December 23, 2012

OH THE HUMANITY!!!

Well, earlier this evening I made the dire mistake of going to Wal-Mart on Christmas Eve-Eve.  I had fiddled around and neglected to pick up a few important last-minute Christmas items in the past week or two, so today I paid for it (and not just literally).

First of all, there were barely any parking places in the entire parking lot.  I'm a freak, and prefer to park in the same exact row every single time I go to Wal-Mart (or the grocery store, etc).  It's just easier for me so I don't have to try to remember where I parked my car (my memory isn't that great).  So I drove up my favorite row, at the beginning of which a little girl was holding up a cardboard sign that had scribbled on it with magic marker "BABY BUNNIES $5".  A lady was with her, holding and petting one of the $5 baby bunnies.  I imagined someone purchasing one of these bunnies, and putting it in a Christmas stocking, only to awake on Christmas morning to a stocking CHOCK FULL of baby-bunny cocoa-puff poo-pebbles, and one worn out, very hungry little bunny.

So I continued driving up the row, to no avail.  No available parking places.  And since the stupid parking spots are all angled, I couldn't just whip it to the other side; they force you to go around and try all over again.  So I reluctantly went around, and realized that if I went around too far, the baby-bunny people might think I'm back because I'm interested in their bunnies.  So I just parked the stupid car 'face-to-face' with some awful-looking ragged-out monster-truck-wannabe & prayed that whenever they left, they didn't just throw it into Drive instead of Reverse and run over my poor little Honda with their massive Bigfoot/Grave Digger/what-have-you.

So I walk into Wal-Mart and get instantly and completely overwhelmed by the sheer number of people in there.  All of which are acting like they're the only ones in the entire store; taking their dear sweet time, leisurely browsing every item, and staying in everyone else's way.  Thank God for medication, or I'm sure I would've had a panic attack.  So I thought to myself, OK; I know what I'm after.  I just need to go to Aisle X to get Item A, then Aisle Y to get Item B, then proceed quickly through the 10-Items-Or-Less checkout, and leave, to hurriedly retreat to the safety and sanctity of my own home.  Simple.  Just stay focused, and dodge the teeming masses of humanity dawdling in my path; like some crazy, real-life game of dodgeball (except substituting 5,000 dazed, zombie-like Wal-Mart Christmas Shoppers for the ball).

Wal-Mart had (of course) conveniently placed 10,000 bins of Christmas trappings all throughout each and every aisle of the store, making the walkways even more narrow, and it made it physically impossible to pass anyone that happened to be in your way.  Single file only.  Elbows to @$$holes all the way.  Some chick was browsing the bin of cheap, yucky boxed perfumes (you know the kind; with playboy bunny symbols on them, etc.), inadvertently trapping me so that I couldn't get by.  I pretended that I, too, was browsing the fragrances, in a feeble attempt to get her to move, but it was a complete failure.  I didn't have the time or the patience to play the "pretend-I'm-looking-too-in-hopes-that-you'll-go-away" game today.  So 5 seconds later, I discovered a shortcut through the Crock Pots and made my daring escape.  Finally.  Onward to Electronics.

Once I figured out where the section was that I needed to be (luckily it was on an end-cap adjacent to the TVs), and it was just wires and cords and cables and boring stuff like that, so I was able to look for what I needed in peace (gee, I hope I got the right stupid cable...I'm not too good with fancy technological thingies)!

So after obtaining said random electronic cable, I proceeded to slowly make my way over to Aisle Y for Item B.  It was at that point that I began to get overwhelmed; between the huge amount of people, and the vast array of bright, shiny Christmas goodies, my mind just kind of started to melt.  I began to succumb to the thought that my paltry Items A and B weren't enough, and that I needed to purchase MORE THINGS.  I swear they must pump pure oxygen into the air or something in places like that.  Plus, it didn't help that I was in the candy/stocking-stuffer aisle, and all of the chocolate looked so dang yummy (and it would be a shame if we all didn't get some for Christmas)!  So I added a few more goodies to my arms.  But I still felt incomplete.  So I started walking slowly on auto-pilot, and back-tracked toward the craft section.  It always sucks me in for some unknown reason.  I looked aimlessly at all the little craft kits for way too long. Finally I started to snap out of it, and realized that I needed to get my @$$ to the checkout.  On my way to the checkout, I thought of ONE MORE THING, and went back to that particular aisle to get the Thing.  It's like I couldn't leave.  It's like there was some kind of invisible tractor beam, holding me there, and some sort of mind control device, persuading me that I needed to get MORE STUFF!  It's like I was possessed!  I didn't like it, so I decided to get to the checkout pronto, so I could get the hell out of there!

