The other day, I had one of those
moments in life that made me wonder why I leave the house at all
instead of ordering everything I need from Amazon.
The house was running low on supplies
such as dish soap and laundry detergent so it was time to head out to
one the local suburban shopping areas to venture into a department
store to participate in the dreaded Capitalism.
In exchange for legal tender, I will
be able to have clean clothes and dishes but must also pay the
psychic cost of having to tolerate coddled, white suburbanites and
their monstrous, ill-behaved offspring.
Being a part of a functioning society
has apparently become a lost art. No one knows how to drive in
traffic or in a parking lot. No one knows how to not stand in front
of a door so others can pass. Everyone walks around talking on their
phones with ear buds so they look and sound like they're talking to
themselves. Everyone is so self-important and full of themselves
that they can't see that I'm in a hurry to get away from them as fast
as I possibly can.
Children roam about the aisles
knocking items from the shelves leaving a path of destruction in
their wake. Screaming at the tops of their little lungs as they go. A beaten down parent stuck in the eye of this asshole hurricane, not
realizing that they are the grown up and have the power to put a stop
to the storm of petulance.
The most trying obstacle to getting
back to my stereo is always the person in line in front of me at the
checkout. It never fails. Regardless of how uneventful putting the
items in my cart may be, I have the worst luck at the cash register. Whether it's someone that doesn't know how gift cards work or it's
someone that tries to haggle over the price as if the store were in
the market scene in Raiders Of The Lost Ark. Hours of my life have been stolen by these mouth breathers.
This time around,
it was a mother with her five to six year old daughter. I should
have turned tail and ran to the longest line in the store when I saw
that the kid was sitting in the baskets that people pile up under the
register when they are done with them. I saw that they were almost
bagged up and ready to go so I held course. A near fatal mistake
that I immediately regretted.
As the woman was
cashing out, the child wandered off in the direction of the impulse
buy rack where there was a display of Valentine's Day stuffed animals
and picked one off the rack. It was at this point that I wish I was
smart enough to carry my earplugs with me at all times.
The ensuing
argument went as predicted:
“I want to take
this home.”
“No.”
“But I want to
take this home!!!”
“No.”
Followed by the
child rolling around on the floor with the stuffed animal for what
felt like hours until it was pried from her clutches and returned to
the shelf.
* * *
I am going to
pause here and attempt to describe the stuffed animal at center of
this great debate. It was a teddy bear that was made with several
bright colors so it looked as if it were tie-died. And it also had
the horn of a unicorn. All of the bears on this display were
brightly colored and had the parts of other animals sewn on to them.
This thing looked
as if Dr. Moreau had taken a heroic dose of acid and tried to cross a
bear with a narwal while at Build-A-Bear. I am very curious to know
what the poor kid in the Chinese sweatshop thinks of Americans after
having to manufacture this abomination for pennies a day.
* * *
None of
this would have been an issue but the woman did not move her cart or
her purchases while trying to not lose an argument to a five year old
so the clerk could not start ringing up my items until this sad drama
had moved along. We both stood there shrugging our shoulders and
wondering who was going to win.
The
shit show finally cleared out and my transaction was complete. I
fought the temptation to buy this horrible bearicorn for myself just
so I could catch up to them in the parking lot to gloat over my new
purchase.
Scarring
a child for life by going, “Ahhh-haaa!!! I've got your stupid bear
thing and you don't!!! I'm an adult with a job and can buy things if
I want to!!!” Followed with a “You should have been a blow job or
an abortion, you little monster, but your mother was too much of a
prude.”
I must
be growing as a person. I didn't make a frivolous purchase or
verbally assault a child and her mother. That's a sure sign of
progress.
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