Whining, Wine-ing & Winning

Oh man. I have so much to say about this topic, but me being me, I’m going to spiral a little off subject. I’m scatterbrained and don’t tend to follow all the rules… I wonder where my daughter gets it?

During the pandemic, I managed a grocery store—Dillon’s (Kroger) in Kansas. I should say I was grateful to be considered “essential,” but it was probably the worst experience in my employment history. People were terrible and rude. (I’m sure they were freaked out), then you had a handful who treated you like they actually appreciated you for existing.

I remember the Goverment shut down like it was yesterday. Getting that call from our district manager for a mandatory staff meeting was terrifying. No one knew what to expect. No one knew if they’d have jobs, or if they’d even be well enough to come to work. Being labeled “essential” and staying open for the community felt like a privilege… until it didn’t.

The day before quarantine was like a bad dream. If you’ve ever gone grocery shopping like a slacker the day before Thanksgiving, or had to run back for one thing and walked into a madhouse… it was like that—but a million times worse.

Shelves were EMPTY. And I mean EMPTY for weeks… months. We were out of everything from toilet paper to SPAM because distributors were out too. People would ask if we could “check the back,” like we had our own little grocery store factory with magic Corona Virus elves working back there. There was nothing in the back room. Nothing. I had never seen it like that before—usually we were out of space from incoming trucks.

Then came the new rules. Social distancing signs. One-way arrows down aisles. And of course, the Karen calling to let me know no one was following them—as if I could control humans like a police officer while being extremely short staffed and trying to run a grocery store that is not, in fact, an adult daycare.

But I listened. In my calm, customer-service, not trying to sound like a sarcastic asshole voice, I’d say:

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I’ll make sure we do a better job monitoring this.”

Then the mask mandate. I’m not even going to go all the way there… but let’s just say: I didn’t want to wear one either, Susan. But it was a county law, and somehow I was responsible for making sure everyone followed it—even though I knew the second they left my sight, it was coming right back off… and Karen would be sure to call and let me know all about it.

I don’t want to go on and on about the bad, because there was good too. People—mostly our regulars—would go out of their way when they saw us struggling. They brought snacks, Starbucks, and kind words while we were on our 15th-13 hour shift (in a row). The kind of gestures that hit you right in the chest.

And then there was one man. I won’t mention his name because I don’t have his permission, but he called after one of those days where I was ready to throw my hands up and walk out.

In the calmest voice, he said, “Our community is very grateful for the hours your team is putting in, and we’d like to show that. My restaurant can’t open, so I’d like my staff to come cater for yours this week. Is that something we can arrange?”

UMMMM… WHAT? I cried. Full-on cried. I’m sure he heard it in my voice, because he doubled down and made sure I knew we deserved it. And he meant it. We wrote him a letter. Sent flowers. But it still didn’t feel like enough.

I went back to restaurants about a year after all of this. My degree is in hospitality, and retail was never going to be my friend. I’ll tell you this… there was plenty of wine-ding down during that chapter of my life.