But yesterday I made a quick trip to get a few things, swinging through the produce section on my way to the checkout, knowing I'd be back tomorrow for the marathon trip where I drop upwards of $300 to feed my family for 2 weeks. I remember to stop at the raisins and dried cranberries section (my kids love those dried cranberries! go Mom!). And as I stoop down to pick up a box I notice something so unexpected and nasty I back away quickly, hoping I'm imagining this. Surely, not at my Meijer! I skitter to the checkout lanes, trying to put it out of my mind.
So today, back I go again to your vast acreage of everything from light bulbs to towels to milk to hummus to hamburgers. I follow my well-worn path around the grocery wing. Ending, as I always do, in the produce section. I think to myself, I'm just going to take a peek under the cranberries and raisins. I'm sure they cleaned that up! I'm sure 5 minutes after I left they had some hard working teenagers (or, perhaps, trained professionals with Hazmat suits) wielding mops and orange cones cleaning that #### up.
Think again, Carmen, think again. Over 24 hours later, here is what I found.
What is this? I've narrowed it down to dead birds or decaying, rotten, soggy, corn on the cob (which was in season, what, late last summer?) Oh Meijer, what kind of funk have you been hiding 'neath your displays lo these many years? I feel like I don't even know you anymore! Sure we've had our issues, but this! this I don't know if I can get past. We've had a good run, you and I. Oh? You have something to say?
Seriously? You think reminding me of your shopping cart cup holder (that so snugly and perfectly fits my Grande-Iced-Toffenut-Latte-with-Whip from Starbucks) is going to salvage this relationship? OK, you might be right. We've never had a problem with that part of our relationship.
But the point remains. You are going to have to clean up your act. If you want to keep me you need more OPEN checkout lanes, and for crying out loud, do something about the furnace-like heat that awaits me while I wait (and wait and wait) to pay for my groceries which increases my core body temperature by 10 degrees. And stop moving stuff around. Seriously. Pick a spot and stick to it. Remember when the hygiene stuff was NEXT to the grocery aisles? Now it's on the other side of the store. Put it back. And tell your cashiers not to carry on political discussions with the people ahead of me in line while my 2 year-old does laps around the adjoining empty lane. Oh yes, I could go on and on. But first and foremost, clean up the dead birds under the raisins and cranberries.
Sincerely,
Carmen
