Senior Moments

Don’t Go to Walmart if….

Okay, so maybe I should have said “Don’t go to Walmart if you’re in a bad mood,” or maybe even “I shouldn’t go to Walmart when I’m in a bad mood.”

But, honestly, it seems that going to Walmart makes me BE in a bad mood, so….

The other day I was in a bad mood. Actually, I was in a grand funk, a funk to beat all funks.

So, of course, I went to Walmart. Or rather I should say I had to go to Walmart, even though I was in a bad mood. I fought my way through the crowded aisles, those aisles that just seem to keep getting narrower and narrower.

The employees were blocking the aisles, holding very important conversations:

“So, did your ma ever find out about that itch?”

That left barely enough room for one cart to pass by. And of course, there were carts going in every direction. The employees didn’t seem to care. Customers are such a nuisance, right?

So I waited patiently (well, actually, I’m starting to fume), I mutter “Excuse me!” but noone seems to notice (the employees give me dirty looks). I get half way down the aisle, and I pull WAY over to the right side of the aisle and scope out the products on the shelf, trying to decide what I absolutely need to buy.

Someone needs to pass (and as I said the aisles are already overcrowded with shoppers and employees), so I move to let someone go by. Only the person doesn’t go by–instead, they pull up and stand and block the very shelves I was trying to look at. So I stand there and wait for THEM to finish shopping before I can resume my shopping–all because I was trying to be polite. (When will I ever learn? This happens SEVERAL times during every Walmart shopping trip!).

Anyway, so I finally have made my selections. I make it to the checkstand.

The checker sighs loudly as she looks at me and begins pulling my merchandise across the scanner. The look seems to say, “How DARE you actually make me WORK? Customers are SUCH a nuisance! But she scans, and I pay for my merchandise.

Someone I know is in line behind me–not unusual in this tiny boro I live in. She makes the mistake of asking me how I am, so I engage in discussion, and begin telling her some of the mundane but depressing things that are going on in my life.

I turn around to see if my groceries have been bagged and placed in my cart. And, well, the checker has bagged them, yes, and is standing there staring at me. My cart has 1 or 2 bags in it (how did they get there?). The checker is actually standing there waiting for ME to load the rest.

My friend begins to grab the bags to load into the cart for me, and I lose it.

“No,” shout I. “It’s HER job,” I say, pointing to the checker.

“Isn’t it?” I ask the girl.

“Yes,” she says, glaring at me, and still not making a move to load the groceries for me.

So we have a staring contest.

She finally loads the groceries (her supervisor was walking by), and as I push my cart toward the parking lot, I hear the girl and the other customers laughing at me.

Well, I’d probably have laughed at me, too. But I still wonder what happened to “customer service.” At any rate, you won’t find it at Walmart. (I usually buy groceries somewhere else–there I DO get service–and even smiles!). Ah, well, I’ve learned my lesson:

DON’T GO TO WALMART!

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