Mother nature roared last night, spitting hail and blustering mightily, clearing the three bitches of the last of the dead wood entangled in their expansive limbs. I refer of course to the three large and perpetually messy Silver Maples that grow on my property. They are dirty old gals most of the year, shedding dried limbs and branches all winter, dropping masses of buds early in spring, followed by swarms of helicopters that seek out even the smallest gap or crevice from which they germinate, sprout and clog gutters. But finally they put on their party dress; sprout their leaves and shade us gloriously for the next 6 months, until they are once again able throw off their now tired gowns and settle into winter slumber, leaving me to perform the final gathering in of the brown and wilted remnants.
What does this have to do with Costco? Not much, except to say that the drop in temperature and increase in wind conspired to keep me from taking a bike ride over lunch. Instead I decided to make a Costco run in the hope that I could avert any COVID induced delays.
It was a different Costco.
I recently criticized Costco for moving their carts from one side of the entrance to the other, thereby inducing a virtual demolition derby scenario. You remember the figure 8 track where the racers have to cross in the middle. Well, that's no longer the case. The nursery section has been erected in between the entrance and exit resulting in veritable wall of potted rose bushes, a thorny barrier, separating the empty carts moving in from the full carts moving out. A maze constructed out of stacks of wooden palettes strategically placed provides a queuing area from which we the sheeple patiently observe the proscribed social distancing while waiting for our turn to enter. Homeland Security would be proud. An attendant serves out the carts as we finally make it to the staging area just outside the entrance. And then your moment finally arrives. The input door attendant gives you an almost imperceptible nod that signals...
You can come in now. It's your turn.
It may not have even been a nod, but rather a simple tightening of the face muscles. Nevertheless, recognizing the gesture, I gratefully steered my cart across the threshold while presenting my credential where wide empty lanes greeted me. Mask wearing shoppers warily pushed their carts here and there but gone were the nitwits who inevitably find the narrowest choke point in which park their cart while they venture off in search of some or the other commodity. That was a pleasant surprise although, unfortunately, many of the items that would have normally been stocked in abundance were missing. The effective sovietization of Amerika was especially noticeable in the produce refrigerator; where once stood a cornacupicx island surrounded by walls of fresh produce there was now a wide open expanse of cement, the walls lined by a severely diminished selection. Still, only one or two of the items on my list were unattainable, but I compensated by purchasing several items that weren't planned for. I am grateful for the abundance we still enjoy.
I completed my circuit [one always shops Costco in a circuit] and took by place at the nearest yellow tape line on the floor of the check-out, eschewing the self-check, preferring to let Priscilla do the heavy lifting, safely ensconced as she was behind her plexiglas shield. She is truly one of the heroes of COVID.
All in all not an altogether unpleasant experience. Less items, more room to move. Longer wait to get in, shorter wait to check out. And fortunately, my forward looking wife had already stocked up on the toilet paper.
Costco, as always, has risen to the challenge
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