Supermarket Meltdown

We’ve all heard about the current chaos at supermarkets. Until this morning, I’d heard about it but hadn’t experienced it first hand. I was a supermarket-shopper-in-the-times-of-Covid19 clueless twit. Twit to the max, because everyone knows that heading to the supermarket on a Saturday morning is not the best idea at the best of times, but in these manic times it’s just downright moronic. 

Anyway, this morning, at the bright and shiny hour of ten’o’clock, not just one but TWO morons climbed into the car and drove down the hill to do the shopping.

Cedric and I. 

Dumb and dumber. 

Were we naïve in thinking that Covid19 supermarkets would be strictly patrolled by security guards who would only be letting in a few people at a time,  and that people would be responsible and respect the mandatory 2 metre distance from one another? And behave courteously towards each other, everyone in keep calm and carry on mode.

It started out looking rather promising: as I drove into the parking a friendly security guard told us that only one person at a time was actually allowed in the shop, and that the other would have to remain in the car. So Cedric said he’d stay in the car and wait for me while I ran in and picked up the things we were running short on. I took my precious little packet of disinfectant wipes out of my bag and went to find a trolley. I wiped the trolley handle carefully, then took out my precious little bottle of disinfectant lotion and cleaned my hands, telling myself that I would not, under any circumstances, touch my face while in the shop. I took a deep breath (well, not really, since I think I stopped breathing when I got out of the car) and went in.

Flippin’eck! It was mayhem. People with masks, people with gloves, people with no masks, no gloves. The people with gloves definitely couldn’t give a toss about anyone else, acting like warlords and gladiators as they ran around, swerving, ramming, grabbing. I sucked in my tummy, rounded my shoulders, and tried to stay out of the way while still being rapidly efficient. In  case you’re wondering, there was no toilet paper, but that didn’t matter as we’ve got plenty. What sucked was that there were practically no cleaning products left, and I’m out of bleach. Oh well. I settled for an extra serving of dish-washing tabs.  About twenty minutes into my stressful shopping experience I texted Cedric to tell him it was a shit-show in there, and that it was going to take longer than I’d thought. He texted back, telling me to take my time, which was the last thing I wanted to do, but  knew what he meant. He also said he’d wait outside in the sunshine.

When I finally got in line to pay, my trolley was about a quarter full, nowhere close close to what might qualify as rude and stockpily-ish. Unlike the three ladies in front of me (masked gladiators, all three) who were basically stocking up for the end of days, which totally sucked as all the others queues were moving quite smoothly but the one I’d chosen was moving at about a millimetre per century. 

But I eventually got through, thanked the brave young girl at the cash register, telling her that she and her colleagues deserve medals, and headed back towards the escalator. On the way down I texted Cedric to tell him I was done.

No answer.

I tried again. I’ve finished shopping, I said. Come back to the car.

Nada. Niet. Silence.

Expletives and palpitations.

Nobody at the car. Thankfully, he’d left it open. I say thankfully because if he’d locked it I don’t know how this story would have ended.

I put the bags in the car. Texted him again. No answer.

Just behind me, two cars crashed into each other and two masked gladiators emerged, yelling and gesticulating.

By then, I was craving class A calming substances. I think I was even talking to myself out loud, giving my husband a serious bollocking while trying to back my car around the masked, screaming monsters. I called Cedric. No answer.

Argh! FFS. WTF. Etc etc.

As I drove out of the underground parking, I spotted him walking around in the distance, chatting on his phone and laughing.

I became apoplectic. 

I honked. He didn’t notice.

I drove a bit further down the road to find a place where I could pull over and called him again. He finally picked up, his voice all light-hearted and chirpy, as far away from Covid19 as we all were two weeks ago.

Ooh I was pissed! 

People who know me know I NEVER GET ANGRY. I never shout. I’m incapable of shouting. I’ve hardly ever even raised my voice. 

Turns out I’m not incapable of getting angry and raising my voice! I may have a lot to learn in the voicing my anger department, but baby steps, ok? 

Nevertheless, I surprised myself. 

Poor Cedric was all sorry, and it’s not a big deal in the end. But at the time I felt scared and stressed and Covidish, so when we got home I let him unpack everything with my son while I went had the longest shower I’ve had in a long time. Then I put all the clothes I’d been wearing into the washing machine! And then I had to lie down for a bit. I was knackered.

Which is pathetic. If I can’t deal with an hour of stress in a smallish supermarket without having to spend a substantial portion of the afternoon flat on my back in a dark room listening to meditation music, I seriously need to grow a pair. 

I guess I’ll get used to it. I suppose we’ll all have to get to grips, find ways to cope. When I think of the stories my grandmother told me about what she experienced during the war, I’m ashamed of relating this ridiculous little story of panic at the supermarket to the entire world.

But it’s where I was today. 

As for Cedric, he was sweet and made us lunch. 

I love him. He’d fight dragons for his family if it came to it. And he’s amazing at navigating conference calls in the big bad corporate world.

This morning, I just needed him to be waiting for me at the car. But we were Covid19 supermarket morons. We aren’t anymore.

All will be well.

Take care of yourselves and your loved ones.

Francesca

PS: I didn’t touch my face while in the supermarket!