Did I say about two days after Hammett died that I was at peace and focusing on the pleasant memories of his relaxed, affection-filled life? I must have been still in shock. There continue to be frequent tears, when some memory of him comes clearly back, when it hits me again that he is gone. Soon after his death, I got a condolence card from his vet’s office (and also a condolence card from my parents and one from Carol-Joy). Quite recently, I got another card, from San Francisco Aid for Animals, saying a donation had been made in Hammett’s name by his vet’s office. I liked that. Sort of like a birthday celebration that goes on for a month, except not like that at all.
One night when I was raining tears over him, I texted his sitter to ask her not to forget him. It seemed unbearably painful that this loss that is so huge for me should barely register for most everyone else on earth. She texted back that she wouldn’t. “How could I forget Hammett? He was a good boy.” That was surprisingly comforting. I felt better knowing that at least one person who actually knew him will remember him with me. She was undoubtedly his second-best friend.
Today’s trip to Rainbow was surprisingly great. I have little cloth bags filled with lavender that sit on top of my piles of handkerchiefs. (How many handkerchiefs do I have? A lot!) The lavender makes the top handkerchief in each pile smell good. I was thinking I might replace the lavender one of these days, and figured that would have to wait until the virus is over however many years from now. But no, Rainbow had packaged up lavender flowers, along with other absolute essentials from the bulk departments.
There was still no toilet paper, but there was also packaged-up sage. In case you need to drive the memory of Donald Trump’s voice or whatever out of your place, you can. I appreciate that Rainbow has their priorities straight.
There were bay leaves packaged up for the first time. There are many things that were always packaged, and I am sure bay leaves are among them, but whereas I could see buying a little bottle of cinnamon or dried ginger, buying one bay leaf in a little bottle for two dollars didn’t seem appealing, though I didn’t even go look at them. Maybe it wasn’t really like that, but it doesn’t matter, because now I have a big handful of bay leaves from the bulk section.
They also had my favorite kind of olives packaged up, which they usually don’t, and my favorite kind of hand sanitizer (EO lavender gel) was back after many weeks. I don’t need much hand sanitizer at the moment. (And have never really used it in the past.) I wear gloves at work, and at Rainbow. But maybe someday I might want to go into Walgreens and buy some cotton balls. I won’t want to use a precious pair of gloves for that. Using hand sanitizer after exiting the store will be just the thing.
I’ve saved the best, and also the most annoying, news for last. Whereas I have been waiting in line outside Rainbow for about 45 minutes before being able to enter, today I found the line about one third the usual length, and it moved along extremely quickly. I barely had time to open my magazine before I was at the door. I asked the worker there if they were doing something different, but she said they weren’t.
When I got to the checkout line, another worker told me what the difference was: Instacart’s app was down! I was thrilled, but steamed. There are two different lines outside, one for Instacart shoppers and one for regular people. They take turns letting in a person from each line. I did register that there was no Instacart line today, which was odd; I could not immediately come up with an explanation and gave it no further thought.
You might think that, since they alternate between the lines, it would be twice as fast without the Instacart people, but it was more like four times as fast. My theory is that the hired shoppers are buying lots and lots of stuff, and since they are unfamiliar with the store, it takes them an extraordinarily long time to locate the desired items. The nature of the store might make it harder, too. Like, if someone sends you to Safeway to get Cool Whip and a can of Planter’s peanuts, easy enough. But I spoke a couple of weeks ago with a hapless Instacart shopper who had been asked to get long-grain organic brown rice. He was completely perplexed.
So, anyway, now that I know that I am spending at least 35 extra minutes standing outside Rainbow every week so that some rich person can keep doing fun things at home, I’m annoyed. This is the note I sent Rainbow after I got home:
Wow! I was just there and it took a fraction of the time it has been taking lately. Whereas I have been waiting in line for approx. 45 minutes to get into the store, today it was 10 minutes or less--because Instacart's app was down, evidently. It made me wish there could be special Instacart-only hours, because it is now clear that not only does the client pay however much for the service, the rest of us are contributing a substantial amount of (uncompensated) time in support of the Instacart client's convenience.
Having said that, I realize some people absolutely need Instacart. I have no way of knowing what percentage of clients are perfectly capable of going to the store, but just don't feel like it, or don't feel like taking the small risk. So I see it is not a clear-cut thing, so just registering my opinion that I think it would be great if there were Instacart-only hours, or Instacart-plus-anyone-who-doesn't-mind-waiting-for-a-long-time hours.
Tom mentioned that when he went to Safeway, he was prohibited from bringing his messenger bag in. Knowing him, he probably just set it down on the ground and went into the store. Last week at Rainbow, I was bagging up my items and, as I was about to put something in my backpack, the cash register person said that was prohibited; he said I could do it outside the store, which I did.
This week I asked the cash register person why I can’t put something I have already paid for in my backpack. He said that, well, actually, I’m not even supposed to bring my backpack into the store in the first place, because it might contaminate their shopping cart. Where on earth am I supposed to leave my backpack if I arrive at the store by bicycle? Fortunately, their strategy seems to be not to worry about this and just to disinfect every cart right after it is done being used. This is probably best, anyway, because even if I didn’t bring my backpack in, I’d be touching the handle of their cart, and they’d have to wipe that, anyway.
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