Adventures in Walmart

I thought about trying to come up with an incognito name for this infamous store but didn't for several reasons. First, it was just too long of a nickname to call it 'The store I go to simply because there is no Target or Publix in my town.' And second, everyone knows what store I'm taking about anyway.

The first incident happened a couple weeks ago. We needed to get the tires changed on the van and Matt works so much that it just doesn't make sense for him to go. I happily (and stupidly) offered to take the van in while the older two were in homeschool PE at the Y. It's an hour class, surely I will have enough time.

Sometimes my optimism gets in the way of real life.

So I dropped the van off, fending off ridiculous questions such as "Would you like to add the $8 lifetime rotation service fee?" and "Do your tires have (some weird name) screws?" I don't know the answer to any of that. Always happens when I take the cars in to get fixed. If Matt can't take them in, I'm stuck with it. I just rattle off the phrase that Matt told me to say, such as "We need to have the tires aligned and can you please check the inside of the left tire?" I dread follow up questions like "When was the last time they were rotated?" or  "Does this car happen to have a winglehopper?" or some such nonsense. Let's be honest here. Do I look like I would know the answer to any of these questions? I haven't seen my hairbrush for months and my toddler son has a pretty pink pacifier. Don't come to me looking for answers.

Anyway, right after I handed the attendant the keys, I noticed something about Noah. There was a cloud of stink surrounding him. Normally this would not be a problem, I'd head on home and change his diaper (I stopped carrying the diaper bag on quick grocery trips years ago).

Once again, my optimism failed me.

There I was, stuck in Walmart, dirty diapered baby in my arms. I bought a small bag of diapers, closing my eyes for a moment to imagine the huge box of diapers I had just bought that were sitting in Noah's room. I didn't buy wipes. At the time, I reasoned that it was just one diaper and I could just use wet paper towels in the bathroom. I now realize that the reason I didn't buy wipes is that I am an idiot.

I put him on the changing table and began the process. The paper towels were the cheap ones (obviously) and practically disintegrated upon contact with water. He was fussing and wailing the whole time. After the change, I put him in the cart and took a good look at him. Shirt all gross from lunch, nose snotty, big bruise on his forehead from trip down the stairs, dirty bare feet. It was like a screen shot of "Babies of Walmart."

The cashier that day told me I should keep a spare diaper in my car. Yes, thank you. How helpful.

And gosh darn it if I didn't find a diaper in the trunk of the van later that day.

The second incident happened a couple days ago. It was election day and I stocked up on some things for the long night ahead.  I got in line behind a lady who seemed quite normal. She had a separate little bundle of items after the main bulk of her items had been paid for. She told the cashier that she was price-matching that section with the Winn-Dixie ad. They were all buy one, get one deals. The cashier explained that they have to match it with WD's price, not Walmart's. Made sense to me but apparently it befuddled the nachos out of this lady. She began to get all huffy and a manager was called over to try and placate the customer. I quietly loaded my items back into the cart and got in the next line. That cashier and I exchanged knowing glances as the lady next to us began to get more and more vocal. My cashier rang up my items and I stated "Nothing says election night like moscoto and Cheetos. This is why I love America." Every time alcohol is rung up at Walmart, the phrase "Does customer look over 40?" pops up on the screen. Sometimes they will slide their eyes over to my face and push a button. You did not just say yes. That's right, you'd better card me.

Anyway, toward the end of my shopping experience, the irate customer said "I have no words for how angry I am. I am just so angry I'm shaking. I can't tell you how angry I am. Something will be done about this. There are just no words."

I leaned over to my cashier and whispered "Sure seems like she has words, doesn't it?"