A Rant

I hate Wal-Mart. HATE it, with capital letters. Possibly even bold capital letters. HATE. Yes. I think that sums it up. I'm sorry if you love Wal-Mart and think its low prices and mind-numbingly large inventory are worth the ridiculous crowds and 24-hour chaos, but I respectfully disagree. There's just something about the place that feels disagreeable.

Sadly, I am sometimes driven to the Mart against my better judgment. Tonight, for example, on a mission for either camoflauge or patriotic wrapping paper. I had exhausted 4 previous options to no avail (apparently holiday wrapping does not come in "USA" versions), I was also craving Honey Bunches of Oats and already in dangerous proximity to the Mart. (In my mind, "the Mart" sounds very ominous. With DUN DUN DUN drums.) I could think of only one place where I could find an unreasonable selection of wrapping paper AND my favorite cereal without driving across town again.

The regret was instant. Before I even got onto official Mart property, a fellow Wal-Mart visitor whose driving skills left much to be desired nearly boxed me out of the parking lot entrance. Then there was what I affectionately refer to as "parking hell." Thanks to Jerkstore boxing me out, I had to use the lot entrance closest to the building. There were approximately five thousand people in the 30-yard stretch between the entrance and my parking space and not a single one was looking where they were walking. I managed to park without mowing anyone over (and I found a stall with only ONE Wal-Mart shopping cart in it!) but that was about the end of my success.

I did find red wrapping paper without any snowflakes or angels on it (forget about the camo, no way am I going to SIX stores to make boxes at work look cute), but my aunt called just as I got to the cereal aisle (where there were also about five thousand people - possibly the same crowd from the parking lot following me to see how long I could keep it together) and that was the end of it. I could barely navigate the aisle and pick out my cereal (which was, I'll grant, ridiculously cheap) while holding onto my phone. I don't know what posessed me to answer my phone in a crowed Wal-Mart to begin with. My poor aunt, she probably thinks I'm either very rude or else losing my mind. Anyway, I forgot to buy the eggs my husband asked me to pick up (and a dozen eggs really isn't much to ask from your wife) and I didn't even look at the address labels I needed. It was like some kind of survival instinct propelling me out of the store.

I had to turn the Christmas station on in the car to restore my faith in humanity, which must have worked because when I was pulling out, the only crowd I even noticed was a little family of four tiny girls, all holding hands, and the one on the end was holding their dad's hand. They were dancing into the Mart and I have to admit they looked like a Christmas card (which is difficult to do in parking hell).

Still, faith restored or no, I am not planning to do my holiday shopping at a certain big box store. I got out alive this time, but you can only press your luck so much.