down of, "wait, you're not Agnes!" after praising her kindness to neglected kitties, and three minutes of tricky brain work to keep the illusion alive, my daughter and I walk toward the exit.

"who was that?" daughter asked. I explained the story of my face's life while we walked through the airlock and into the parking lot. just as I finished with, "I just have one of those faces..." a woman rolls down her window waving wildly. "hey, Tanya! see you tonight?"

without missing a beat, I shouted back, "I'll be there!"

oh yeah, I'll be there.

Meijer and the dress down friday

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Sat, 13 Jun 2009 13:00:00 +0000

in the spring of 1989, at a Smith's grocery store's pharmacy waiting area, I had the misfortune of sitting next to an old codger. he was dressed in his Sunday best, even though it was Tuesday. he was wearing his permanently pressed polyester pants in the classic 1935 fashion--waist line high enough to nudge his man boobs, but not close enough to chafe.

I on the other hand epitomized the modern 1989 style of fashion. I had my classic Levi's ripped at the left knee with just enough strands of jean fiber hanging from the gaping hole. I was wearing a red wool cardigan, last two buttons buttoned, sleeves pushed up 3/4, white cotton t-shirt underneath. top that off with a mismatched set of earrings (one diamond stud, one large hoop) and pumps. yeah...vogue.

mr. codger took one look at me and declared, not muttered, but declared: "I wish people today wouldn't dress like vagabonds."

ouch.

so, fast forward to 2009. lately, walking through Meijer makes me feel like the words "mrs. codger" are tattooed across my forehead, in a very neat and tidy font, of course.

things are getting a little scary my flannel-pajama-bottom-wear-them-as-if-jeans friends. you are not fooling anyone into thinking that hot pink, drawstring flannel, with cartoon monkey faces, is actually day wear inspired by New York fashion week. but even the jim-jam attired patrons, or the winter coat over bathrobe patrons, or any other fashion "don'ts" that saunter across my Meijer aisle path, none of them are as bad as my experience yesterday.

just finished my checking-out exhaustion with chatty cathy cashier. she wished me "have a great day, and go Red Wings!" (they lost the Stanley Cup later that night). with that send off from her check-out lane, I pushed my cart to the right, and fell in line behind a woman that I guessed to be 67 years old.

her blondish hair was styled in a low pony tail, when she turned around to check that she hadn't left anything at the check-out lane, I saw she was wearing make-up, wore earrings with matching bead necklace. she turned back around, still in front of me, when I noticed her outfit...
I realized her black linen shirt was see through. I could plainly see her black bra straps and her pale skin through the shirt.

my eyebrows raised, surprised that a 67 year old with a non-hard body would be so daring. just after that surprise, I noted that she must have sat in something, because her white linen capri pants had a light blue-ish stain on her left bum cheek. a few more steps closer, made me cringe. it wasn't a stain...it was a bruise...showing through her unlined linen capri pants, that were intended to be worn with a swimsuit or at least very white, very concealing, underwear!

yet there she was without panty lines, without the obvious solid white underwear color beneath the linen...it was all her--all na-tur-al! quickly diverting my eyes, I gave a sigh of relief that I was just walking behind her, can't imagine the macabre peep show that could have been forced on me if I had been walking toward her.

the morning conversation I had with my husband while he dressed for work came to mind; "It's dress down friday at work!" he exclaimed.

apparently, 67 year old linen-lady got the memo.

Meijer and the touch screen conversation

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Thu, 12 Mar 2009 16:30:00 +0000

u-scan screen: "are you using your own bag?" screen displays I'm using my own bag button.
me: index finger tap.

u-scan screen: I'm using my own bag. (again)
me: index finger jab/tap.

u-scan screen: I'm using my own bag. (AGAIN)
me: middle finger jab twist, followed up with verbal, "what the?!"

u-scan screen: picture of purse, keys, and red arrows pointing up and out, "please remove items from bagging area."
me: trying to get the attention of the u-scan lackey, while explaining to the u-scan, "I want to use my own bag!"

u-scan screen: "please wait for attendant." green light above touch screen now turns to DEFCON red.
me: trying to get the attention of the "attendant" chatting up another u-scan customer about the amazing technology advances in the grocery industry. I turn back to the screen in exasperation as it loops through its message for the 6th time, "please wait for attendant."

foreshadowing note: should I ever completely lose "it," please use this blog to prove that Meijer is the culprit and should pay for a live-in nurse to change my adult diapers.

Meijer and the top 5

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Fri, 06 Mar 2009 03:00:00 +0000

after years of observation, and a few days of thought, I've created my top 5 Meijer Associate Employment Choices:

5. cashier-yeah, don't be deceived by the "beauty" aspect of cashier employment: scan items, chit chat, talk on the phone, take money, and they don't have to walk around a whole lot. there is an "ugly" side: bagging, chit chatting with a Meijer crazy, union boss, and they don't get to walk around a whole lot. but I think the pay is good, at least better than jobs 6-10 that didn't even make the list.

4. tzar-again appearances can be deceiving. sure it looks like you rake in the BIG money just wandering around all day laughing on your Meijer issue cell phone, but what happens when the power goes out (been there, done that, twice) and the wheels of technological grocery-dom come screeching to a halt? that's right...firing squad for the tzar!

3. greeter-this would be my #2 winner if I was about 20 years older. I'm not quite mentally prepared for this mind numbing gig, but on the other hand you collect a paycheck for standing around and mumbling, "welcometoMeijer" or "thankyouforshoppingatMeijer."

2. stock-see now this appeals to me. as a stock person, you take up as much room as you want in an aisle, in frozen foods you get to wear gloves, you can whistle, talk on your phone, smile (or not) at customers, and often you are the hero, "oh thank you for bringing out a new case of frozen concentrate orange juice! I could only find the fresh stuff!"

1. Pat-this has to be it. the best job in the whole store. no, not being a genderless human, but being the eyes of Meijer, the law, the free spirit. you wander around the store seemingly engrossed by the ingredient list of butter, while stealthily watching the chronic "taster" pilfering the bin of bulk gummy bears.

as scary as the above top 5 are, the scariest is the possible reality that with this economy, my full-time mom status may switch to a full-time Pat status.

cue shivers...and empty your gummy bear filled pockets.

Meijer and the banana blitz

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Mon, 23 Feb 2009 19:03:00 +0000

no, I haven't been issued a "cease and desist" from the Meijer minds. just enjoying my kids' winter break from school and finishing some "research" for my blog next week...

I'll post this short, but sweet Meijer crazy gem:

Meijer is having a sale on apples, $1 per pound, color me red and delicious. actually, I opted for something a little more flamboyant, the PINATA apple (tilda over the "N" implied). the name says it all, resistance is futile.

I'm feeling festive with those massive apples in my cart as I samba my way over to the bananas. Pinata (again with the tilda) apples with Chiquita bananas, I smell par-tay! with carnaval music thumping in my head, I manuever next to a couple silently/blankly staring at the bananas. I'm tapping my foot to the only-in-my-head beat, perusing for some sunshine-y delights when the woman next to me suddenly throws up her hands and declares (a little too loudly), "I can't deal with the bananas right now" turns to her husband(?) and wimpers, "you deal with them, I can't take it today."

there are days when I wonder if I should be wearing a kevlar vest to Meijer.

