What the hell? That isn't me! What was it about Walmart that turned me into such a vile creature?
I suppose it's because I was, in a sense, a prisoner of Walmart. I needed to purchase things and Walmart was the place to do that. Yet many of the items I purchased didn't last. They'd chip, shrink, snap, snag, warp, wear, or fade so easily. 'How frustrating', I'd think after pulling a newly purchased Walmart sweater from the washer, 'I just bought this sweater and it's already unraveling. I've only worn it twice.' That's your plan, though, isn't it Walmart? Why build things to last when you know people are willing to open their wallets and replace instead of repair? It's attractive to offer lower-priced items but the catch is they need to be replaced sooner. Although Walmart items seemed inferior I continued to buy there because it was cheap. It was also convenient. I'd get in, get what I'd need, and get out.
Except, I never really ever did get in and get out. The stores were giant, and getting around wasn't as easy as it seemed. Isles were crowded with heavy-set women pushing blue carriages that were packed with junk food and screaming toddlers. You knew these women, too, just wanted to get in and out, but the appealing toys, snacks and books placed with intention at a child's eye level prevented the moms, the women, to shop efficiently. They'd yell at the children each time they grabbed for something. And the children always grabbed for something, because that's what children do. What strategic placement. "Put that down! I ain't buying that for you, we ain't got the money." As she reaches for some Allen's Coffee Brandy.
The 20 cash registers on the front end seemed impressive, until you realized only 3 were open. When I approached the cash register I'd attempt a dialogue, but the cashier would be too embittered by the malevolent treatment Walmart and rude customers dished out she wasn't at all interested in chatting. The cashiers always made that clear. As I left the store to battle cars over the crosswalk an employee wanted to see my receipt and the receipt of every other customer. Way to trust your clientele, Walmart.
One day I had an epiphany. I needed to grab a couple of collapsible lawn chairs and I dreaded the thought of having to enter Walmart. I just didn't want the drama. A Rite Aid was located further down the road; I decided to drive there instead. The collapsible lawn chairs Rite Aid sold to me were priced about the same as the chairs I would have bought from Walmart. Granted these were on sale, but if they hadn't been on sale I would have only spent a couple more bucks. Was coughing up a fraction more of my hard earned money worth avoiding the misery that was shopping at Walmart?
Yes.
I began finding a plethora of alternative places to shop besides Walmart and I never looked back.
Then the other night I was out with some friends when I happened to take a nasty fall on my way back to the car. I lay crumpled on the pavement for a moment, mustering up the bravery to glance at my knees which were scraped up hard and bleeding with an increasing intensity. My friend, Candice helped me hobble to my car where I opened the glovebox and pulled out a handful of napkins and some Band-Aids. I was keeping my cool until I noticed a large flap of skin hanging down from my right knee.
"No," she answered, "They'll just clean you up and send you on your way. That's what we're doing now. They're going to tell you to ice them too, so you should get some ice."
"It's 9:00 at night, where am I going to get some first-aid ice packs?"
"There's a Walmart right across the street," she answered.
Walmart. Maybe I'd wait until I got home, but that was a 45 mile drive. My knees were beginning to sting and swell. It would be advantageous to ice them now. I scrolled through my mental Rolodex trying to think of some place, any place that would be open this late at night and would sell me what I needed. I didn't have too much time to ponder. I needed ice and bandages now. Walmart would have these items. Walmart was across the street. Walmart was open. Walmart, at that moment, would come to my rescue.
I thanked Candice for her help and drove to the dreaded store.
As I headed over I anticipated the rudeness with which I would inevitably be confronted. I also knew that although the store was open that didn't mean there would be people around to assist. The last thing I wanted to do was limp around the endless isles looking for bandages and ice packs. I decided to approach the greeter, show her my bloody knees and tell her I needed someone who could take me directly to the first-aid items.
When I did this the first words out of her mouth were: "Did you fall in our parking lot?"
I'm fine Walmart, thanks for asking.
"No," I said, "I fell across the street. But I'm hurt pretty bad. I'm not familiar with the store and don't want to walk around. I'd really like for someone to walk with me and show me where the bandages are."
The greeter looked down at my knees and then panned the front end for an available associate. There were slim pickings, as I knew there would be, and she cast her gaze back to me.
"Well," she said, "I know there are some Band-Aids in the furthest isle down on the left. If you look all the way down, that's where the Band-Aids are." She walked to the end of the two nearest isles and extended her arm and index finger into a point. "All the way down here."
I was incredulous. Calmly, I repeated: "I really would like someone to walk with me. I'll wait."
The greeter left her post, which she was also hesitant to do. I stood in the entry dabbing away the blood as it oozed from my knees. I was surprised that she was more concerned with leaving the doors unattended than she was about my welfare. What would happen to her, realistically, if suspended her role as an employee for two minutes to help me? Did Walmart have such a hold over her as well? Sad, sad sad.
The shift leader approached me in a hurry. She was visually shaking with concern over my situation. "Oh my God, are you ok? Do you want one of our motorized carriages so you don't have to walk?"
I beamed. This lady was wonderfully kind! "Thanks, no, I'll walk. I just want to get some bigger Band-Aids on my knees and to get some ice. I don't know my way around the store and figured someone who worked here could get them faster than I could." We walked to the isle where the Band-Aids were stocked (which, by the way, was not the last isle on the left.) I choose the size I thought would be appropriate. She opened the box so I could adhere them to my wound immediately. "Don't worry about paying for them first. I'm not worried about it." We were unsuccessful in finding ice packs so she suggested instead I buy a block of ice.
"How am I going to ice my knees with an entire block of ice?" I asked.
"We'll bag up some for you," she said. We walked back to the front end where she opened a register just for me. A couple other customers approached the register and began to unload their purchases from their carriages onto the belt. "This register isn't open," she quipped, "I'm helping this lady right now." Sweet.
Together the shift leader and I triple-bagged up two bags of ice. All the while, she continuously asked how I was. Did my knees hurt real bad? Did I have a long drive? Did I need anything else? How nice to have such a kind and helpful person tending to me. I thanked her over and over for her help. It wasn't as though she had saved my life, but she certainly helped to make an uncomfortable circumstance be more pleasant. I limped out of the store carrying my bags of ice and bandages. As I passed the greeter I smiled and said: "Thank you. I'm all set now." She glanced quickly in my direction, but when she saw it was me, she avoided eye contact and turned up her nose.
Fucking Walmart.
No comments:
Post a Comment