Wal-Mart, My Slice of Pure Hell on Earth

In my mind, I cannot really picture heaven. I know what I would like for it to be - a place to reunite with friends and family that I have lost - and my dogs. My dogs had better be there! I want it to have an all you can eat buffet (with no weight gain of course, ) huge TV's for watching sports (Rangers winning the World Series) - you get the idea. Beyond that, I really can't imagine heaven.

Hell on the other hand - I've got a high-definition picture in my head. If I end up downstairs at the end of this crazy life I am going to be dropped into my neighborhood Wal-Mart and I will never be allowed to leave. I will be pushing a cart with a bad wheel that only wants to turn right and it will make horrible screeching noises as I push it. And, I will be pushing it for ETERNITY. I can imagine my days cut into mini slices of hell with different Wal-Mart problems. For example, asking someone for help. In heaven I'm sure they would be ever so helpful. Wait, in heaven I won't be a Wal-Mart shopper so we can skip that hellish scenario. But in hell, asking for help? Actually, I don't imagine it would be any different than asking for help at Wal-Mart now.

This is a honest accounting of one of my many Wal-Mart (HOE - hell on earth experiences) with maybe a few embellishments here and there.

Checking out at register - I have a lot of produce. I don't realize until I have a load of stuff on the conveyor belt that the cashier is new - so new that she still has a trainer with her. At this point, loading my stuff back in the cart quickly would seem rude so I soldier on.

The trainer: Oh girl, you've got lots of produce. She hasn't done produce yet. Gonna show her produce!
Me: Smile, nod my head, ask myself once again why I am at Wal-Mart.
Cashier: No words, complete fear on her face - and I'm pretty sure English is not her first language.

Now, take a minute and think about this. At Wal-Mart you can be your own cashier. If they allow the customers to do this - you've got to think it really isn't that hard to do.

Cashier begins scanning items. Trainer sees one of her boyfriends and begins a very intense conversation with him. She has no idea what the cashier is doing and neither does the cashier. I think to myself, be patient, everyone has to start somewhere, be patient, everyone has to start somewhere...

When I started in the line my bananas were green - they are riper now and one of the avocados is ready to be gaucamole now.  Be patient, everyone is new at some point...everyone has to start somewhere. She now gets to her first item of produce. She doesn't know what it is. She looks at the trainer. Nope - no help there. She looks at the item. She grabs the book that has the pictures of produce. I say, "it's a mango." Or at least that is what I thought I said. By the look on her face I'm not really sure what I said. Frozen dinners are thawing..."It's a mango, if you enter the 4 digit number on the tag that's a bitch to tear off if you get it wet first, it will then ask you how many mangoes I have - you will enter 1. Because, I have one mango. Just that one that you are holding there. It's a mango."

We're on to bananas now. She enters the banana code but then I think tries to tell it how many bananas I have. "No, they do the bananas differently. They are by the pound. Put in the code, then you put it on the scale. The scale is the shiny plate there in front of you. No, just the bananas - we're through with the mango now."

At this point I should get a discount for training a new Wal-Mart employee. Next time I'm in I think I will teach her the art of customer service. Maybe she can spread it to other employees. Maybe it will catch on. Or, maybe hell will freeze over and my cart will be easier to push.