Meijer and the pharmacy phenomenon

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Fri, 06 Feb 2009 18:12:00 +0000

amoxil, trimox, zithromax, bacitracin, erythromycin, ciprofloxacin, omnicef and cephalexin.

these are the words I have learned after years of study and residency for my MdC degree--Mother of diseased Children. yep, I can engage in playful banter, or serious brows-furrowed consultation, with any pediatrician and/or ENT specialist. my ability is a powerful one, but I adhere to the advice of Uncle Ben to Peter Parker, "with great power comes great responsibility."

for instance, when a non-MdC degreed mom is being pushed into purchasing the grape flavor for her omnicef prescription because the Meijer pharmacist lackey tells her it "really improves the taste," I will feign reaching for blistex and whisper, "save your money, nothing makes omnicef taste better." I will not, however, share the omnicef side effects that the poor victims (child and parent) will endure: gagging, tears, teeth clenching in refusal to take the med, and bribery may all occur three times a day for 10 days. to reveal that much information would just be cruel and looking like a "Mrs. Know-it-All, MdC" who wants to come off like that? tee hee!

so after years of shoveling out the multi-syllable words along with multi-dollarsign co-pays, the years of standing in the Meijer Pharmacy line while child-in-pain begs to be shot and put out of their misery, years of the genteel elderly hacking up phlegm into their wadded up handkerchiefs (hmmm, handy pocket bacteria at your fingertips!), what miracle of miracles happens...FREE ANTIBIOTIC PRESCRIPTIONS! AND...brand new MEIJER PHARMACY DRIVE THRU!

can you even believe my luck?! as a mom with the monogrammed bench for her Gold-Level sponsorship in the pediatrician's office (not really, but I should look into that), I am finally given a break--free antibiotics--or as we liked to call them "ickies." and I can keep my precious, disease infested, angry as a rabid dog, cherubs in the car and away from breakables. the elderly are included in the "breakable" category.

the pharmacy drive thru was placed on the west side of the parking lot--yes next to the Garden-for-5-months-of-the-year-Center. the large red-lettered signage declares "drive-thru pharmacy" over a large drive-thru banking type of window. it doesn't have the sucky-uppy tube like a bank, just the shove out drawer, flanked by two red painted cement posts. my "raging ear and sinus infection daughter" (that's her pet name at the peds office) is literally writhing in pain in the backseat of my odyssey, she reminds me of a Star Trek episode when Kirk is tortured with an awful high pitched noise and... dramatically... falls... to... his... knees... gasp!

apparently, when the plan to put the drive-thru on the west side of the building was concocted, they forgot that there is this big, blinding thing called the SUN that sets in the evening sky...everyday. I reach out to press the buzzer and am suddenly blinded by the reflection of said "sun." I feel for the buzzer and press frantically while I cover my eyes to readjust. the poor pharmacist walks towards me with her arms stretched out trying to reach the phone to talk to me. she put a hand over her eyes, and gives me a harried, "can I help you?" I squint my eyes and shout out my child's name. the pharmacist runs from her direct exposure to the sun, retrieves my med then approaches the window with one hand covering her eyes while the other searches the counter for the phone.

needless to say, paying with my debit card turned into a drive-thru drawer nightmare with me unable to reach it (remember the cement posts), getting out of my seatbelt, body through car window, squinting to type my PIN on the little machine, waiting for pharmacist to go through an acrobatic act with the VISA machine in order to read the digital "approved" readout, her search for the bag of meds she put down, shove the meds into drawer, while I wait with my hand over my eyes, hanging out my odyssey window as Capt. Kirk screams from the back seat, "THE PAIN! STOP THE PAIN!"

sheeesssshhhhh! but here's the best part, I've only had to go through that scene once. apparently, with the onset of free antibiotics and drive-thru windows, my children are cured! my up-to-this-point-bags-of-bacteria-susceptible-children are suddenly the embodiment of all things hardy and thriving. welcome to my world.

Meijer and the Catch-22 situation

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Fri, 30 Jan 2009 14:26:00 +0000

"all is not gold that glitters."
"not everyone who has a cowl on is a monk."
"all are not cooks that walk with long knives." (personal fav!)
man, I love a good Russian Proverb, don't you?! how about one more, just for kicks and giggles, let's call it a Meijeran Proverb: "not all rooms with toilets are restrooms."

I'll admit it, I'm a "judger." I do judge books by their covers, I do judge people based on first impressions, I do judge Mexican restaurants by their beans, and I do judge stores by their attention to bathroom cleanliness. like it or not, public bathrooms are important to me. why? because until my children are beyond the age of dying-from-public-bathroom-germs (anyone know what age that is?) I won't be able to relax. and I'm a woman attached to one massive, unpredictable bladder...my 4 year old son.

at any given time while shopping at Meijer, I can tell you how far away I am from the nearest Meijer bathroom. I've had to develop this 8th sense (6th, talking to "dead people" aka teenage son and his friends, 7th identifying Meijer crazies) over the years because my children seem to have every digestive tract ailment while at Meijer. yep, everything from public retching to a 3 year old's unholy screams of "my penis is bent!"

now as I've posted before, my Meijer has gone through a serious/extreme make-over. all of the store's sections and the gas pump have been updated, but apparently, restrooms are slated for a phase VI surgery. this is very frustrating because currently Meijer's "daily restroom maintenance plan" relies on their customer demographic to be 99% neat freaks, or that each restroom guest will adhere to some sort of civilized restroom "honor system." in Target, and Walmart I've noticed they have a sign in the restroom asking customers to inform management when the bathroom is not up to standards. here's the handwritten poem(?) I found once taped to the inside of a Meijer bathroom stall: "If you sprinkle while you tinkle, be a sweetie, clean the seatie."

there are two public restrooms at Meijer, west side entrance and east side Meijer eatery. they have two things in common, poor ventilation (ackkk), and plumbing poltergeists. don't know how strong your constitution is, but I get the gags from strangers' overwhelming inner-body smells that make their outer-body exits. the sight and/or sound of someone heaving their stomach contents doesn't make me want to play copycat, it's the odor. yes, there's a reason I didn't follow my mother's and my grandmother's career plan and become a nurse. but, even with how bad the ventilation is, I'm not sure it's as disturbing/disgusting as chronic plumbing issues.

without sounding like an alarmist, I'm pretty sure Hogwarts' Moaning Myrtle lives in the Meijer eatery restroom. every time I walk in, there is a puddle of liquid large enough to cover the entire floor of the only two stalls and then a separate puddle directly in front of the sinks. heaven forbid you should be sporting your Meijer brand flip-flops and mistakenly head into that restroom! you'll either be grossed out by the idea of very runny ectoplasm seeping over your Meijer manicured toes, or the other obvious liquid seeping over your now heebie-jeebie'd toes. shivers and ewww!

so, here I am, in a Meijer induced Catch-22: I must be crazy to frequent the potentially bio-hazardous Meijer restrooms, but on the other hand, I would be a "lifer" in the Meijer Crazy Commune if I were to investigate the severity of a bent penis(!) in the frozen food section.

