Here in a rural section of the People's Utopia of Kalifornia, the start of it all was like our P(i)S-P(i)S summer--Public Service Power Shutdowns any time somebody would sneeze next to a power pole--Dairy, empty. Bleach, empty. Bread, empty. Processed meat, empty. TP and paper products, empty. Processed foods, canned goods, spaghetti, empty. Some produce and fruit was slim pickings. It looked like the 1970s Soviet Union stores IMO, and still has that look today, more than a month later.
It improved the next week and one could purchase (1) pack of TP which is still scarce at my normal store.
Went to another outlet grocery a couple of times in the last ten days. Shelves are stocked, but many things items are discontinued items and stock changes weekly.
My normal store still has Soviet-style shelves even today, though it is better.
However, hours are limited. There's designated places to stand in line, a plexy shield for the cashier, etc. Some cashiers wear masks, as do some of the customers...
I haven't been to any of the other three local chain stores nor to WallyWorld.
For all practical purposes, I already had food, tp, supplies so there was little need to head to the store at the start.
The place that really looks like biz as usual for the outside or better yet, a land-office rush, is the local big-box home improvement store. The parking lot is filled since many people have little to do. There's bleach and paper towels when you get to the foyer, signs telling you to stay 6 feet away, some with masks, some without. Designated standing spots at check out. Plexy for the clerks.
About two weeks ago, I had to run the the Kalifornia Kremlin to do a small "construction" job and document a project as a journalist. Costco was on the way. The parking lot looked a little less than normal, so I grabbed a cart. When I got to the door, I noticed the line hidden on the other side of the building, left the cart and got gas where there was no line for a change.
The line to get in was long and strung out. It reminded me of when I worked in the wildland fire service and would go out with an inmate hand crew. The crew captain was always an older seasoned firefighter who was used to the cons. When the hand crew was cutting a fire line you'd hear the captain call out "Keep a dime boys, keep a dime!" meaning ten feet between the bodies, especially at the front where the lead man was swinging a brush hook followed by men with axes, followed by more sharp and bludgeoning tools. It was a matter of keeping out of the way and making sure there was enough room to work the tools without clobbering.
So now when I go out in public, I simply tell everyone to "Keep a dime! Keep a dime!" and smile.
