"Little Shopping Horrors"

I live in a small community by most standards. Which means shopping options are limited. We do, however, have Wal Mart. I despise Wal Mart. Actually, I have a love-hate relationship with Wal Mart. I love that it is open 24 hours. I love that I can buy groceries and athletic socks in the same trip. I hate that when I have to run there at 2 am for children's ibuprofen because someone spiked a fever in the middle of the night and I also decide to pick up some 7Up (which, coupled with chicken soup, IS the cure-all for all illnesses, but I digress); I have to hoof it the equivalent of three city blocks to get from one corner--the back left--to the other corner--the front right--where the two items that I need are located. Ditto for milk and toothpaste.

Today, I needed to run to Wal Mart for just a couple of things. And I didn't have much time. And it was Sunday afternoon,which means everyone and their distant relatives were there. And my two sons decided that would be a good time to tag along and purchase baseball cards. Which reminds me--my youngest son still owes me $2.

We dash to the baseball cards, which are in checkout aisle 12. It seems to me that you wouldn't want to put baseball card stuff right next to the registers. It gets congested if people are trying to check out, and kids are trying to decide which baseball card pack has the potential to yield the most treasure. However, this is maybe only a problem on Dec 24, which is the ONLY day in the HISTORY of our Wal Mart, where I have seen more than 5 registers open at a time, and I think they have 19 or so total, not counting self-check.

We then head over to the junior department, where I want to grab a basic jean skirt for my daughter. No luck. No jean skirts. No SKIRTS. In the entire department. I swear I saw skirts there two days ago.

After weaving our cart through the maze of people, we finally make it to the grocery side of the store. My frustration level rises. Wal Mart--or at least our Wal Mart, is FAMOUS for carrying an item, or a specific brand of item, just long enough for you to decide you like it, and then stop carrying it. And I don't mean discontinue it, where they post a red price tag next to it, and just don't order any more. I mean completely remove it from the shelf. It was there, yesterday, and gone today. Sometimes, if you are lucky, and have an extra half-hour to hike it to the back 40 of the store, you might find said item on a discount rack sandwiched between jars of pickled pigs' feet and Mexican gelatin mixes. But probably not.

Now, we are on the home stretch. We just need two more items. A tin to put some cookies in for someones birthday, and a birthday card. Cookie tins are hard to come by at Wal Mart in August. Apparently, no one gives cookies to people except for in the month of December, when there are three aisles of cookie tins and cute containers for goodies. And you can't stock up for the rest of the year, because they are all red and green plaid or have snowmen or Santa on them. I am hopeful, though. Not three days ago, I saw some neat galvanized metal tins with lids over in the basket section that might work. I head over. The baskets have been in the same location for months--maybe years. Now it is the silk flower section. There are five battered baskets on an end cap, and no metal tins ANYWHERE!!

I now have to decide if I have time to scour the entire 3 city block area of Super Wal Mart for baskets and containers, with no guarantee they will even HAVE what I am looking for. Of course, there is no Wal Mart employee anywhere in sight. And even if there was, the chances are good that he or she would have no idea how to find what I am looking for. I opt to just use something I have at home.

We grab the birthday card, which was pretty painless, considering. Except for the price. $3.99 for a piece of paper that will wind up in the trash by this time tomorrow, is highway robbery, in my opinion.

We have 3 checkout line choices that actually have a person working them (I refuse to do self- check on principle). I pick the one that isn't backed up all the way to the jewelry counter, and after what seems like a lifetime, I finally start loading my items on the conveyor belt. A teenage girl, who would obviously rather be anywhere than behind the checkout counter at Wal Mart on a Sunday afternoon mumbles, without making eye contact, "Did you find everything okay, today?"

I decide this is one time where honesty isn't the best policy. "Yep," I reply. "Thanks for asking."
I mean, at least one part of this experience ought to be drama-free for someone.