Meijer and the big idea

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Fri, 23 Jan 2009 02:19:00 +0000

"necessity is the mother of invention." Plato, The Republic.

that is what I call "big 'T' truth." needing something does make the juices in the gray matter flow but so does Waste-ity. see, I think I'm actually a child of the Depression Era. whenever I see something being wasteful or going to waste, I get all I Love Lucy-ified and start thinking of all sorts of clever (read goofy) ways to turn that waste into...non...waste. hmm, it's beginning to sound like I'm talking about sewer or landfill matter, ewww. poo imagery aside, I hate to see things go to waste, but love it when need and waste team up to become The Mutha of invention. Donny Deutsch's studio chaise lounge has hosted plenty of "muthas," and perhaps it's time to make room for me.

so, I've got a Big Idea for Meijer. wanna hear the terribly interesting process that made me come up with my Big Idea? heads nodding? okay, come on!

well, as you know, because I've told you, Michigan has about 5 solid months of winter temperatures. that's point #1. for years now, during each winter, I drive by the massive, fence-enclosed, winter-makes-it-defunct, Meijer Garden Center--frozen, barren, useless. that's point #2.

so, here's my Big Idea that I'm willing to give to Meijer: (fine print--for a mid-five figure idea fee and 12% (just like the number twelve!) of all future gross profits.) outdoor ice skating rink. call it: Skating Under the Stars. or for something more brand-pointed: Meijer's Polar Cap. Meijer, wake up to the money machine sitting out in the wide-open-west parking lot! an outdoor ice skating rink would provide the community with a days-gone-by, Rockefeller Center-esque, winter wonderland attraction. Meijer sells coats, hats, gloves, socks, spandex tights and tutu's (if you're into that kind of skating experience), long-underwear, and even ice-skates! sales of Starbucks coffee would sky-rocket if they would move the existing in-store Starbucks kiosk over to the Garden Center, providing easy access to coffee and cocoa for the chilly skaters. cha-ching! and, heaven forbid, should a mishap occur on the ice, Meijer sells Tylenol, Motrin, and about a zillion different sizes of band-aids. cha-ching, ching!

Meijer is open 24 hours a day, plenty of Midnight Madness skating, and they could re-hire all the phased-out bagboys, creating new jobs and reducing unemployment! and I'm pretty sure Meijer's existing linoleum cleaning "Zamboni" could be used to smooth the ice. Michigan has all the demographics needed for an outdoor ice skating rink. we live in the hockey-mania-heartland, constant profit flow from that demographic. another demographic, lovebirds dying for a better date alternative than a stop at Chipotle and taking in bad, politically- driven Hollywood "entertainment."

and don't be idiotic and ignore the Kristina Yamaguchi/Brian Boitano wannabe demographic. this group would pay any price (and has the ego/desire) to flaunt a toe loop turned into a Lutz, then fake-smile a humble bow to their oblivious fans. oh! the myriad of annoying mountains of bulldozed snow dotting the entire parking lot could be collected to become a sledding feature for families that are split between skating and sledding. ooooo, what about an ice-climbing wall/cliff for the truly adventurous! there you go, two whole new demographics (and merchandise opportunities), take that REI!

so, minds at Meijer, feel free to leave a comment with your contact information, and Mr. Deutsch, I would like dark chocolate green m&m's and cold skim milk in the green room.

Meijer and the battle of the bands

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Fri, 16 Jan 2009 00:43:00 +0000

the age-old dilemma is this: Costco allows me to buy in bulk and store food/toiletries for a few months, but it's soooo easy to spend $400 at Costco, then get home and realize you have to go to Meijer to go grocery shopping!

if grocery stores were rock bands, then Meijer and Costco would be the only "artists" that would get any play time on my ipod. granted, they are completely different music genres, but you can't always listen to alternative/techno 80's music, occasionally you need some old school rock...from the 80's.

side note: I'm not exactly an expert on the whole rock music scene. only went to one concert during my six years of living in Colorado--you know, home of the Red Rocks Amphitheater, where u2's Sunday Bloody Sunday music video was taped. well, the Howard Jones concert (pathetic?) I went to was more than memorable for me. my hair was lit on fire by a drunk friend. I use that word loosely. it was a little difficult to have symmetrical big 80's hair after that, and gather the courage to go to another concert.

so I will be using all my MTV (circa 1983-1989) acquired knowledge to make this post genuine. here's to hoping you care about genuine...

there is definitely an old school rock 'n' roll vibe at Costco, you've felt it right? first, you have to flash your backstage pass (membership card) at the massive entry's bouncer in order to get into the venue: makes me feel giddy with special-ness. once inside Costco, there are huge flat screens of entertainment, the floors are industrial cement, there are wafts of pizza and churros in the air, leather lounge chairs and couches (some with massage capabilities), glass cases of rockin' diamond and gold "bling," and the venue's ceilings are gi-normous, even by gi-normous standards. and then there are the Costco roadies.

the roadies at Costco don't wear red (stretched out or otherwise) golf shirts, they don't wear any type of uniform dictated by "The &%@# Man!" Costco roadies wear the international uniform of rock--jeans and t-shirt. even their id tags are stylin', hanging from a lanyard around their neck, clipped on their crew collar or, my personal favorite, on their jeans' belt loop, old school-like.

the grunge looking, working-to-pay-for-pizza-and-beer roadies walk around the store chill-axing in their orange, glow-in-the-dark safety vests. they hang out at the front of the venue, waiting for a call on the walkie-talkie to heft a Nordic Track treadmill into a waiting van. dude...what an awesome career!

and then there's Meijer. no special back stage pass to enter Meijer! Meijer is a free for all mosh pit, they let anyone in. in fact the more crazy your hair, piercings, tattoos and personality the better! totally rad, man. ceilings aren't quite as gi-normous as Costco, but they are swathed in not-too-white paint, and sport mod, domed, tinted plasti-glass cameras that hang from the ceiling, similar to my favorite college dance club--Plastique! no huge flat screen entertainment as you walk in, Meijer offers several sleek small flat screens throughout the store, showing previews for failing network television shows and the occasional Meijer ad. yeah, blatant 80's consumerism at it's best.

the floors aren't the industrial coolness of cement, just beige flecked linoleum with scuff marks from devoted groupies looking for a deal on potato chips. Meijer doesn't have roadies per se, more like red uniformed Devo-esque worker drones, (Cool-Whip, it good!). Meijer doesn't smell like pizza and churros, but there is an ever-present contemporary smell (off-gassing?)of plastic and metal. however, on a bad winter day the store does take on a complex gut-wrenching smell of mud, wet dog and open 24 hours-a-day body odor. Meijer's cases of "bling" are definitely reminiscent of the alternative rock bands make-up: purple/pink jewel tones surrounded by curious shapes of silvery metal.

so in my little world of grocery bands, do I prefer one group over another? not really. I guess it boils down to this: whether Meijer or Costco, the heart of rock 'n' roll is still beating.

