A Journey to the Pits of Hell

My after work mission tonight was quite simple, head to the store and pick up four little items. It would be a simple task had it not been for my destination; the dreaded Walmart.

Now before anyone gets their panties in a bunch, I should explain that I do not like Walmart myself. In our area, however, there is a virtual monopoly on supermarkets. That company has practices which are just as, if not worse, than Walmarts. My logic states, if I'm gonna shop at some asshole's store, I might as well do so at the one with the lower prices.

The list was as follows

* Toilet Paper
* Garbage Bags
* Milk
* Chocolate (per request of the wife)

Simple enough, would you not agree?

As I come around the corner of the store I notice the parking lot is surprisingly plump. This kind of makes sense as it is around dinner time when most people get off of work. As I meander about looking for an acceptable spot, I see the most lowly of drivers: the lurker.

The lurker seeks to gain a spot closest to the door, what I call 'Rock Star Parking.' Really there's nothing wrong with lurking, it's an acceptable part of the shopping experience. The problem lies when there are open spots seven rows down from the start of the aisle. Yes, that extra fifty feet or so is a monumental walk for these people. Perhaps Walmart should provide workers to carry them to and fro across the lot.

And there were four of these people, all in the 30s or so, waiting patiently at various strategic positions. I can only aspire to be so dedicated in my later years.

I stroll into the store with a clear plan of attack to minimize time spent in the store. **Brief tangent, this Walmart is located directly across the street from a large trailer park. Accident? I think not. ** My first mission is to obtain the garbage bags which proved to be of little difficulty.

Next came the toilet paper where I encountered one of the most perplexed individuals I have ever seen. She stared at the toilet paper as if she were trying to unravel the secret to String Theory or something of that nature. I had no idea so much thought went into this product and I briefly considered whether or not I had been going about my toilet paper purchasing the wrong away.

Alas, I moved towards the type we usually get when I found myself semi-blocked with an eye shifter. See this purpose, for whatever reason, feels some type of innate shame in purchasing toilet paper. I do not get this and merely want her to move out of my way. Lady, I poop, you poop, everyone poops and something's gotta clean up the mess. With ninja-like precision, she grabs a package and quite literally runs off.

Whew, half way done.

Next comes the chocolates. A little Ghirardelli Peanut Butter squares should do the trick. As I reach for the package, it vanishes in thin air. Where ever could it have gone??

I look to my right and there stands a grouchy looking older woman.

"This one's mine," she shrieks.

Ok.... didn't realize we were claiming packages of chocolates which such ferocity, but I will gladly concede that you own that particular one. As I walk away I cautiously glance over my shoulder to ensure she's not going to perform some kind of surprise attack because I stole one of 'her' packages. In my head I'm picturing a headline that says "Young Man Killed at Local Walmart Over Bag of Chocolate." Yikes.

Finally I make my way to the dairy section. Apparently a memo was passed around stating that everyone could park their carts in front of the milk coolers. I didn't get that memo, so obviously I was unaware of it.

As I move a cart out of the way I hear a booming voice yell, "Hey, what are you doing with my cart!"

I reply that I am merely trying to grab a jug of milk and needed to move his cart out of the way. With an evil eye my wife would be proud of, he attempted to stare me down with fear. After dealing with ninja-toilet paper lady and deranged chocolate lady, I stood my ground. The milk was mine.

Success is at hand, I now possess all four of the items I came for. Now for a quick self-check out and I can mosey on home.

Or.... maybe not.

I dedicate myself to a particular line. Personally I'm not big on line jumping for the same reason I don't switch lanes in traffic. As soon as I move out of that lane, it starts moving. Tonight, this would prove to be a poor decision.

The woman ahead of me had a cart full of goods. I'm not talking about a couple of big things, I'm saying she had at least 25 cans of Chef Boyardee.

Whatever, I'm in no hurry and this trip as already been hellacious. Then she takes her time CAREFULLY scanning each item.

Here's my beef, first if you're gonna use self-checkout, know what you're doing. It's usually not that hard to scan a barcode. That's why they often pay minimum wage to cashiers.

Second, if you're going to the self-checkout line, don't bring a full fucking cart. Self-checkout is designed for people with a small or medium number of items, not for someone with a hundred items in their cart.

Lastly, if you cannot use the self-checkout, and you have a cart full of goods, in no way in holy hell should you use the self-checkout line. If so, I reserve the right to throw my toilet paper at you and ask you if you ate paint chips as a kid. If that's not in the Constitution, it sure as hell should be.

Oh and one last amendment, do not pay with a pack of one dollar bills. No one wants to wait while you attempt to feed 75 dollar bills into the machine. Who the hell has that many dollar bills to begin with? I hope to God you are not a stripper. That alone is enough to make me want to use my garbage bags and toilet paper in unison.

The moral of the story, just because you need a mere four items from the store does not mean your mission shall go peacefully. I didn't need a drink after work initially. I sure as hell do now.