A Public Sanity Announcement

Shopping at a large retail store (aka UberCrapMart) is hell on earth.  Let's face it.  No one wants to go, yet it's so damn convenient, we do it anyway.  I happen to live within five minutes of a super-sized Wally-World.  When I run out of toilet paper, juice boxes, ketchup, dog food, or tampons, it's just a three minute ride away.  Yet if given the choice, I'll drive the extra ten minutes to a smaller yet more manageable grocery store or Target. But why, you may ask, do I pass up on the tempting convenience of a one-stop shop so close to me?


Let's do a quick run down of a typical trip to Super HellMart...


I pull into the parking lot and immediately dodge dozens of twenty year old Chevy Cavaliers, Oldsmobile, and Caravans  ducking and weaving diagonally through the lot searching out the perfect space. Once I pull into a seemingly safe space, I discover that six people left their carriages in it even though there is a carriage coral a mere two spaces away. Weighing the risks of  getting dings on my car's paint job vs. getting run down by a 1982 F250 with a Calvin pissing NASCAR sticker, I decide to stay where I am and head for the entrance.


My four year old and I walk into store, and try to avoid the over-sized kid carriage that he always wants to ride in.  The few times I've given in, we crashed into every display stand in the center aisle and got into at least two hit and runs before I ditched it and stole someone else's mostly empty carriage.  After a very mature argument over why the smaller carriage is the one we are sticking with, we say hi to the friendly senior citizen greeter and high-tail it for the toilet paper section.  However, on the way, we pass the cereal aisle and I agree that Cookie Crisp can come home with us with the strict understanding that it is my sugar cereal and maybe I'll share it. Then I remember we need yogurt and I make a bee-line for the dairy section. On the way back from dairy-land I remember we are definitely out of tortilla chips - so that means we also need salsa.  But I like to mix my salsa with diced tomatoes so we walk the half mile to the canned tomato section.

www.peopleofwalmart.com

At this point I am exhausted but we still need dog food so I gather my remaining stamina and make a compass heading for the east side of the store. Once we acquire the doggy vittles, I've decided I can no longer stand all the near misses with cranky people on Rascals. The sound of screaming moms, crying kids, and old guys hollering, "MARGE!!! THEY GOT THE GOOD PEANUT BRITTLE!" has driven me to the brink of sanity.  I push the carriage at warp speed towards the the check-out lane and after five minutes of cardio I make it.... to find out that of the twenty-five check out aisles in the store, only two are currently in operation.


Shoot me. Now.


While waiting the half hour in line, my son has decided it's time to make a play for some take-home candy. I say, "No." He says, "Why?"  "Because." " Because why?"  "Because I already let you have candy this morning after breakfast (oops)." "But I want more." "No." "Why?" "Because" .....  And finally, after five people in front of me paid with paper checks (really people? really?), it's my turn to escape and be free.  We pay, we flee, we get home...


...And I still have no toilet paper.


And this, my caped friends, is why I try to avoid convenience like the plague... yet I am constantly defeated again and again.  (Thank God for wine).