Meijer and the scientific reserve

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Thu, 08 Jan 2009 15:11:00 +0000

FYI: Scientific reserves are smaller (10–100 hectares). They protect ecological groupings, plant or animal communities for scientific study and education. They are ...often used for intensive research or education programmes. (www.teara.govt.nz)

it's a chilly evening and I'm walking/trudging toward Meijer's west entrance. I notice a woman in front of me trying to quickly reach the warm Meijer airlock by doing the Michigan jig of hop-skip-and-a-jump across frozen tire tracks and semi-frozen puddles. I'm fairly impressed since she looks to be 60 years of age. "Nordic blood," I think to myself. I always mutter that when I see feats of winter wonderment; guy that shovels snow in shorts, joggers casually flicking sleet from their eyes, or geezer-before-his-time being warmed by his cigarette on a "smoke break" during a blizzard. Nordic blood, obviously.

back to human Petra Cottontail. I'm keeping up with her and notice that as soon as we reach the airlock, her pace slows, her shoulders slump and her head tilts to one side. "that's odd," I think as I come along side her, ready to offer assistance should it be required. the second set of doors open and I watch as P.C. beckons Meijer greeter to her and in a whispery/raspery (made that one up) voice and sudden arthritic limbs she indicates that she needs a motorized cart. hippity-hoppity say what?!

I grab a cart from the cart corral and head toward the produce section. I was still a bit flabbergasted that people pretend to be stroke victims to avoid using their perfectly healthy legs, just to get a very slow ride around the superstore. is my analytical/scientific mind missing something? what, is this the equivalent of riding the Meijer penny pony for the healthy but lazy geriatric set? maybe putting on an act is just her way of "mixing it up?" or maybe this is a prank; she's a new rushee pledging for some assisted living facility's sorority, Omega Lambda Delta? (Ω Λ Δfor Greek fanatics)

I'm trying to analyze these questions (and more) when I vaguely notice a Meijer customer exit a cashier stall about 100 feet in front of me. he pushes his one-bag-in-the-cart towards my direction about 5 steps, then for reasons unknown to me, stops and mumbles something in frustration, takes his bag out of his cart and leaves his cart perpendicular to the aisle and walks off in a huff. he is literally 95 feet from the cart corral (and he's going to pass the cart corral) but, he has to leave his cart in the middle of a high traffic area.

like a patient Jane Goodall, I watch as more exiting customers 1.) halt at empty cart, 2.) frantically search for owner of obstacle, then, 3.) accept their pitiful plight. repeatedly, the same solution is applied; 4.) carefully maneuver around empty cart. not one subject moved the cart out of the way. from the time it took me to reach the blocking cart I watched this play out 5 times, with the only variable being the occasional swearing angrily at empty cart. (scientific journal note: my deep-seated dedication to science doesn't allow me to interfere by removing this hindrance from people's grocery experience. I'm here to observe and record. sometimes the demands of science aren't palatable, but I've accepted my role as objectionable observer--I mean--objective observer. tee hee.)

perhaps not to be outdone by the other two cases that I have just observed, I happen upon this field observer's gem: upon arriving at the produce section I see a woman plop a $4 clamshell container of blueberries in her at-capacity cart, push her cart over to Meijer's "eatery," stand there for a moment (possibly reflecting on life's intricacies?), then leave her cart and exit the store. I meandered around the produce section for about 10 minutes, subject never returned.

that's what I love about the protected anthro/psych scientific reserve at Meijer, field studies offer so many questions, so many possible answers, and so much material.

Meijer and the holidays

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Fri, 02 Jan 2009 20:22:00 +0000

since my near collision with the Meijer Law, I've decided to take a hiatus from the superstore. I'm hoping the black and white, fuzzy, smeared, xerox'd photos of me carrying a bag of unpaid groceries has been removed from the store's wall of shoplifter shame--well, I guess technically I was an almost shoplifter...who had no intention of shoplifting. oh, whatever.

but I did want to wish you all a belated: Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy?/Merry? Kwanzaa, and a very Happy New Year. woo-hoo 2009!

the vacation is nearly over and I for one am looking forward to the normal long lines at Meijer, the normal 8 out of 32 lanes open and the normal union's disregard for the customer. ahhhh, how I've pined for the normal superstore during this jam-packed, frenzied holiday season.

I was just thinking, it's only 42 days 'til Valentines day, do you think Meijer has yanked Season's Greetings/Happy New Year and has "decked their halls" with pink and red hearts yet?

I'll keep you posted.

oh, Happy Valentine's Day...in advance.

Meijer and the conceited shoplifter

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Wed, 24 Dec 2008 18:44:00 +0000

I have accepted and swallowed--gulp--that my ego has been put in it's place...by Meijer.

okay, keep reading.

perhaps the reason Meijer was so chock full of customers was because it was the last Saturday before Christmas. whatever. the wide-open-west parking lot was still west, but no longer wide open. I finally found a parking space in the "F" section...no comment.

I grabbed two of my Whole Foods reusable grocery bags, pulled on a coat since I had an arctic snow storm trek to endure before I could get inside the 73 degree store, sloshed through leftover gray slush from last night's storm and created a mental stratagem that I would not bring a cart out through this slop: shop light and carry the bags to my car.

I breeze through the first automatic glass door and stumble upon a heretofore never experienced line...inside the airlock. get this, there are no carts to be had and people are standing in line, waiting for someone to give up a cart as they leave the store.

yeah...somehow that scenario just doesn't fit into the paradigm I've adopted through most of my life called, "too impatient to be stupid." I wade through the line of hapless, hopeless, cart-less line waiters (suckers, I chuckle heartlessly to myself), secure in my own muscle power to carry my two or three purchases, I don't need no blankety-blank Meijer cart!

with said reusable grocery bags tucked under my arm, I make my way to the Rice Crispy Treat fixin's aisle, grab the two large boxes of crispies, two large bags of marshmallows (making them for church activity and for home), pile those up on top of each other, smile smugly to myself while again repeating the Yosemite Sam-esque declaration of "not needin' nothin' from noooo-body!"

then I recall that I could use some naan (Indian flat bread and no, I don't mean Native American) and some hummus, and ooooooo, those black seedless grapes look so de-li-ci-oso! grocery stacking tip: grapes don't stack so well.

I stumble over to a pallet of stacked flour, and dump my desired purchases. determined not to give in to Meijer's gauntlet-thrown-down, pathetic attempt to challenge me via a cart fiasco. in the spirit of ingenuity, imagination, pragmatism--what else?--and cleverness, I remove my reusable Whole Foods bag from under my arm and put all my groceries inside the bag!

yay for me! problem solved and I can still fit in a few more groceries! I maneuver through the busy store like, well, like whatever unencumbered metaphor you can come up with on your own. I'm dodging cart collisions, weaving through cart and produce stands, squeezing into meat counter sweet-spots and snatching up items with cat-like reflexes. it's time to check-out, yippee-ki-yay!

now, I like to park in the wide-open-west and use the check-out lanes on the west side of the store, because most Meijer sheep, I mean, customers, park and check-out on the east side of the store. with reusable grocery bag full I head over to the west. I'm smiling, feeling very smart, I even consider waving to the poor fools still waiting for carts, you know trying to do my part to uplift humanity during the holidays.

