I will admit to everyone, right here, right now, that I avoid Walmart at all costs. I would rather fake my own death so I could move to a non-extradition country if it meant being able to miss all the joys and wonderment of stepping one foot inside any Walmart. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate Walmart, I just hate going in Walmart, parking outside of Walmart, the way Walmart smells, the people who shop at Walmart, and most employees at Walmart, and okay, you caught me, I hate Walmart. I don’t know if y’all have Walmarts where y’all live, I don’t know if y’all have ever seen a Walmart in person, or if all of y’all have even heard of Walmart, so y’all will just have to fallow this story and we can all assume that y’all are fully aware what a Walmart is. My wife knows that I can’t stand going to Walmart for any reason, but last night she asked me to go, and without a single word, I went. Why? Who knows, it wasn’t like she offered me hot sex in the shower or anything. She just smiled at me, called me honey (she always calls me honey when she wants something), and said she would really appreciate it if I were to go to the Walmart for her. Damn.
Apparently she had stopped at the Walmart on her way home from work to get a few things, nothing out of the ordinary about that scenario, we give Walmart quite a bit of money each year. I wish I could claim Walmart as a dependent on my taxes. The reason she stopped in the first place is because my daughter texted her and asked if she would mind stopping and getting her tampons because she was out. While at Walmart my wife must have spotted a squirrel or something and decided to follow it around Walmart, except she missed the entire aisle that sells tampons and other feminine hygiene products. How do I know this factoid? Because she came home without the one reason she went to Walmart, the tampons. Shit happens, right. Now, I’m now stranger to tampons and feminine products, being married (twice) and having two daughters ensured I was always kept in the loop when one or all three of them were bleeding out. As well, I have 10 nieces ranging from (now) 13 – 19 years of age. Seems almost all of them had to have their first period at my house for some odd reason. Maybe I just scare the blood out of them who knows. The most uncomfortable I have ever been was having to show my 13 y/o niece how to use a tampon the first time because her mother was out-of-town and my wife and daughters were with her. They always say that some things can never be unseen, that is pretty high on my list and I have seen so really awful shit.
Anyway, back to my excursion into the local Walmart. I break my own dress-code when I go to Walmart, meaning I don’t where my slip on sandals or anything camouflage. I go dressed like I have a mirror in the house I just left and know how to use it. I know, I’m one in a million that do. What can I say, I care what I look like when I walk out the door. I’m not vain and don’t need to “represent”, but I don’t want to be the one that gets pointed at with someone mouthing WTF? about. Just like going to work, appearance is the first thing another person sees. Why don’t people shopping at Walmart understand that fact, that their first impression that they are leaving behind is not starting on a high note. I know why, because they really don’t give a rat’s ass of a shit to care that much. Sorry, when my people of Walmart faucet gets turned on it takes allot of force to twist that bitch shut. I know, I know, lighten up. Screw that, am I the only one who has ever observed the personal hygiene habits of most of the freaks who hit Walmart? Maybe it is just where I live, we are just a bunch of hillbillies and such. I might need to explore “Why people shop at Walmart looking like shit” in the future. I have done the research so I just hope I can stomach writing about it all. Just had a vurp, not a good sign.
I set off with my mission clear in my head and I will execute it flawlessly. Drive. Park. Tampons. Checkout. Parking lot. Drive home. No eye contact, no observing, and sure the hell not going to touch anything I don’t need to or speak with anyone unless I’m am bleeding out, and then that would be pretty questionable as well. The drive was pleasant, caught every red light with nobody around, the parking lot was packed at Walmart, there were shopping carts everywhere I looked, and as I was pulling into a handicap parking spot up front I noticed this lady (40ish I guessed) running while holding her pants up with one hand and texting with the other hand, simply amazing to watch. Let the games begin my minions! I made the command decision to grab a cart from the parking lot. Good thing I did because there were none to be found as I walked in. Damn it, the lady that was running into Walmart is waiting there like the cart-gods are going to shit her one. Fine, take mine, have a nice day, run along now. I went out to get myself another cart. Wouldn’t you know it, I got the one with the one really squeaky wheel on the back and missing the rubber part of the wheel in the front, bonus.
