The parking lot was a little on the crowded side, but I got lucky, found a space without trouble, and didn’t think anything of it.
I noticed that a few of the shelves were less than overstocked, but I didn’t have any problem finding what I wanted and I chalked up the disorder to Saturday evening low staffing.
Then I went to check out.
I’m telling you, Kiddo, I have never seen lines like that at the grocery store. Never.
Every single register was open. Self-checkout was available at both ends of the store. And the lines were stacked at least 8 carts deep.
I chose to wait in the self-checkout lane. And wait. And wait. Literally, 6 minutes. More than 360 seconds. In other words, forever.
After I’d bagged and paid, I asked the woman in charge of the self-checkout area why it was so crowded. (You have to read her answer with a twang.) “Someone hollered ‘snow.’”
Someone hollered “snow.”
First of all, I checked the weather forecast when I got home and there was a possibility of snow. In three days. Mixed with rain. Not accumulating.
Secondly, when we get snow, we generally get an inch or two at most. Then the streets get plowed and we go about our business. We don’t get snowed in for weeks at a time.
And even if it takes a day to get the streets clear, don’t most people have a bit of food in the house already? I don’t understand this panic to stock up on supplies the very minute someone thinks one snowflake might flutter down.
(To clarify: I was shopping because I do a terrible job of planning and Dad couldn’t find the yogurt I asked for when he went to the store a few days before. I was not there because I was suffering from Frozen Vortex Anxiety.)