Thankfully, I had the day off from work today. I was unfit for duty, and thanks to a new benefits package I scored extra holiday time including the first business day after New Year's Day. Only four days into the year, and it couldn't have come sooner. The thought of going back into "that building" makes my skin crawl. In fact, I will probably stand outside "that building" tomorrow morning looking at the revolving door spin around a few thousand times before I have no choice but to step into the class 5 rapids.
(Right now I have both index fingers in my ears and I am doing the lalalalalalalalalala mantra trying to shake the thought of going into "that building" again out of my mind. Der, I am typing with my penis, and because of God's special little gift to me I am able to do so with impressive speed and surgical precision.)
Because the condition of my elephant man leg has been downgraded from "sheer agony" to "very painful" I decided to venture out of the house to get some fresh air on my last day of freedom. Watching another episode of The Smoking Gun's: World's Dumbest Hillbillies threatened to make me as stupid as the felon who thought it was a good idea to sign the waiver form allowing his face to be shown while being carted off to jail. You're a genius.
I didn't have much on my plate aside from a couple of errands and a vet appointment at 3:20 in Weymouth. Plenty of time to jerk it up. I figured most people would be at work, and I could zip into Walmart to pickup the new George Forman 360 Grill I've had my eye on lately. Time to be the lean mean grilling machine. Gotta have the right tools to build the cathedral.
When I pulled into the parking lot I shit my pants. I kid. I kid. Not literally, but figuratively of course. Who shits their pants? In this day and age? Yeah, so I was taken aback by how many other people were shopping on a Monday afternoon. I mean, didn't they have to work?
Then it hit me. Oh right, I am at Walmart, the death of hope.
I've been to Walmarts from Brunswick, Maine to Kahului, Hawaii and everywhere in between. Each store has the following commonalities:
- Wandering children who are trying to find their mother/auntie/grammy/uncle with a DVD clutched in their sticky little hands.
- Overt child abuse both physically and mentally. Put down the fucking DVD. We ain't gettin' it no matter what you do. Don't make me. Put it down. (The DVD is carelessly discarded in the underwear aisle for someone else to deal with) *SLAP*
- Pungent and overwhelming odor of cigarette smoke. And not just the kind where someone just had a butt on the way in, and it's still sort of lingering on their clothes. No, this is like from 3 days ago. Fishbowling heaters in the car and the filthy apartment while watching hours of the The Smoking Gun's: World's Dumbest Hillbillies marathon.
- FUCKING four cashiers on-duty. Always. And don't get me started on who these four people are manning these checkout counters. Don't get me started.
This particular Walmart, located in Quincy Point, skews more sketchy than the average store. Knowing what I was in for, I put my headphones on and blared Led Zeppelin's Presence drowning out the soundtrack of despair. I bobbed my head on my way to the Kitchen & Dining section while one malnourished cretin after another carelessly maneuvered their beyond-capacity shopping carts though the crowded aisles with the same entitled determination as ambulances racing through rush hour traffic.
Oh to ride the wind, To tread the air above the din Oh to laugh aloud, With dancing eyes we caught the crowds, yeah
I found the exact grill I was looking for in record time. Yup, Tres Platas. I fired the box on my shoulder and made my way to the front of the store. I scanned the crowd from whence I came looking for the express lane. Fortunately, I wouldn't be standing behind anyone with 4 bags of JAX, a carton of Mountain Dew, 7 DVDs, a TiVo, surround sound, a neck pillow, fish tank with eleven gold fish requiring individual price checks, strawberry flavored Slim-Fast milkshake mix, a fishing rod, twin bed fitted sheets, a dozen socks, 5 packages of razor blades, a ConAir foot bath, three 24 packs of Charmin, Spiderman pen/lolipop, Madden NFL 10 for the Wii, motor oil, an EPSON color printer, a set of ivory hidden bracket shelves which are impossible to hang unless you are a master carpenter, tupperware, 9 more DVDs, a bag of Three Muskateer mini candy bars, a 40 lb. bag of Purina puppy chow, cat litter, bird seed, pink lemonade mix, a plant, Dentyne gum, a diet doctor pepper from the sucker fridge at the beginning of the qeue, baby wipes, an emory board, EPT pregnancy test, Sour Cream and Chive Pringles, 4 more DVDs, Bisquick pancake mix, an iron, bicycle pump, 3 pack of sports bras, a BRITA water filter, children's boxing gloves, marbles, and finally an UltraHD Flip video camera.
