A Christmas Tale

Dear readers, I think you might be ready for this story. I will warn you ahead of time that it is not for the faint of heart. It is a story of great bravery, a story of clinching victory from the claws of defeat. A story of incredible brute strength, and the will power to succeed. A sad, sad, sad, story but at least it ends... well, I will let you decide about the ending.

It happened about this time last year, on a cold, snowy late afternoon. The snow was about 6 inches thick. OK, maybe it wasn't snowing. I think it was sleeting, or was it hailing? OK, maybe the weather was alright. The setting...the parking lot of my favorite retail store - Walmart.

I was shopping for a few last minute items for Christmas. The store was so crowded I could barely maneuver my cart (did you know that the average shopping cart weighs 33 pounds empty?) through the aisles. Kids were running everywhere screaming and playing with all of the toys and leaving them strewn  all over the place. It was like trying to walk in a field and dodging the cow poop. It was terrifying. I found my few items, actually I found more than I intended to find. My cart ended up being fuller than expected. Now it was time to check out. Oh the Christmas joy. Luckily I spotted the lawn and garden area - there was no line there! Can you imagine - NO LINE! The other lines were 12 people deep. Suckers. By the way, did you know that they put the worst cashiers and the ones that speak the least amount of English in the lawn and garden department? It's true. Another Walmart employee told me. Remember that Walmart allows customers to be their own cashier so you really expect the cashier to be able to handle ordinary transactions. It is my personal experience that I really need to lower my expectations when shopping at Walmart. Looking back on it now it's possible that the guy didn't really work there - he was probably just there waiting for his wife and thought what the hell. Finally, my transaction was complete. Time to make my way to the car with my shopping cart that weighs 33 pounds empty. It wasn't empty.

When I park my car at any shopping establishment with carts I typically park a little bit further out but near a cart corral. I figure if people are parked near a cart corral they are more likely to actually put their carts up instead of being a total lazy ass and just leaving it in the middle of the parking lot so it can roll into my car and cause cart dings. So, as I was trudging through the six inches of snow - oh yeah, I forgot it wasn't really snowing.

Are you aware that if you take your cart outside of "the zone" at Walmart that the cart wheels actually lock up on you?

They are really serious about this.

The average shopping cart costs anywhere from $75.00 to $175.00. So I can understand not wanting to lose your carts. However, if you remain in the parking lot then the cart SHOULD NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES LOCK!!!! You might guess what happened to me. Yes dear readers, the cart locked up about 5 aisles (or was it miles) away from my car. I WAS STILL IN THE PARKING LOT! I was not racing the cart on Central Expressway. I was in the parking lot. The parking lot of Walmart. Not Target. I wasn't pushing it to Denny's. I wasn't stealing it. I was in the parking lot. The Walmart parking lot - not even close to leaving it.

The dilemma. I couldn't leave the cart and go get my car because someone could steal all my treasures. My only option was to somehow get the cart to my car with wheels that did not roll. Did I mention that carts weigh 33 pounds empty? Mine wasn't empty. So, I picked up one end of the cart up and moved it. Then I took the other end of the cart and moved it. This was a very, very, slow arduous, laborious process full of great hardships and requiring a great deal of strength and vigor. I did this for several minutes before I had to rest to find my area of tranquility, my mental calm. Yeah right. I had to rest because the damn cart probably weighed 70 pounds at this time and I was literally inching it toward my car. Sweat was pouring off my body. After a brief repose I continued my trek the same way. One end carried, then the next end. When retelling this story someone asked why I didn't call customer service. I reminded them that I was at Walmart not Macy's or Nordstrom's. I was at Walmart.

I have no idea how long it took me to get this stupid cart to my car. I'm going to guess 20 to 30 minutes. That's 20 to 30 minutes to stew in my own anger. None of my meds or the voices in my head could help me at this point. No one else helped either. That really pissed me off too. I'm sure it was fun to watch - there might even be a youtube video of it somewhere with me fighting this cart every little step of the way. At the very end when I was almost to the car a man helped me. He said the same thing had happened to him.

Was it worth it you might ask. Well, this is one of the bargains I got that day - it was 50% off.

It now lays broken and sad in our yard. A cruel reminder of that day.

It supposedly counts down the number of days until Christmas except that you actually have to manually change the days yourself. Yeah, I'm going to do that. When the ice and sleet hit (for real this time) it fell over and broke. I'm glad it broke - I hate that sign. It mocks me.

So there it is my friends. My very own Christmas miracle. My Christmas Tale. My Walmart Christmas hell.

Gotta go, I just saw an ad for all the sales at Walmart! Maybe I can get a new Santa sign!

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.