THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Friday, May 17, 1996 TAG: 9605160198
SECTION: VIRGINIA BEACH BEACON PAGE: 07 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: Diane Guyer
LENGTH: Long : 108 lines
I could have made a fortune if I'd only had the foresight to have T-shirts made that read ``I Survived the Farmer Jack Grand Opening - April 28, 1996!'' Strategically positioning myself near the exit at the new supermarket in Fairfield Shopping Center, I would have hawked the souvenirs to those justifiably proud patrons who'd had the fortitude to stand in line for an hour or more.
Yes, I, too, was part of the Sunday crowd maneuvering through aisles littered with abandoned shopping carts, scooping up bargains left and right. Those of us who made it through the check out lines will long recall the day with nostalgia and pride.
Lack of parking spaces did not alarm us. We drove around patiently until we spied people loading bags into a trunk and then cleverly waited for them to pull out.
Lack of shopping carts inside the store did not thwart us. We simply followed triumphant shoppers to their cars and waited for them to load their trunks and then retrieved their carts.
Lack of room to move upon re-entering the store slowed us down but did not stop us. Sure - we may have a few bruises on our derrieres from being quite literally rear-ended, but we gave as good as we got. For the most part, people carefully tried to find alternate routes at the impasses caused by people who had given up hope and abandoned their carts. (Alert employees hurriedly removed such obstacles, but they couldn't keep up).
It was beautiful to observe the maneuvering skill of the American consumer. An elderly woman in the crowded produce section executed a flawless U-turn with her cart between the zucchini and the jumbo onions. Several people actually applauded.
Even the maddening Farmer Jack song did not stop us. For those of you who have never shopped at a Farmer Jack store, be warned that once inside, there is no escaping the sound of the children's song ``Old MacDonald Had a Farm.'' The words have been changed, of course, except for the ``ee-yi-ee-yi-o.'' The new words extol the virtues of the Farmer Jack store. Since each department has its own version, your brain is continually bombarded with Farmer Jack propaganda. Days later, for no apparent reason, you may begin singing ``. . . our pepperoni's nice and fresh, ee-yi-ee-yi-o.'' It is a wonder that employees aren't affected. (Perhaps they are. I could have sworn that I heard a cashier say, ``Your total comes to 87.33 ee-yi-ee-yi-o.'')
We were undaunted by checkout lines so long and convoluted that there was no possible way to tell which line went to which cashier. Some people didn't even realize they were in a line - they thought they had merely come to another blockade. A few uncommitted shoppers gave up when their biological clocks urged them to end this nonsense and get on with their lives. Alert store employees wandered about with trays of food samples - sustenance that may have saved a few lives and certainly kept several of us from consuming the contents of our carts before paying.
People bonded, some even exchanging names and planning to hold reunions if they ever made it out of the store. I promised three ``linemates,'' former strangers who are now acquaintances, that I would mention them when I wrote about our experience. Hello, Dino, Goldie and Walter! At one point, Dino and I found ourselves wedged against the broccoli display and were obliged to select specified bunches for customers who couldn't reach the vegetables. We did so cheerfully, in the spirit of shopping. We were in this together. United we shop - divided we abandon our carts. Our little group laughed and chatted about everything from the price of cheese to philosophy. We remarked how fortunate we were to have access to such abundance, even if we had to wait. Walter told us he had seen lines this long while on a trip to Moscow, but that the shelves there were nearly empty and the prices high.
For our entertainment, a person in a yellow chicken suit appeared. (Or we may have been hallucinating from standing in line so long and listening to the Farmer Jack song.) Next came two bigger-than-life characters from the movie, ``Toy Story'' - Woody and Buzz Lightyear. Dino, Goldie, Walter and I looked at Buzz, scanned the seemingly endless checkout line and then proclaimed in unison, ``To infinity and beyond!''
As we finally rounded the corner of the produce department, we learned that: 1) Dino had come from the Philippines 19 years ago; 2) Walter's pregnant wife would enjoy the 99-cent Edy's ice cream; 3) Goldie lived nearby and would return the next day after dropping her daughter off at school; and 4) we were in THE EXPRESS LINE!
Alert but frightened employees had come to inform us that some of us were in the wrong line. This was a potentially explosive announcement, since we had been in line for nearly an hour, and we'd had no way of knowing which line we were in when we entered the queue. After some polite negotiations, the employees decided to find the end of the line and inform the last person to pass the word on to newcomers, while those already in line would be allowed to stay.
None of the people with 10 items or less complained about the folks with full carts. Many of those with full carts offered to let those with a few items go ahead of them. This was both amazing and heartwarming, especially to someone who grew up in a northern state, which will remain nameless but whose initials are N.J. (I can assure you that, had such circumstances arisen where I came from, there definitely would have been language foul enough to make a hockey player blush and there probably would have been a bit of bloodshed.)
Did we faint when the cashier ran out of cash register tape and said there would be a short wait? No! The people in line shouted encouragement to the harried and apologetic cashier. ``Don't worry about us, honey,'' one shopper said. ``Y'all just take it easy. A few more minutes isn't gonna kill us.''
The time I spent at the Grand Opening revived my faith in humanity and reminded me of why I love living in Virginia. People here have an attitude. A friendly one. They aren't afraid to talk to strangers in lines or waiting rooms or elevators.
They see store employees as fellow human beings. Instead of becoming ugly under stressful conditions, folks around here pull together, work for the common good - and they do it with a sense of humor. I'll bet I could have sold plenty of T-shirts. Yessiree (yi-ee-yi-o). by CNB