Oh wait, here's another family member rushing to the cash register with more precious necessities. Thank goodness we didn't forget the frozen sausage breakfast sandwiches, the hair dryer, nail polish, 2 more DVDs, Funions, a PSP Go with 3 games, onion bagels, a beige short-brimmed hat with a dark brown flourish silk screened at an aggressive angle, Fun Dip, and a slice of pizza from the in-house pizza shop. Already paid for that though.
Cash or credit? Do you really need to ask?
Yeah, I would be dealing with none of that horseshit today. I would be making my way right over to the short express lin…no fucking way.
Oh The mighty arms of Atlas, Hold the heavens from the earth From the earth... Earth…
Speedy checkout? Fuck you speedy checkout sign. Don't fucking mock me.
And she said "Don'tcha want, a-don'tcha want go get, go get cocaine" Hadn't planned to, could not stand'a try it, fry it, ow Now, now, now, now, yeah
The lady in front of me kept looking back at me while I counted the items in her shopping cart. Because she had containers I continued to find smaller merchandise tucked away. Pretty sneaky sis. She was DEFINITELY over the 12 item limit, but at this point I was trying to determine by exactly how much.
Personally, I won't go into the express line if I have 13 items. Out of principle. And when I do have 12 items exactly, I find myself counting them out so those behind me can hear me.
The lady realized I had a pretty accurate count on her, and she kept glaring at me. I held her stare while smirking at her and then glancing down at her cart. Not to be a bully, but rather to let her know that I thought she sucked. And she did, because my count was now at a solid 17. In my book, totally unacceptable.
Oh would you please come on? For Christ's sake old lady you've had the manager come to assist you on every transaction. Twenty minutes passed, and I only moved three feet. 1.5 of that was because the dude in front of the hoarder decided to stuff his merchandise in the candy shelf and walk out of the store in a huff. Can't say that I blame him, but I have a cathedral to build.
Nobody's fault but mine
Nobody's fault but mine
Trying to save my soul tonight
It's nobody's fault but mine
Gotcha! Twenty one items—it's official. You know you suck. I know you suck. The smelly guy behind me knows you suck, but more importantly, the kind yet incompetent fossil working the cash register knows you suck. And that hurts you doesn't it? Look at the disgust on her face. It takes her on average about 90 seconds per item and here you come in with 21 items.
I was burned in the heat of the moment,
Though it couldn't have been the heat of the day
When I learned how my time had been wasted,
(And a) tear fell as I turned away
I finally got to the register and greeted the cashier with a smile. It wasn't her fault. It was my fault. I never should have stepped foot into this building. It's not worth it. I could have picked up the same God Damned grilling machine for a $1.43 more at the mall and would have been in and out in 10 minutes. It's like my old man who will travel .75 miles out of the way to get gas for $2.53 versus $2.59. And then wait in line because 23 other a-holes are privy to this great deal in town and think they are putting the screws to the "man". Great, so you have an 18 gallon tank with probably 2 gallons left. You saved yourself about a buck. I am 14 miles ahead of you and will get the better parking spot.
Which brings me to my point (Quick, think of a point. It's getting fucking late and I am tired and I am not sure how to wrap up this rant and I'll have yet another deadline to hit tomorrow night. Shit, I have 361 more deadlines to hit. Boy, am I going to fall on my face.) which is time is the single most important thing we have in this world, and just like the old cashier can't give me back my 25 minutes nor can I give you back this 25 minutes. Spend it wisely kids. Spend it wisely.
You are welcome.
Posts
