Due to the financial "snafu" detailed in my last blog, after a very long Monday I made my way to Walmart to shop. Following the company's proud tradition, the Walmart in West Des Moines is a cesspool of great bargains. I think I read in the paper it's already been condemned and scheduled for demolition. But the city council won't tell when it's coming down so they can remove two kinds of eyesores and societal blemishes with one bulldozer; that is, Walmart and its shoppers.
So, there I am, pushing my cart - alright, staggering behind my cart - wandering up and down the aisles and apathetically running my cart into the shelves, hoping items will fall into my cart so I won't have to expend the energy of picking them up and putting them in the cart myself.
I was so tired I seriously considered curling up for a quick nap in the produce section. Staring at romaine, the I must have been visualizing myself on a bed of lettuce too convincingly because a Walmart employee approached and asked me if I was feeling alright. I said yes and kept shopping.
When a second employee asked me the same question, I decided it was probably time to wrap it up and go home. But when my checker snapped me back into reality by asking me, "Is everything okay? You look terrible," I was just plain embarrassed.
Given the classy clientele at Walmart I must have looked like a walking corpse if THREE employees were so shocked by my appearance they asked me how I felt. And so, I can tell all of you exactly how I feel about my experience: Mortified. And now I'm going to bed.
1 year ago