The Costco Whisperer

I have not dismissed them. They are my parents after all. I have an incredible amount of love for them. 

And a stitch of compassion.

While my husband and our children and I are geographically isolated, I have not abandoned my folks.

When the stay at-home orders caused by the COVID-19 pandemic started in March 2020, my dad, who is an aging Baby Boomer, was understandably very worried about leaving the house. While we didn't know much, we knew COVID was capable of rapidly spreading between people. At the time, most of us were watching as seniors in nursing homes were rapidly dying in large numbers.  Because of science, and the importance of knowing our nation's health history, we know that when community-based illness hit, the young and the old are the most vulnerable. My folks are in a larger city and my dad was on high alert about contracting COVID and meeting his maker. 

Because, then what would happen to Mom? Not that she'd been diagnosed yet. Shhh, don't talk about it, you guys. Remember? #iCulturallyReferenceMyself

sometimes I'm brilliant

At the start of the shutdown, there was also understandable anxiety, and over the first couple of weeks, I had several long talks with my folks. 

They always have me on speakerphone. It's not my favorite but I roll with it, you guys.

In one of our conversations I offered to help them by placing their Costco orders. Online. Because the Internet is awesome like that. 

While I do come from the oppressively misogynistic culture that is the Sonoran Desert, I'm also an adult.

Ultimately, I was happy to help ensure that they at least had enough essentials to survive. I mean, I saw 28 Days Later, you guys. You know what I'm sayin'?

I'm saying that at that point in time, we were coming together as Americans and making sure that we each hoarded as much goddamn toilet paper as we could possibly hoard! 

RIGHT?! #ToiletPaperCrisis2020

Over the past 16+ months, I've had more in-depth phone conversations with my dad...who I love very much...about the different softness levels of toilet paper, than a person ever really needs to in their lifetime. 

Scott toilet paper is no longer something he can use: "It's like sandpaper, ya know what I'm saying?"

Yet, Charmin is too fancy for him. "That's for people with really tender a-holes. I'm not that person. I'm a little tougher than that. I'm a quarter Mexican."

Me: Got it, Dad.

Him: I  mean, I don't have hemorrhoids, or nothin'. I've had hemorrhoids. They are not fun. Did ya ever have hemorrhoids?

Me: Yes, I've had hemorrhoids, Dad. I've been pregnant twice. 

#JesusDad

Him [silence]: Anyway. Do they have the Kirkland brand of TP? That's between Scott and Charmin. It's like a five. On a scale of one to ten, ya know what I'm sayin? It'll do. Get me a couple packages of Kirkland toilet paper if they got it. I mean, they've gotta have it. It's Costco. It's their own brand."

Thank you, Kirkland, for making Dad Approved TP. 

Me: Dad, Costco does have Kirkland toilet paper, but they have a limit on one case. The case contains a total of 30 rolls of toilet paper.

everyone poops

Him: Okay. That'll be fine. As long as your mother or I don't get diarrhea...? I mean, I'll go out sometimes. I gotta get to the lab once a month for my blood draw.

Me: Dad, I got it! One case of Kirkland toilet paper! What else do you need?   

#FocusDad

Him: Ha! I was joking about getting diarrhea! It's not like we're leaving the house. We'll be fine.

Humor always helps, you guys. #PoopJokeFTW

Him: Get two cases, though.

Me: But, Dad, there's a one case limit on toilet paper. I'll check other online retailers and if I find something that's not horribly expensive, I'll arrange for it to be sent. 

Him: That'd be great. Keep checking Costco, too, though. I mean you're on the computer a lot more than me. 

Me: Dad, do you have a computer?

Him: No. I was joking.

I also told my dad that I know he and mom are on a fixed income, and to help, we could also help contribute to the expense of my parents' bimonthly Costco bill. My husband and I were both incredibly lucky, and very very thankful, to both have employment during the shutdown. #gratitude

But Dad sternly refused. "I can pay my own way," he said. "There may be a time where I'm not gonna be able to pay my own way and then you can pay my way. But right now, I'm paying for this. No. But thank you."

Me: Got it, Dad. And you're welcome. I'm happy to be able to help you and Mom with the Costco ordering online. The order has been placed and will be to your home within two hours.

Mom: That's amazing! Thank you, Rachel.  

Me: You're welcome, Mom. 

Today I am thankful Mom still knows my voice.

Over time, we worked out a system where I called once each week, and if I needed to be The Costco Whisper, then I'd place their order...and as if by magic...or perhaps a series of tubes...within a couple of hours, their purchase would be delivered to their door and unloaded into their garage by the Instacart shopper.

And, by the way, Dad, we always always always over-tip service people who are working during a respiratory pandemic. This is an incredible service folks are providing. Let's be thankful for the opportunity to help keep people employed. Because, really, we don't know what they are dealing with, but we are sure thankful to see them with all of our stuff. Seriously, you guys. #gratitude

Elsa letting it go

After the delivery was made and unloaded by the Instacart shopper onto the folding table in the garage, my dad proceeded to then wipe everything down with an anti-germ wipe and let it dry (his choice; let it go). He then brought his items inside and put everything away.

Then he'd call me. I'd ask him how the delivery went and made sure all items were delivered. I'd also give him the total amount of the bill, including the tip being agreed upon in the first phone call when I placed the order.

Sometimes he'd tell me to tip a couple of bucks extra and his feedback would be, "She was a real nice gal." 

Other times he'd provide me a commentary on the Instacart shopper's cuteness, but in a super sly way: "It's a hot one out today, so I slipped her an extra ten bucks."

To clarify, that roughly translates to "it's 100 degrees out today and that gal was so foxy she could have been in a 1980's ZZ Top video." 

Instacart women of the Sonoran Desert are so attractive they make men weak. That's a serious Super Power, you guys.

Me: Dad, I am paying for everything on my credit card. But, yes, go ahead and tip the cute ones extra cash if you need to.

Him: I'm an old man, honey. I'm not dead. Yet. 

Me: It's all good, Dad. No worries.

He'd then tell me when he was planning to mail the check, complete with a list of stops the mail would make between our cities, and predictions of when I should look for it in my post office box. 

He's usually pretty accurate. 

You guys, maybe my Dad could be The Mail Whisperer.