Of Ghosts, Goblins and Checkout Lines

Posted on November 1, 2013 under Storytelling with one comment

                                         ( Printed with permission from LAMD )

There’s only one thing scarier than Halloween night and that is spending time in Walmart the day after Halloween.  I’m a small town guy and I still haven’t quite adapted to big box stores.  As a matter of fact I don’t do particularly well in small stores either.  In other words, I’m not much of a shopper.  I can occasionally be found in the aisles of the local five and dime, a throwback to an earlier era when customer service and quality North American products were the norm.  The only other stores I spend any amount of time in are the supermarket, sporting goods retailer and book store – another entity facing extinction.

And yes, once a year, I make my pilgrimage to the big city to Moores Clothing for Men.  The people at Moores know and love and feast on men just like me.  They know we would rather have a root canal without freezing or dengue fever than to shop for anything, especially clothes.  I walk through the doors and tell them what I want, how much I have to spend and how long I am prepared to wait.  And, presto, I’m usually out the door in fifteen minutes, toting a few bags and, get this, hemmed pants.  The lady who lurks behind the curtain, a seamstress at the rear of the store, must be a distant relative of Houdini.

So here I am facing the Walmart greeter with a solitary pursuit – a bag of kitty litter.  You see, later today we leave for vacation and this is on the critical “to do” list.  We all know what it’s like trying to get out of town for a holiday.  You usually have six hours in which to complete twelve hours of tasks.  Getting chores done efficiently and promptly are paramount.

I would rather have my teeth flossed with a band saw than go into a big box store.  These stores have a penchant for confusing shoppers like me.  I have a better chance of navigating a corn maze while intoxicated than finding anything in Walmart.  After a few false starts I find the aisle with the kitty litter and miraculously, in less than five minutes, I am nearing the checkout lines.  I size up the situation and it is clear to anyone, that the short line, the line for speed and precision is number 4.  There are only two people in this line and one has just checked out.  The lady in front of me has nothing on the conveyor belt so I’m guessing that she’s picking up the National Enquirer or some chewing gum.  Checkout number 6 has several serious looking shoppers, a lineup to be avoided at all costs.  At this rate I will have achieved my quest – door to door in world record time.

Lineups are peculiar things.  When you are in a big hurry you will always choose the wrong line.  Always. I lift the box of unscented, clumping kitty litter onto the belt and wait to have my purchase rung in.  Unfortunately, the lady in front of me has cleverly concealed twenty half-price Halloween costumes over her arm.  She and the clerk are obviously friends and co-conspirators whenever they see a man in the lineup.  One by one, the costumes are laid out, scanned, fondled and commented on as if they were among the castoff wardrobe of Scarlett O’Hara.  Fifteen minutes later the torture session ends.  Of course, by this time, the other lineups are long gone and those people are starting their vacations early.  And when they finally open the third checkout, I am nearly trampled to death by the people behind me.  When I tender my $7.49, I am the only person left in ANY of the lineups.

As I am leaving the store, the thought crosses my mind.  I wonder if it’s possible to toilet train a cat.