Trader Joe’s at lunch
One of my favorite work from home hacks is go to Trader Joe’s during my lunch hour. I can get a huge cart without feeling like I’m going to take out 10 pairs of toes in the process. I can take my time in the typically packed frozen section. I can ask one of the million workers where the unshelled edamame has wound up. AND. There’s rarely a check out line.
Today is the first time that I’ve been home for over 15 hours in over a month. That means that it has been 30+ days since I have stepped foot into a Chicago grocery store. Plus, Julia is coming in with her friends tomorrow and I have volunteered to host all 11 of them for dinner. “Do not underestimate how much these boys can eat,” was her warning. My list, as you might imagine, is long.
Yeah. Today is definitely going to to be a mid-day grocery run.
Trader Joe’s is slightly busy for an 11am visit, but nowhere near what I may have received at 5pm. I’m able to park my cart at the ends of produce stands, calmly checking and re-checking my very, very obsessive list. I’m bothering no one. (At 5pm, I can’t park my cart and check my list anywhere without feeling like I’m in someone’s way.)
I go through each aisle, taking my time. Am I forgetting anything?
At long last, I scour my list one final time. The man who ran away to check on the shelled edamame has come back with bad news, but that’s okay. I need to hit up the regular grocery store for a few things anyways. I feel good. I have everything.
I walk right up to the check out guy. No line. He starts scanning my things. “Need any bags?” He takes a look at my pile of canvas totes.
“I don’t think so. I have a lot. But I did get a lot… so we’ll see.” I mentally do some math. Two bags for frozen stuff, a couple for produce, this one for flowers… OMG! I forgot the flowers. I press my palm into my forehead. “I’m so sorry,” I say, “I forgot to grab flowers. Let’s do all this first, and I can do a separate purchase for them.”
“Orrrrr…” the man says, “You could just leave these here with me to get started with and go pick out your flowers now. I can do the bagging. No one’s behind you.”
I could hug him. (I don’t.) But I absolutely take him up on his offer and dart back to grab some tulips.
Together, we finish bagging and he rings me up. I tap my card, and put it back into my wallet. Which I then put back into my pants pocket. Which is when I realize… “Oh no. The car keys are in one of these bags.” Since this kind cashier took over the bagging, I have no idea which bag was in the front of the cart with my keys in the outside pocket.
His eyes get wide. “I didn’t see any keys…”
“Oh, you wouldn’t have, they’re in an outside pocket. They’ll be easy to find once I know which bag it is.” I look at the insane amount of bags in front of me. “Just… wish my luck.”
“You’ve got this.” He grins and puts the last bag into the cart. Off I go.
Of course, the keys are in the last bag I check once I’m at my car. But no one is giving me death glares from their car, waiting for me to hurry up and get out so they can snag my spot. Because, after all, it is only 11:45 in the morning.
Another very successful Trader Joe’s lunch run.
