|"Here's the canned tomatoes." ..."Sir, that's an economy sized jar of Preparation H." ...."Yeah, I don't actually work here."|
Before we head out to attempt a fraction of Monday's errands, I wanted to send out a huge congratulations to the two ladies who checked out in front of me on Saturday. Let me just say that I love being stuck in line. I love it even more when that opportunity presents itself as a learning experience. My love doubles over and turns into two magical intertwining rainbows caressing a unicorn, when I get to go through that learning experience with the twins.
You guys worked as a team to hold up a line for twenty five minutes, but that doesn't make me angry. That makes me appreciate the time you provided me to make little miniatures of Rodin's Thinker out of Rice Krispy Treats for the twins while you "price matched".
"It never takes us this long."
I nodded. "Yes, I'm sure you drag a two-foot tall stack of other store's ads wherever you go. personally, I can't leave the house without every Teen Beat I've ever bought. Because you never know when someone will want to know Jonathan Taylor Thomas' birthday and favorite color."
"The cashier never gives us this much trouble."
"Oh, is there a cashier buried under all eight hundred of your Gatorades? I thought she was the lady who killed herself five minutes ago and being kept on ice by the Klondike Bars. Apparently, she was willing to do anything for one except help you ring up this purchase."
*hangs up phone* "We'll go through every single one of these items to get this right."
"You probably should. Because I could swear you were just openly discussing your tax evasion. Getting those Koolaid packets ten for a dollar should ease that crippling blow from the IRS. They respect thrift, you know....also "Grape-a-licious" if memory serves me correctly."
I watched as the cashier triumphantly resurrected herself from under a palate of corn dogs. "That'll be..."
(I waited for the enevitable miniscule total I'd become accustomed to from watching hours of Extreme couponing. What would it be? Five dollars? Four dollars and thirty cents? Three dollars even? The suspense was killing me. It also may have been Butch gnawing through my right wrist from hunger. My bloodied stump and I waited for the savings to be revealed.)
"....two hundred dollars." One of the women forked over her credit card, happy as a clam whose physique has been carefully sculpted from years of corn dogs.
So, congrats, ladies of Walmart. What you lacked in actual savings, you gained in the actual aneurism you gave me from the screams of my children. Keep it up. I'm sure TLC will be here at any moment to beam you up.
Until Next Time, Readers!