My grocery store of choice is currently being remodeled. They ran the numbers and decided that it made more financial sense to remain open during the construction and perform the construction at night when the store is closed. Of course, this also makes for a much more protracted process. Every evening, the closing employees have to drag shelves out of the way and move some of the product to a holding location. Then, every morning, the early crew moves the shelving back and restocks the product.
I’m friendly with many of the morning employees there (that happens when you go grocery shopping while other people are still sleeping!) and they are tiring of the project. They’re frustrated at making progress only to have it wiped out again the next night. They feel stuck. Motionless yet always moving.
I’m frustrated too. Even though I spend less than an hour a week there, I don’t like the experience at the moment. Nothing is in the same place from week to week. The aisles shrink and grow, breathing like a huge set of bellows. The produce bins seem to be playing musical chairs and their contents are bruised from additional handling. Even the atmosphere isn’t as nice. It’s generally a very well-kept store with good lighting and nice floors. But now? It feels dark and dingy, the floors a calico pelt of stain.
But, like all transitions, it’s temporary.
Change always requires some discomfort.
To make things better, you often have to strip them down.
Change can be unsightly. Ugly even.
Remodeling makes us face our assumptions and expectations.
It breaks habits. And that can be painful.
Progression is rarely linear; there are usually steps backwards as well as forward.
Change is frustrating. It’s hard to accept being neither here nor there.
But without remodeling, the knowledge born of experience could never be used to build a better future.
Without remodeling, nothing adapts to meet changing needs and demands.
And without remodeling, everything stagnates after a time.
Not just grocery stores.