My Final Trip to Walmart

Dear Jessica Brennan,

Once a flood I go to Walmart in an act of unconditional self-loathing and that flood rose earlier this week. What was I thinking? These people (of Walmart) have their own website and fully and proudly live up to the stereotype. But pajama pants and sad, smelly in-store McDonalds aside…it’s a remarkable place. And by remarkable I mean:

[ri-mahr-kuh-buh l] adjective

1. notably or conspicuously unusual; extraordinary:

aka – horrible:

[hor·ri·ble \ˈhȯr-ə-bəl, ˈhär-\] adjective 

1. causing horror : very shocking and upsetting,very bad or unpleasant

The store itself is three times the size of Terminal 5 at Heathrow, with everything you can imagine in it. I had no idea you could buy bananas at Walmart.  If you feel like you need some potassium (and you will, during your visit) they are just down from the belly-button rings, behind the motor oil.  When you see the large sale display of temporary ham sandwich tattoos, just look to your left and there they are.

Eventually after walking for about 30 miles I found the box of Kleenex I needed and headed to the checkout.  “Just a quick stop”, I thought naively. This is when things turned a whole new kind of crazy.

The check-out talks. Let me say that again in case you missed it, the check-out talks.

So, I stood with my Kleenex (Thank goodness I had them because I was crying by the time I actually got done my trip) and in order to speed things up this automated voice said, “Please proceed to check out #48” or “Please proceed to check out #189”.  I can’t be sure, but I also think I heard it say, “If you happen to make eye-contact with another customer or a cashier, please proceed directly to the eye-wash station.”

This talking, prison-like speaker system was too frightening for words so I calmed my fear by popping 4 anti-anxiety pills and heading over to the old fashioned lines where you need to be able to figure out for yourself that if you are next in line, you should proceed to the cashier, in that line.  “Lines for smart people” I thought smugly.  But oh my how could I have gotten it so wrong?

There were about 712 lines at last count, but the lights were only on at aisle #1 and aisle #93.  The line at aisle #93 was the longest because in aisle #1 there was a 5 year-old child screaming like a banshee, at full volume, non-stop, doing everyone’s head in, in four counties.  This kid was an amazing freak of nature because at no time did she appear to need to breathe.  Her mother, another one definitely not to make direct eye-contact with, stood next to her with a glazed look, staring straight ahead with Freight-Train Francine screaming in her ear.  I took the mono-rail down to row #93, where in front of me there was an affable fellow with a dozen or so items and an older lady with 61 crates of individual cat food tins.  This seemed simple enough. I made a good choice. I will be out of here in no time. But no.

Affable-Al had purchased a plastic action figure for $7.97, but when the cashier rang it in, it came up at $8.25.  Wait, what? That’s not right. Let’s scan it again, because obviously the bar code is going to change miraculously between scans. Nope.  Huh?! Still $8.25. Wow. Let’s scratch our heads for a few minutes and decide what to do, and then those words we all love to hear fell like rose scented rain throughout the store, “I need to call for a price check”. A collective sigh went out across the universe, and I knew I would just have to wait for this, the greatest puzzle of all time, to be solved, right here in front of me. I started looking around, rifling through the items by the check-out, resisting the glazed look that was starting to befall me.  Stay strong Sharon. I began asking myself as I stood there, “Do we need batteries, juicy fruit, baby wipes?”  Stop it Sharon! Focus on the task at hand. About thirteen minutes later we confirmed that yes indeed the plastic craptastic doll is in fact $7.97 not $8.25 and Affable-Al is just tickled pink.  “Sorry ladies”, he said to me and Cat Food lady, “But I don’t like to get ripped off.” Then he looked at me and said, “That’s a lovely dress”.  “Thanks Al”, I replied.

Oh but Dear Jessica Brennan, we’re not done yet, because here’s how it works at Walmart the home of the rolled back price, and quite frankly the rolled back cerebral cortex. Once they confirm the price of the item, and the savings to the customer of the .28 cents, a manager must come and refund the item and recharge it at this new price.  At this point I am imagining myself offering Affable-Al $100.28 to get lost with his plastic GI-Jed and to never be seen again. Within a mere nine minutes the manager came to refund the transaction but first of course (to justify her status) had to interrogate the cashier to confirm that in fact all the boxes had been ticked on the price-check.  The manager reluctantly signed off on the .28 cents, refunded the transaction and away we go.

At least I think that’s how it happened because once the cashier called the manager, I asked Cat Food lady to hold my spot and I walked down to aisle #1 and stood next to Francine and joined her in banshee-screaming for five minutes.  Obviously Francine has been to Wal-Mart before and has this thing figured out.   When I got back to my spot, feeling much better, Al was gone and Cat-Food lady was unloading her crates one tin at a time onto the conveyor.  Who knew that there could be 732 different kinds of cat food all with their own bar code? Fantastic. Cat Food lady was very efficient and knew how to use her bank card, something Al was struggling with, and when it was finally my turn the cashier said, (you guessed it), “This lane is closing, but she can help you on aisle #71”.

A mob of jiggling pajama bottoms (some on skateboards) raced to aisle #71 where the cashier had the cheek to say, “I can help who’s first.”

Her #71 light flicked on, and a light flicked on in my awareness too. I put my opened Kleenex box on top of a display of plastic rubber boot shaped water-bottles and left the store. On my way out the door an anti-greeter thingy person asked me in a calm voice, “Did you find what you were looking for?” I can’t be sure, but I think there was a halo around his head. Did I find what I was looking for?  I had to pause and consider the weight of the question, so profound in the midst of the drone-level chaos, and then, I answered, “Yes, I think I did”.  It was [ri-mahr-kuh-buh l.

Love Mum xo