Just when I thought it couldn't possibly get any worse, it got a whole hell of a lot worse in the checkout line.  I lined up in one of those 20-items-or-less lines under the assumption that the line should move quickly (imagine that silly notion, heh heh).  Unfortunately for me, I got behind 2 women that just got off their shift slinging hash at the Waffle House, and they, too, seemed to be purchasing some last-minute Christmas goodies.  One of them mentioned several times about how she realized that she "stunk", but that at least she didn't smell like waffles anymore.  Apparently she had oversprayed herself with a sample of that cheap, yucky boxed perfume they have flowing out of every aisle, because I caught a whiff of it as she flailed her arms about, and it smelled to me like that's exactly what she did.  But what made it so horrible was that the Waffle House ladies were not the LEAST bit in a hurry, and one of them kept asking the poor old man running the register (whose name tag said "LESTER" and the tag also said that he was normally just a "GREETER"), to see what each of the items that she put up there cost.  So he had to scan the item to check the price for her (for example, a box of chocolate-covered cherries), and the lady would say "OK, well, I don't want to get that, then".  WTH!!!  I mean, I could kind of understand doing that with maybe one mildly expensive item.  But several relatively cheap items?  On Christmas Eve-Eve?  With 5,000 other eager-to-get-the-hell-out-of-there shoppers wearily standing there for an eternity, shifting their weight from foot-to-foot, trapped behind them?  GEEZ LOUISE!!!

I think it was when the Waffle House Lady asked Lester for a price check on a basketball that the people standing behind me started to lose it.  I mean, I know those Waffle House ladies work hard, and they probably have to go shopping whenever they get the time (and/or when they finally scrape together enough tip money to go -- they were, after all, pulling their cash from their apron/smock thingies to pay for their purchases).  And they probably have a very real need to make sure they don't pay $1 more for a basketball if they don't have to.  (Wal-Mart oftentimes does have a way of charging you more at the register than what the item was marked when it was on the shelf).  Not to mention that Waffle House isn't even closed on Christmas Day, for crying out loud.  But this was getting ridiculous.  I felt sorry for poor Lester because he barely knew how to run the register; Management obviously threw him to the wolves (as Management does in almost every business, grr), and he had to keep hollering over to the checkout girl in the next lane to help him out.  The Waffle House ladies even had the nerve to try to show and tell Lester how to run the register!  They were pretty nice about everything, telling Lester "Thank You" and "You'll Get Paid Overtime" (no he won't, and he told them so), and "Waffle House Is Open On Christmas Day, So Come By And We'll Give You A Free Cup Of Coffee" (which is a practically nonexistent consolation).

The whole time this is going on, I can see Lester grabbing at his LANE CLOSED sign every few moments, and thinking to myself OH NO YOU DON'T!!!  Poor Lester, caught up in Hurricane Waffle House, hollered back to everyone else standing in his slow line to tell us that we might want to move to a different checkout.  The lady behind me looked around for 2 seconds and loudly said "UHH...I DON'T THINK SO"!  I just stood there looking like a deer in the headlights, continuing to watch this train wreck, whilst Lester kept sporadically clutching and releasing his LANE CLOSED sign.

Finally they got the %#%^ price check on the %#%^ basketball, and thankfully the Waffle House lady accepted it, and it's a good thing, because if she had told poor Lester "never mind" and to "put it back" because she suddenly decided she didn't want it after all, I'm sure she would've walked out of Wal-Mart with that %#%^ basketball anyway; installed as a new and permanent fixture deep inside of her rectum; placed there forcefully by everyone that she held up needlessly for an eternity in that 20 Items Or Less Aisle (with Lester heading up the installation).

At long last, the Waffle Housers exited the store with their purchases in tow.  I could tell that poor Lester was relieved to see them go, and after he began ringing up my few items, he placed his LANE CLOSED sign up with gusto.  The lady and man behind me were not amused (the lady had actually sent the man up to the front to retrieve a buggy for them to put their items in some time before that, since they were getting to heavy to hold in their arms, while we were all held hostage waiting for the Waffle Housers to get the heck out of there).

Moments later, my transaction was complete, and I was finally able to make my way out to the parking lot.  When I got outside, the fresh air hit me, and I must have started to sober up, so-to-speak, because I actually remembered which aisle I parked my car in!  And it was still there, intact!  No impromptu monster-truck demolition derby had taken place in my absence!  I drove my way out of the row, past the $5 baby bunny people (making sure not to make eye contact, so as not to feign interest in the bunnies), promptly ran the HELL over the curb with my right rear tire, and embarrassingly proceeded to drive home as quickly as possible.

JEEZ!!!  NEVER AGAIN!!!

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