Skip to main content

Walmart Sucks, Ray

That's it. I'm dumping all my plans and ideas to push through some new legislation. It's time to make numbers easier to read. Who knew they were so confusing? Just go down to your local Wal-Mart and you can see first hand how those rascally numerical figures mix up the synapses in the brain.

My Wal-Mart has 30 registers. At any given time, no more than 10 of them are open. Of the 10 that are open, 2 are for 20 items or less, and one is for 10 items or less. Still following me?

I ran into Wal-Mart to pick up brackets for the shade I bought last week. I walked up to the registers with my $.87 item and scanned the battlefront. The 10 items or less lane seemed the most ideal for me, since I have the aforementioned 1 item in hand. I quickly counted on my fingers. Yes, less than 10.

I am greeted by the backside of a woman and her son...and their shopping cart. One...two...seven...twenty-eight. Perhaps I was in the wrong line. I checked the sign above. "10 Items or Less. Cigarettes may only be purchased at this register." I gave her the benefit of the doubt and asked, "Excuse me, are you buying cigarettes?"

She smiled and shook her head. "Yes, I am."

I grabbed a magazine and started reading about poor fat Valerie Bertinelli and her size 14 body. And waited. And watched. And waited. And watched. She didn't buy cigarettes.

The cashier weakly smiled at me and processed my transaction. I raised my eyebrows and beat it out of there. $.87 for twenty minutes of my time. I think I got ripped off. I'm easily worth $1.02.

Comments

Christy said…
Ha! Yeah - I keep trying to boycott Walmart, but I am not worth that much. I always need a couple of painkillers and a stiff drink when I'm done with my weekly grocery shop. But I saved $20.

Popular posts from this blog

Busy Days Ahead

It's been a busy week for me. I left my house at 4:30 Monday morning for my drive down south and pulled back in my driveway at 1:20 this morning. The days have been long, too, between working at the new school from 7:30 until 3:00 or 4:00 and then working at the new place until 9:00 or 10:00 each night. I now have callouses on my fingers and not one intact finger nail. I think I've also developed a new twitch somewhere on my face. One afternoon this week, I stood in the middle of our new living room and took in the sight of missing drywall, a growing hole in the floor and soaked up my husband's predictions that we still won't be ready to paint by the weekend. All I wanted to do was cry. All I felt was nothingness. Numbness. Anyone who has ever reached the point of numbness knows that it's scarier than feeling like you're falling apart. It's one step beyond feeling like you're falling apart. I couldn't help but wonder just what we had gotten ourselves

The Carnival

It's a beautiful Saturday afternoon here in southwest Florida, although still a bit too warm for my November tastes. I'm learning to enjoy my weekends with as much unstructured and unscheduled time as possible. Last Saturday was a delightful unstructured day. A new friend of mine (the one from the Everglades excursion) and I went to a local carnival. Now, here's the thing...I LOVE carnivals. The food. The people. The rides. The lights. I can easily spend an entire day wandering through the crowds. He's no carnival slouch. The first thing we did was walk through the entire place, scoping out the rides. Then the fun began. We rode almost every ride there (except for the kiddie attractions and the broken Tornado). The Wild Claw. The Scrambler. The Orbiter. The Space Oddysey. The Swings. The Pharaoh's Fury. The Ferris Wheel. The Giant Slide. The Haunted House. The Avalanche. It was all good. How can you top a ride that uses centrifugal force to plaster your body against

Stranger Obligations

I had to make a few difficult decisions this week. At least, they were difficult for me. I wish I could be the kind of person who completely makes decisions based on his/her own needs and wants and boldly moves through life with unabashed freedom from how our choices affect others. But I'm not built like that. I had placed an ad for my former stray. I felt like it was time to find her a more permanent home because so much in my life right now is uncertain. One person answered the ad, but she did not seem like a good fit, and I gave up further thought. This week I received another response. As long as this person is telling the truth, it's an ideal situation for the dog. Yet, I had a strange feeling and could not sort out whether or not it was my intuition kicking in or that fact that I actually like the dog and don't want to see her go. In the end, I decided that it was in my own (and my Winnipeg's) best interest for her to stay with us through the summer. (I seri