I see Meijer Tzar staring at me while talking on his Meijer issued cell phone. his stare becomes more intense and his mouth slackens as he looks me up and down (oh yeah, the nearly 40 year old gal's still got it!). I give a slight nod, and a nondescript, closed mouth smile--I'm married, I don't like to encourage such wildly flirtatious behavior from other males--and walk by. I get a little farther on my search for an empty check-out lane, making my way towards the west exit area when Meijer second-in-command-Tzar, on his cell phone, walks by me and gives me the furtive eye! I "reply" with raised eyebrows and a squeamish smile. what? am I ooozing pheromones or something, what is goin' on?!

then, just as I'm nearing the 12 item or less u-scan machines next to the exit, I see Pat (Pat is the name I have given for one of the Meijer House Detectives. Pat is one of those SNL skit personas, not sure if "it" is a male or female), even Pat is giving me "the look!" (cue shivers, I think?) I see "shim" reading a Better Homes and Gardens magazine. I stop at the u-scan machine line while a nagging thought surfaces, "why would Pat care about 26 Holiday Gift Ideas under $20?"

At the same time, I see Head Honcho #2 coming towards me, while giving me a more serious glance. I watch as he walks purposefully to the exit and then just non chalantly paces, cell phone to his ear. I notice him give a slight nod to someone over to the left of me. I follow his line of sight and see Pat pull itself away from BHG, and walk over to the exit. that's when the light bulb blinked on over my big, fat, egoistic head: huh. apparently, I'm not the subject of all men's and men-look-alike's desires, I'm a suspected shoplifter! I think at this point I mentally went from sexy-almost-40-year-old to maligned-low-life-crook...with egg on her humiliated, non-sexy face.

ever a bastion of calm and grace I wait my turn for a u-scan, remove all the items from my grocery bag, scan them, re-bag them, purchase them and with head held somewhat high, walk through the line of cart waiters, and smile at the disbanding sheriff's posse, now ignoring me as I exit into the wide-open-west.

I repeat, gulp.

Meijer and the hope for change

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Wed, 17 Dec 2008 11:57:00 +0000

okay, so what am I supposed to think when Meijer hangs banners from the ceiling declaring, "customer satisfaction" this, or "here to help you" that, complete with attractive Meijer associates with shiny white teeth? these huge posters with their winning smiles and pressed shirts lulls my needy, friendless-without-Meijer soul into a warm fuzzy world devoid of reality. see? see how I've been set up for the latest pulling-hair-out Meijer experience?

is it me? if it's me, let me know...

I've just finished scanning my 12 items, just a quick run into Meijer. I've pressed all the right buttons on the screen to declare that yes, I need cash back--ten dolares, please. just as I select the $10 minuscule rectangle, I recall that I need two 5 dollar bills, one to pay son and the other to pay daughter for contracted yard work. the inner workings of the u-scan machine whirls with cash counting noises as I begin all my lucky rituals (knocking on wood, crossing fingers, doing a $5 rain dance), hoping against hope for my change to shoot out in the form of two $5 bills. after a tense 4 seconds of staring at the machine's cash exit, out pops a single $10 bill.

son of a nutcracker! (love the movie Elf don't you?)

as I roll my eyes and lock my jaw in annoyance, I snatch the money and head toward Meijer's u-scan lackey. I start out with pathetic friendly approach--soft voice, tinge of whininess--"hi, the machine gave me a ten dollar bill, I need two fives." apparently, this u-scan lackey confused "pathetic friendly" with "aggressive hostile." her hands shot up next to her head like I just growled "stick 'em up!" she walks backwards away from me mumbling, "I just came here to help, I don't know nothin'!"

nope, I'm not exaggerating. no literary embellishment; that's what she said. verbatim. as my hapless "victim" backs away from me, it hits me: I have to go to the customer service desk! nooooooo!!!

"what's the big deal," you ask?! it's Saturday my friend, and my quick run into Meijer is about to become an epic journey through the bowels of the customer service underworld! I turn in slow motion toward the customer service area, praying that the line is short and hoping that the Friday night Fondue-ers are not in line with their Saturday morning defiled merchandise return, or that the crazed LOTTO potential winners aren't still trying to decide what numbers to play, or that someone isn't struggling over which seasonal book of stamps to buy: "overtly Christmas" or universal "Happy Holidays." that's the big deal!

after all the above and more take their turns, I step up to the counter, obviously a customer looking for some service. instead of "pathetic friendly," (didn't work out so well last time) I try "upbeat easygoing." with a slight smile, "morning, just need to change this ten into two fives." extend hand with money in a casual, relaxed manner.

again with the "stick 'em up" pose! "I can't do that!" she gasps as she backs away from the counter. completely confused, I inspect the money and pleadingly say, "this came out of your u-scan machine. I just need to change this ten, I need two fives!" Suzy wets-her-pants-a lot, staring at the money in my hand like it's the ebola virus in paper form whispers, "we've been told not to open our registers just to make change." I give the what-in-the-world-is-going-on-here look, to no avail.

she starts to be helpful by saying, "if you buy something..." I just look confused at her while my brain screams, "I just bought over $40 worth of groceries, I need to change this money, not spend it!" I glance over at the other "customer service" associate (hoping someone will cave) and see her drawer open. I jump at the chance, pointing like a tattling child I blurt out, "her drawer is open, get the two fives from her!" Suzy perplexed-into-non-action-a lot turns her head, stares at the open drawer, waits till the drawer closes and says, "sorry, can't help you." my exasperation turns ugly and I get loud. "are you kidding me?! I JUST WANT CHANGE!!" yes, I know my contextual usage was incorrect, but at that point I was beyond caring about proper Queen's English. oh, acoustical note: it's amazing how well an echo can carry in a warehouse-like store.

Meijer associate ignores my tantrum and signals next person in line to take my spot. sympathetic person in line waves me over, "try the bank over by produce, maybe they are open." totally dejected, yet still harboring ill feelings to all red-shirted people, I wait in line at the rented-space-in-Meijer bank for the only cashier to stop eating her lunch, unlock the half-door/gate thingy, walk through, lock the half-door/gate thingy, straighten her name tag, look at the line and ask "may I help someone?" like she can't understand why there are so many people watching her every move.

Hope for Change, Hope for Change. if only I could craft a whole grassroots driven campaign against the minds at Meijer based solely on that phrase... hmmm, maybe in 2012.

Meijer and the 2008 black friday update

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Thu, 11 Dec 2008 12:39:00 +0000

first, let me say that unlike past years, this year I just wasn't feeling the black friday love. my normal awake at 3:30am because I'm so excited about the deals, slipped into 5:30 am. I stumbled into the car, armed with my prioritized list and found myself near the Wal-Mart parking lot. that's right, near. I could only get near the parking lot since the entire 15 acres of parking lot was filled! being half an hour late to the bf party put me at a distinct disadvantage. the cashier lane lines were so long and packed so tight, I couldn't even get passed them to get to the toy department. I turned around and left, my mood becoming more Scrooge like at an alarming rate.

had better luck at Target, Old Navy and Michael's and at 7am with my outlook shifting from "bah humbug" to "Happy Holidays," I decided to make a stop at the heretofore dreaded Meijer. with what I had already experienced at Wal-Mart and Target, I was bracing for the worst...

the first thing I noticed as I walked into Meijer was how quiet it was--too quiet; eerily quiet, ghost town quiet, deathly quiet, library quiet, graveyard quiet, calm before the storm quiet, lecture on "why Latin is a dead language" quiet. (side note: you ever notice how repeating a word over and over can make it sound strange? I just realized the same applies to typing a word over and over--quiet suddenly looks strange.)

