Dr. Rick wouldn't be happy

 

I have fully embraced the Progressive Insurance commercials featuring "Parenta-Life" coach Dr. Rick.

In the spots, Dr, Rick works with a group of new homeowners -- either in the field, in a seminar, or in a workshop -- from becoming their parents.

You know the commercials. For instance, they're in a store when two guys bookend Dr. Rick as someone with blue hair walks by.

"We all see it," Dr. Rick says. "We all see it."

"He has blue hair," says the one on the right, exuding a "Captain Obvious" that he can't hold in.

"OK," says Dr. Rick.

"Bluuuuuuuuuuuuue," explodes the man on the left.

Truth: I'm guilty of (at the very least) groaning when I sit down. My legs, knees, gut, shoulders, and brain all seem to conspire to let out this large exhalation every time. So, yes, Dr. Rick would have a few words for me.

But, today, in the Stop and Shop in Somers, NY (site of the old Baldwin Place Mall for us longtimers), I lived a Dr. Rick experience.

Trying to be ahead of the noreaster that appears to target us, shoppers hit the grocery store looking for their bread, milk, and eggs.

Me? Orange juice. Whenever Sean is around it's always orange juice, storm or not.

I hit a store like a tornado. I get in and I get out.

So, allow me once again to wave this banner:

NOBODY PAYS ATTENTION TO THE ARROWS!

This has been a public service announcement, furnished by the FARE, the Foundation Against Rob Exploding.

If anything, they've created more problems because the few who abide by them (hi!) come in contact with those who don't. Plus frustration builds.

I mean, it could lead to a whole conversation about COVID in these stores, but we'll just soldier on here. I do as I'm told. I wear the mask and I follow the arrows and we'll just ignore the carts and products and door handles and checkouts that can all be caked in germs. We're cool.

I'm digressing again.

Anyway, I'm in the frozen food area (picking up the blasted orange juice) when I hear it. There's an unmistakable sound to my left. That of a middle-aged woman, sauntering along, aimlessly shopping, talking out loud...into her speakerphone. 

We can hear the entire conversation, but I'm mostly smart enough to ignore the content.

But Dr. Rick was speaking in my brain. I said, to no one in particular: "So, we're using a speakerphone in the store. Is that a good idea?"

I'm quite certain the clueless customer of cookies and cream didn't hear me say it and we all on about our day.

Now, the next question is, would she know how to pronounce "quinoa?"