On my side of town there is a modest shopping center with two anchor-store-sized parcels and a bunch of small shops. One grocery store has been there forever. The other building rotated through a bunch of competitors for awhile, but has remained vacant for years.
Parking has always been a problem at the existing grocery store, but I could go park in front of the empty store and walk.
When word came that a major organic food retailer was set to touch down in the empty space, townsfolk were both excited for its arrival and concerned the space couldn't contain the shoppers. The "coming soon" banners stayed up long enough that many doubted the establishment would ever come. But within the past few weeks a new parking lot sprung from a vacant lot rather awkwardly placed by the freeway. This week is the store's Grand Opening.
And today was chaos. For some.
Drivers were in true "me-first" form in the parking lot of the traditional grocery store. I just needed a few simple items, so it didn't even cross my mind to go to the new organic place. I'll save that for when I would ordinarily go to that store a town over and once the "newness" wears off a bit.
People cut each other off, horns blared, and one woman actually started beating on my car because she wanted me to move. (The elderly couple backing out of the space I wanted was taking their time, but I wasn't going to honk or otherwise try to pressure them. Meanwhile, the people in back of me were getting impatient even though many cars opened up spaces in that vicinity, so they ended up parking before I did.)
When I entered the traditional grocery store, I was shocked at the uncharacteristic cleanliness of the floors, the surprisingly cheerful employees, and that I had the store all to myself.
All the stressed-out people in the parking lot were elsewhere. Ironically enough, to the organic place where life was supposed to be relaxed and positive.
Sure, I expected a lot of people want to go check out the brand-shiny-new other store, but I could hear my own voice echo against the walls as I said "no thanks!" to a bright-eyed employee offering samples of their pita snacks. The uber-perky gal near the bakery department didn't even ask before shoving some cookies in my hand, "We make these FRESH every day! They are really good!" she announced with a desperate edge to her voice. I was tempted to pat her on the head and insist everything was going to be just fine, but just maybe it won't.
Aside from a few super-late-night errands, I hadn't been this alone in this very familiar place. And unlike those late nights where the loud noise of the floor polisher or the guffaws of kids stocking up on more alcohol for their parties make for an eery feel, the ambiance today was really quiet. And really, really clean.
Unlike the parking lot, I felt I could walk around gathering my items without worrying about taking too much time or inadvertently blocking someone's way.
As I checked out, the usually irritated store manager was instead shiny and bright, smiling at her bag boys who smiled right back.
I left feeling pretty happy and relaxed (but with a bit of concern, wondering how the battle of the stores will pan out,) but I'm willing to bet at least for today the shoppers over at the other store in town aren't feeling the zen.
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There is another shopping center in town where two different specialty stores reside, One will easily stay thanks to its low prices and high-quality products, but the other is a family-owned gourmet shop that unfortunately might have a drop in customers thanks to direct competition from the new place. Now that I know the parking is so hellacious in the shopping center I went to today, I might make the effort to go across town next time to support the family place while still purchasing organic and other excellent food. But then where will that leave the desperate bakery girl?
