V. Writings From the Edge of the Apocalypse: Captain, She’s Going to Blow!
April 21, 2020
What a difference a few weeks makes. I’m now wearing a face mask while at the nursery but it makes it hard to breathe, which I suppose in some way is the point. Masks are not made for physically taxing work, running in particular, and mine vents upwards into my glasses steaming them up. As a result my iPhone no longer recognizes me and more importantly, I cannot see. Moving quickly while unable to see or breathe sounds like a dare I would normally refuse. But these are not normal times.
Initial curbside pick-up orders were primarily around edibles, and lettuce held the same status as toilet paper. At one end of the spectrum were the panicked shoppers anticipating the approaching apocalypse, and on the other end, Shelter in Place bored consumers. But with the advancing spring and no signs of restrictions easing, everyone in-between was forced to come to grips with the new Personal Plant Shoppers Approach.
It’s a slow moving tsunami that engulfs the nursery. Like the people who watch the ocean recede after an earthquake, we know what is coming, and we know we can’t outrun it.
Customers now branched out into buying everything. No matter it was sight unseen. Nothing became too subjective, too specific, too big or too small. Worms. Trees. Fertilizer. Perennials for shade. Perennials for sun. Gloves. Bigger trees. Cedar planters. Huge galvanized containers. Fountains, yes, fountains. Shovels. Grass. Dirt by the bag. Yards of dirt in bulk. A single pack of seeds. Annuals, pink only. Annuals who cares what color. Trellises made of iron. Trellises for vegetables. Pond paraphernalia. Flowering bushes. And tomatoes, tomatoes, tomatoes.
As orders are placed they are sorted into areas; green house, nursery, warehouse, hard goods. Many involve more than one department and are substantial, but in order to pick and move orders of any size around the nursery, a carrying mechanism of some sort is necessary. Enter the grocery cart.
Who knew a lowly rolling cart would become so pivotal to our entire operation. After orders are fulfilled, plants on wheels are rolled to the cashiers. In the first week it was impressive to see 29 carts lined up waiting to be “finalized” by the cashier, which includes calling customers for credit card information to be hand keyed and processed over the phone. It can also involve orders being changed which slows the process.
One week later, the trail of carts was 50 deep and whereas originally one cart represented one customer, with space and mobile plant devices becoming a premium, a single cart now held 2-4 orders. But like COVID-19 that got us into this situation, the orders were expanding exponentially, and within another few days the single row of 50 had doubled to two rows, parked side by side like toddlers on their way to the park. Tiered storage racks also on rollers were conscripted and added to the line to hold as many as 10 orders per rack.
The pick-up line outside the nursery mimicked the groaning greenhouse as cars now stretched all the way through our parking lot, onto the highway, and down the road a block away. Keep in mind, cars do not have to observe social distancing and they were bumper to bumper.
It was 9:00am on Tuesday, week four of Curbside Delivery featuring the Personal Plant Shopping Approach as I surveyed the situation. I knew there were another 400 orders waiting their turn in the “Do First” box, next to the “Waiting for Return Call” box, next to the “Today’s Orders” box, which is NOT the do first box, when the Scotty in my head finally yelled:
“Captain! I don’t know how much more she can handle! She’s going to blow!”
And within the hour, it did. The unlikely Grocery Cart Linchpin exerted itself, the unforeseen weakness made itself known, and the unthinkable happened. We ran out of carts. No carts, no Peronal Plant Shopping!
The expressions from my fellow shopping representatives were priceless. Hearing that we had ground to a halt because no wheels, no one got upset. Just a matter of fact “oh … okay” look. With a ratio of six personal shoppers per cashier, we pickers went with the flow and had an early lunch, giving the cashiers time to free up enough carts to allow operations to resume.
One of the seasoned vets said to me, “the first year here is the hardest and then it gets easier. But after this? It will be a piece of cake in a month when we return to normal.” I have no doubt and am looking forward to that day. But I have to add, the bonds that are being forged between relative strangers in this very unusual reality show will also yield friendships that once things return to normal, will always have the glue of understanding that comes from having surfed together the slow moving tsunami of 2020.
See below for garden photos as another aspect of nature does her thing.
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