I grab one of the dozens of carts from the corral and make my way to the electronics corner. no compelling urge to hurry, no worries about angry backlashes for accidentally bumping into a fellow bf-er. electronics is empty save one english-is-my-second-language Indian and one Meijer associate trying to communicate through loud-speak, "I SAID WE WILL NOT MATCH COMPETITOR'S PRICES ON BLACK FRIDAY!" (I know. he's not deaf. volume won't make him suddenly understand) and vehement ad pointing. I casually saunter up to the untouched bin of jump drives--1 item per customer limit--and fling one into my empty cart. whoop-de-do!

I pass a Meijer associate guarding/standing near a stack of flat screen tv's for $250. I pause and look at the stack. while I read the box details, I notice the associate raise her eyebrows in hopeful anticipation, ready and willing to fling a tv into my cart if I so desired. as it was, I did not desire. I looked at her, shrugged my shoulders and moved on. visibly crushed, associate tries a new sales tactic by rearranging the tv boxes into a stack more feng shui appealing.

my black friday purchases at Meijer consisted of one jump drive for $4.99, 3 pillows for $10, 3 pack of tape for $1.50, 1 bag of 50 count bows for $2.00, Goody hairbands for 50% off, and a 3 roll pack of wrapping paper for 50% off. that was it. I'll say it again, without the sarcastic exclamation point and emphatic italic font: whoop-de-do.

Meijer and the Casablanca ending

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Fri, 05 Dec 2008 15:00:00 +0000

per my 23July2008 post, I mentioned we had built a house. we bought our original cottage (that sounds nicer that it was) in spring of 1999. it was a 1000 sq./ft home, built in 1947, sitting on just under an acre of property. when my husband and I first toured the, ahem--house, we thought the same thing, love the land/location, HATE the house.

well, we lived in that one bathroom (absolute disaster when the clay sewer line fell apart), leaky roof, musty crawl space, anciently wired (Ben Franklin technology), literal holes in the wall, oven in the summer, freezer in the winter, place for 7 years. our solace during those years were the 20+ mature shade trees, our very own "on goldfish pond," and planning/researching the best options for building...some day.

a bit hard to imagine how Meijer fits into this post, isn't it?

november 2006:

it's 8:45 am, my builder has just told me the sections of our home would arrive later that afternoon, but they still didn't have a big enough empty lot to "store" the sections of our home overnight.

see, all those years of planning and research led us to the modular home. no, not a mobile home, but a modular home. a modular home is built in sections (5 in our case), built indoors, wrapped, and all sections are delivered to the building site. just a few of the benefits are: no building materials damaged/delayed by weather, amazingly short construction period (from the day we signed the loan documents to the day we moved in was 5 months!), at arrival/assembly the home is 85% complete (reducing number of sub-contractors to deal with) and it is a very energy efficient home.

6 stressful hours later, my builder called. "we've found a lot to store the sections, we'll see you at 8am tomorrow to set your house!" soooo relieved, I head to Meijer to buy all of the food for our "assembling the house party" we are hosting for our neighbors, friends and home building workers. that particular Meijer jaunt was the stuff of legends. I flew through the gi-normous store, buzzed through the check-out lane, dodged cars in the parking lot like a vintage game of frogger, stuffed my car with noisy, plastic-thin bags of groceries and pointed my honda towards the nearest exit, Meijer's wide-open-west parking lot. giddy up!

sccrrreeeech! (supposed to be the literary equivalent of the sound my brakes made when I spasmodically double-footed the brake pedal. I'm clarifying because the "ch" sound at the end of the word just doesn't quite ring true with the actual sound of my brakes--and as you know, I'm all about literary integrity. tee hee!)

a deluge of amazement, shock, difficult to breathe-ness, (and that slight quiver/cold feeling I get when all my blood inexplicably attempts to squeeze into my pinky toe) broke out over my already frazzled nervous system. this is what caused my Treasure Island-like apoplexy...

of all the parking lots in all the towns in all the world, my house parks at Meijer.

who knows, maybe there's still time for a beautiful friendship...maybe.

Meijer and the Thanksgiving Eve perspective

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Wed, 26 Nov 2008 22:23:00 +0000

since this is the Thanksgiving Day eve post, I'll admit that I'm thankful for a Meijer type store. for all my playful teasing, and often scathing criticism of Meijer, the superstore is finally living up to it's super-ness (disclaimer: aesthetically speaking).

now that the proverbial "swelling" from the Marsha makeover has subsided, it's clear that frumpy Jan has been given the heave ho. get this! obese cashier sporting the not-supposed-to-be-a-belly-button shirt has lost 145 pounds! snaps to him, snap, snap, snap...

yep, this atypical wave of gratitude swells over me this time of year, and the times when I see a newbie foreigner walk into the store. it's often a misty-eyed experience for me.

no, that wasn't sarcasm!

a young-ish woman (I'm guessing Chaldean) walks in with what appeared to be her entire adult family; parents, grandparents, aunt/uncle (leave anyone out?) et al. the family clan hesitantly steps through the airlock closest to the produce section. she eagerly gestures for them to stand next to her and in her best Vanna White reveals the massive fruit and veggie department. a few swooned (no lie), grasping the others by the arm. others clapped their hands together in a worshipful manner, and murmured thankful prayers then and there. pseudo-Vanna beamed, obviously so pleased she could be the bearer of good news.

whenever I stand before Meijer's "Great Wall of Bread" fretting over a decision between split top white, buttermilk split top white, sandwich white, potato or italian (not to mention the wheat, wheat/white, and multi-grain varieties), I think of my son's social studies textbook. he was studying Russia's history, specifically the decades of communism. that section of the textbook is illustrated with black and white photos documenting the vast lines of people--not waiting for Elvis tickets--but waiting for bread, any bread.

so, when I complain/criticize Meijer for having an inordinate amount of wax paper but nada in the parchment paper department, or when I stomp my foot in frustration because the aluminum foil roaster pans look like they've been mangled in a cockfight, or when I get upset that all of the 16 pound turkeys (had to look up that plural) are gone and now I have to buy a behemoth turkey, please chalk it up to the petty side of my human nature and childish venting.

nobody is more aware than me that life without Meijer would be less colorful, less humorous and less errand-running efficient. besides, a blog about Costco? yeah, right.

a very Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours!

