On a recent frigid early morning in a cramped, small-town Kroger twenty minutes outside Columbus, a long line twists and turns near the in-store pharmacy, one of 2,200 in-store pharmacies Kroger operates.
The line is somewhat socially distanced, mostly middle-aged men, some wearing camo, others sporting Harley Davidson logos, some have brought their own folding chairs. Fights have nearly broken out in the past over losing a place in line.
But this line of a dozen or so is not waiting for the vaccine. Kroger’s in-house state-controlled liquor store is mere feet from the pharmacy. They are waiting to find out if a high-end whiskey costing $400 a bottle has arrived or not.
When the liquor store’s door opens, the expensive whiskey did make it in overnight, and the line moves briskly with happy customers.
Standing not far from this scene is a long-time Kroger employee who spends her days stocking pizzas and other frozen goods into tall glass-doored freezers.
With tired eyes she glances at the absurdity of those buying $400 bottles of whiskey, then turns to a Free Press reporter.