Intentionally I parked on the grocery side of the store because I wanted to get some oranges. First stop in Walmart and get the very last bag of oranges in sight, lucky me. Right? Wrong, the reason it was still there is because half of them were smashed up and dripping. How nice for me, put those back, lets look for a few single oranges perhaps. Great, they looked good, felt good, so I got three, and two grapefruit too. I decided to go around, way around by way of the back of the store so I could go to the shoe department to get some shoe freshener powder. Done. Out of the corner of my eye I see this rather large woman, when I say large I mean like 300 lbs plus, large, trying on what looks to be like a size 100kkk bra over the top of her faux fur coat. Why? WTF? She had me mesmerized, I was actually silently cheering her on because I knew if she tried hard enough she could get it hooked in back. Wrong, she fails. When she is done, she wads up the 43 yards of bra and tries to stuff it inside a kids size 4 shoe on the shelf. Didn’t make sense to me then and doesn’t make sense to me now, but that’s the way it all went down right there in the Walmart shoe department. Got what I needed, time to roll, well, squeak, well, I was moving nonetheless. Damn Walmart carts!
Next stop, feminine hygiene. I roll up onto the aisle and there are at least 14 women all staring at the tampons and pads like they never seen these amazing little blood suckers in person before. There was even one that had an advertisement “As Seen On TV” stuck on the shelf in front of it. Must not be a channel I watch. I know what brand, size, color, and deodorizer I was looking for, I could see it but couldn’t even get to it. What to do, muscle my way into the crowd of angry-looking women, say pardon me in the two languages I know, or just wait the herd out, maybe one will bleed to death and that will be the break I need. Tic toc tic toc tic toc, 4 minutes is long enough bitches, here I come ready or not. I was rude, I admit it, I reached in front of two of them, they snarled as if they wished to bite my hand or something. As I pulled my hand back with the correct box one of them turned to me, as if to ask me a question, then quickly stopped herself when she realized I was a man. Oh shit, there is about to be some scrapping in aisle 14 and the lone white man is not going to survive, he may be doomed. NOT, I placed the box of tampons in the cart and pushed my way through all the heifers, I have to do the same at the farm, accept my heifers are not so beefy.
I chose to self checkout because I really didn’t need any more assistance or lip from anybody. There are ten, count them, ten self checkout lanes at each end but only ONE is operational and there are a assload of people waiting. Nope, the twenty items or less lane is packed as well. Sombitch! Soon, I found a lone cashier motioning me to come to her lane, fair enough, let’s do this. She was nice enough, she should be greeting people at the door tho, 218 y/o and slower than honey in the winter in North Dakota outside in a drift of snow. Sheeeesh. Everything was cool until she grabbed the tampons, she began to blush and giggle a bit as well. Yea, yea, yea, you old dried up prune, I’m buying tampons. My luck kicks in right here, the fucking boxes bar code won’t scan, 92 tries old woman, and it still wont scan. Double damn! She called it in, someone came, then she left, I waited, she returned because she forgot what the hell she was looking at. Finally, she returns, types some bullshit in to override the price and the register rings up at $119.67. What? now we need an override for the override. Is that my stomach growling? In the end, I paid and got the hell out of the store.
I unlock my car, put the bag in the passenger seat, start the car, look up at the windshield, and see somebodies freaking business card under the wiper. I get out, grab it, toss it down without even looking, get back in, light me a cigarette and go to back out. Well, wait because 4 others are waiting for someone to pull out and can’t see my reverse lights in the dark. Hey, it was daylight when I came in, wasn’t it. Have I been in there that long? Did I lose time somehow, what day is it? Oh look, one of the fucktards is backing up to let me out, how kind. Drove home, got all the red lights except one, bonus time. Went inside, kissed my wife, handed my daughter her tampons, and began to walk away. I hear “thank you daddy” from my daughter. I replied, “anytime babygirl, anytime”. The end. Fuck Walmart! Is it just me or is it true that all Walmarts smell like piss and old people?
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