Meijer and the black friday

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Thu, 20 Nov 2008 12:05:00 +0000

yep, I'm one of those.

come on, is it really so wacko to google freshly leaked black friday ads, create an excel file to compare 10 different store's sales, use about $12 worth of black ink printing out lists, map out a plan A and plan B driving route, synchronize watches and collect cell phone numbers of your fellow bf (black friday) posse, eat a huge Thanksgiving meal, then wake up at 3:30 the next morning to stand in the freeze-your-bum-off Michigan environs?

hmmm, when written out like that it does seem to fall in the weird column. but--it's tradition! (shouted in a Tevye-esque voice)

now, as to the title of this post, I know what you're thinking: if Meijer is the superstore, as chronicled, then why is she black friday-ing (I've verbed for you) 10 different stores?!

admittedly, it does seem hypocritical. as the superstore is an "open 24 hours" store (allowing one to wait inside @ 3:30am), inventory includes toys, electronics, clothes, "furniture," tools, dvd's, music, pet gear, and groceries--a snack while you wait. so why do I avoid Meijer on the day of days?

one word: 2005.

oh...I guess that's three words; two-thousand-five. or is it one number...?

day after thanksgiving, aka, black friday 2005:
how smart am I? it's 4:45am, I'm inside Meijer, snacking on a bag of entenmann's glazed chocolate pop'ems waiting for the 5am "start" of black friday's sales. I've got my cart filled with presents, I'm feeling pretty smug that this one haul makes me 75% done with Christmas shopping! waa-hoozle!

I'm standing in line for just one electronic item, taking in the whole holiday season/spirit oozing all around me. granted, Meijer's signage of season's greetings and my child-like Christmas glow are the only evidence of oozing Christmas spirit, but I'm determined to make up for all the early morning grinches around me. I munch and watch as the aisles become a fire marshal's nightmare, what with my fellow bf-ers (black friday-ers) sporting their puffy parkas, carts spilling over with potential Christmas morn delight, and "choice item" lines snaking through nearly every aisle Meijer has to offer.

after my second (okay, fifth) pop'em, I glance at the time and realize there is only 8 minutes left 'til official Meijer Black Friday Sale begins! that's when I felt it; an ever-so-slight disturbance in the force. you know the feeling, a sense of impending doom, but indefinite and obscure. this "flex" in the force reminded me of the time in college when my friend and I were in an overly-packed elevator. just before we dropped 6 floors to the basement I remember reading the OTIS elevator capacity warning: NOT TO EXCEED 10 PERSONS. I have a vague memory of looking at Scott and saying, "we're over capacity." as if on cue, the elevator doors opened about 8 inches, allowing all 18 boxed-up humans to watch as floors 6 through lobby whizzed by. ahh, the glory days...

but I digress. it wasn't long before the cause of my sixth sense presented itself--plasma! apparently, there was an awesome deal on 21.6" plasma tvs. not needing/wanting a 21.6" plasma tv, I was oblivious to the mortal danger I had sashayed into, all the while humming jingle bells and popping donuts like they were...pop'ems.

quick bf background for you: every year around 4:59 and 45 seconds, there's a group of people that jump out of their cars and run into a store, thinking they can by-pass the suckers that have waited in line for hours. some make it in with just angry howls and non-Christmas-like four letter words ringing in their ears. as I witnessed on bf 2005, others wished four letter words were the cause of their ears ringing.

the beginning of the line for the plasma merchandise was directly in front of the stack of "limited quantity, only 1 per customer" boxed tvs. the associates were stacking the boxes right until 4:59:50, when some yahoo (the Gulliver's Travels kind, not the internet company kind) came up, ignoring the stunned line-waiters, and pulled off one of the coveted goods. and so did his buddy.

well, as you can imagine, the long-arm of the Meijer Law came to the rescue in the form of two way-too-slender-to-handle-even-fourth-graders associates who were immediately shoved aside by the much larger, more tattooed and more prison scarred than said Meijer associates. right about then, the force went from "disturbed" to blatantly psychotic.

human shrieks and screams, followed up with dogpiles of fist-fights are unnerving enough, but when box-cutters flash in the glow of incandescent lighting, that's when I beat a path to the exit. I'm trying to grab my phone from my layers of winter wear when I realize some cooler head is way ahead of me. uniformed police officers run by, hands on holsters. I look up at the myriad of tinted, half-domed cameras dangling from the ceiling, understanding that Meijer's crack in-house SWAT team was on the job.

the "incident" didn't make news. not sure if these "black friday shoppers gone wild" stories are passe to news producers, or if after the messy, frighteningly gruesome fact, the indefatigable Christmas Spirit prevailed.

happy bf-ing!

Meijer and the fuel facade

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Fri, 14 Nov 2008 02:41:00 +0000

see, when my local "Meijer-Jan Brady" store got her "Meijer-Marsha Makeover," they forgot to remedy Jan's gas problem--the gas station, that is.

my previous visits to the Meijer gas station proved that Jan was showing her age. the gas price sign's plastic numbers weren't translucent and crisp, more on the opaque and yellowing side. and to add insult to injury, upside down 5's were being used to try and pass off as 2's. I know...sad.

on and outdoor sign (advertising specials inside the gas station's mini-mart), I even saw two lower case o's trying to fool me into believing they were zeroes. they looked like shocked eyeballs wondering when their pupils would return.

Jan's gas voice was a bit nerve racking too. you see, most gasoline consumers under the age of, let's say 68 years of age, choose to pay for gas at the pump, side stepping the mini-mart. well, I'm not sure if the minds at Meijer like this idea so much. it really ruins their twinkie, hot dog, doritos, beef jerky, and diet coke sales. I've learned to ignore handwritten scrawls scotch taped to the gas pump stating that I have to go inside to get my receipt, or signs that say debit card payers have to go inside, and even dire warnings written in blood red that say DON'T IGNORE THIS SIGN! yep, color me savvy.

so, when it was obvious that the signs were being ignored, Jan found her angry voice. angry voice bellows over the loud speakers attached to the tip-top of the extra-high gas pump carports, which then reverberate off all the steel frames and cement, making it impossible to tell which poor sucker has evoked the wrath of frumpy, gassy Jan. so, while angry voice screeches incomprehensible gibberish, each customer assumes angry voice is telling someone else to enter the mini-heart-attack-mart.

but no more! as I drove toward Meijer I was immediately awed by the transformation. a brand new electric, billboard-ish, signage informed me (in red, light-bright-type lightbulbs, featuring perfectly square cornered numbers) that regular gas was $1.999 and premium was $2.199!

by the way, what's with all the 9's? is gasoline sprinting to the finish line and needs the extra thousandth of a point to insure its win? sheeeshhh.

I pulled in to fancy pants' station, and admired the sign. filled with giddy hope for a brand new gas experience, (maybe the gas will smell different? tee hee) I opened my car door and immediately my ears were accosted with reverberating, loudspeaker static, angry voice.

after taking note that no one even flinched, much less walked in to the mini-triple-by-pass-mart, I felt a little pang of pity for Jan. for after all, it's true what they say; gassy beauty is only skin deep.

Meijer and the petting zoo

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Tue, 11 Nov 2008 19:02:00 +0000

so, it's been about 5 years since I've been to the Detroit zoo. to assume I'm a card carrying PETA activist wouldn't be accurate, but you shouldn't chalk it up to blatant laziness either.

I was one of the concerned humans that helped force the zoo to relocate the poor equatorial-climate-Asian elephants that were living in Detroit's colder-than-a-witch's-teat "elephant yard." I use the word yard loosely...also, the word living.

no, I've discovered there is another option to trekking down to 9 mile to watch sleepy "wildlife" muddle through their monotonous habitat or worse yet, sling poo at naive observers. yep, somewhere between the South African Kruger wildlife reserve's 2 million hectares and Petco's 1 cubic foot adopt-a-cat crate, lies a happy medium: Meijer--the superstore.

my discovery of Meijer's unofficial zoo "bonus" occurred to me a few months ago. let's start with the obvious--goldfish. my Meijer sells all the guppy and goldfish varieties your little heart pines for, but my Meijer has something that I'm pretty sure your grocery store doesn't have--the fish guy. this associate lets my pre-schooler throw a pinch of food in the tank, corner a fish with the net and let him touch the "ones that like to float on the top!" my son politely declines--by shaking his head vigorously and hiding his hands in his pockets.

after that macabre stop, we usually wander over to the next spectacle on the Meijer wildlife tour--lobster tank. Meijer's maniacally laughing fish monger/butcher shuffles over to the lobster tank at our approach, snatches the lobster rake and shouts out, "choose your victim!" once again, my son is cajoled/coerced into touching the rubberbanded crustacean, while it impotently thrashes its threatening intentions. again, horrified human declines.

my little animal lover becomes confused (possibly scarred for life?) when hairy, Armenian guy offers to let him "pet" his furry panther tattoo on his forearm. and I know I've been scarred when I had to reach to the back of the shelf for a Meijer 8 pack of hot dog buns only to have one of Meijer's wildlife scurry across my hand. imagine my embarrassment when I realized that screaming "a mouse ran across my hand!" followed up with a fit of shivers/convulsions wasn't the correct petting zoo response.

Meijer--doing its part in the fight for wildlife conservation.

Meijer and the darwin effect

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Sat, 08 Nov 2008 20:30:00 +0000

a little Meijer evolution history for you...if you'll recall, Meijer deleted the "bagger" personnel from it's workforce. cashiers now get the opportunity to scan your groceries and bag them. then, Meijer opened the "12 items or less u-scan," in effect deleting several cashiers. and now, Meijer has evolved to the "no limit u-scan," eliminating even more human-like cashiers.

the accountants at Meijer have decided that reducing cashiers (I'm extrapolating here, but just go with it) means reducing costs. the trouble is, more-than-12-items-customers don't want to work with machines, which means very long lines at the human-ish cashiers and emptiness down at automation alley.

I thought my experience with the well-oiled machine put me off the no limit u-scans for life, but thanks to the minds at Meijer, I've had to purge old habits and acquire new ones--I'm being forced into evolution!

or am I?

so there I am, short on time but long on Meijer lines. I've got at least 40 items in my cart and my 4 year old asks me, "when are we going home?!" no lines at the no limit u-scan area. I take a deep breath screech to a stop next to the conveyor belt and start scanning. my items are careening down the roller section. the dogpile of pitted olives, honeycrisp apples and 4% milkfat cottage cheese triggers an all-too-familiar stress migraine. I rush over with my eco-friendly grocery bags (from Whole Foods by the way, tee hee!) and try to get a start on bagging before I scan the next 37 items.

I stuff in the apples, olives, cottage cheese, then I reach for the kosher hot dogs (not jewish, just love 'em), the refrigerated pickle spears, 1/3 less fat cream cheese and that's when it hit me...I didn't scan these items! I look to my left to see my 4 year old searching for the "stripes" (youngster speak for UPC code), scan the package of sushi nori and plop it onto the automated conveyor belt.

a slight shiver of scientific euphoria ripples through my nervous system. I have passed my beat-Meijer-at-all-costs DNA to my son! he has adapted and adopted the necessary skills to survive all life-squelching curveballs thrown at him by my nemesis! images of my grocery scanning wunderkind and all his glorious, technicolor-animated DNA helices featured on the Discovery Channel, flash across my mind.

as I'm standing there stunned/proud, my peripheral vision catches the expression on the face of one of the few surviving Meijer cashiers.

the realization of her species' impending extinction causes a hideous, twisted smile to crack across her face. she croaks, "isn't--that--precious? he--knows--how--to--scan!" followed by a high pitched cackle, I mean, nervous laugh. I fully expected her to swoop down and chew-up my little cherub cashier. suddenly, cerebral Discovery Channel images are replaced with Animal Planet atrocities. specifically, the scene where the new, conquering alpha lion eats the young of the old, maimed alpha lion!

with survival mode in full swing, an adrenaline rush enables us to check-out in record time; preserving my offspring's ability to out-smart Meijer, and hopefully, pass this genetic information on and on and on.

consider me and mine, darwinism at its best.

Meijer and the superstore addiction

noreply@blogger.com (tracinell) — Fri, 12 Sep 2008 15:19:00 +0000

I'm sure by now you've caught on to my sanity destructive relationship with Meijer.

to sum up, this connection I have with Meijer seems to follow a cheesy "daytime drama" where the powerless coke (not the cola variety) addict clings to her abusive, life-power sucking boyfriend that keeps giving her coke so he can just kick her around and take money from her.

maybe not quite like that--well, yeah, maybe, kinda', sorta like that--but without all of the "heroin chic" imagery. you see the deep, ugly, twisted root of my Meijer-use problem is the undeniable fact that Meijer is the superstore!

perhaps to a Meijer-free citizen, my "superstore" argument smacks alot like a junkie in denial trying to blame the drug for all her problems, and thus, refusing to take responsibility. the whole "walks like a duck, quacks like a duck--quack, quack, quack" adage is dancing through your brain.

but please, I beg of you, hear me out before you host an intervention or worse, throw me into Kroger rehab.

first let me admit that I hate being a Meijer user. I hate the union induced customer-can-take-a-flying-leap treatment I get. I hate the pounding headaches I get from the incessant, forced "friendly banter" from cashier Peppy-Anne. I hate that the store is sooooo humongous that my "run-in" for milk, turns into a National Geographic-worthy trek expedition. I hate that, according to Meijer, it's Halloween right now and in just a few weeks Meijer will force me into a Christmas-stress meltdown!

but on the other hand, I need Meijer. I'm weak, I know, I know...I soooooo know!

if anything is to blame for my Meijer addiction, it's the cost of gasoline. I can't afford to drive all over three towns to aquire my needs at WalMart, Kroger, Costco, Target and Home Depot! and don't even try to sweetly slip in a suggestion about weaning myself off Meijer and on to a Hollywood Market or a Whole Foods! entire monthly grocery budgets have been blown in one visit to those stores--can you say expensive to the point of ridiculous?! how am I supposed to buy a quick snack for my son at Whole Foods cut-up fruit bar for $7.99/lb. when I know at Meijer I can get the same fruit for $4.49/lb and then run to Meijer's hardware section and buy a can of Rust-o-leum eucalyptus green spray paint?

ugh. I despise "giving in" and I loathe Oprah-like empowerment strategies, but perhaps I should spin my addiction as something positive...

I'll be accepting any/all suggestions.