Wal-Mart Story 1: The Merit of Cash
You may have noticed that I numbered this story…. Story 1. That’s because whenever I go to Wal-Mart, something stupid always happens to me, so I am sure I will have another stupid Wal-Mart story in the near future. I hate going to Wal-Mart, but they have low prices and a nice variety and Phyllis didn’t raise no fool. Sometimes you just do what you gotta do.
This story happened a couple weeks ago. Beth went to work at 6: 30 a.m. and I got up when Ava started to fuss. I was up late, couldn’t sleep, which was nothing new for me. It was hard to get out of bed; a gentle rain was falling outside my window and an occasional roll of thunder yawned its way across the grey morning sky. I stayed under the covers as long as I could, until Ava was good and mad. Finally I staggered to her room, still half asleep, where she greeted me with a happy, “Hi!“ Bleary eyed, I changed her diaper, then trudged up the stairs. Coffee, I thought to myself. My only salvation is coffee right now.
I poured Ava a sippy cup of milk and she took off to the living room to feed it to her bunny. I opened the lazy-susan and spun it ‘round for the coffee. The coffee! Where’s the damn coffee?! Oh no. Apparently the Coffee Crook snuck into the kitchen stole all my coffee during the night. Crap. I looked outside and the rain laughed at me as it dripped off the eaves. Normally I wouldn’t even dream of going to Wal-Mart with Ava in this kind of weather. But we’re talking about coffee. This was serious.
So I got the kiddo ready to go, journeyed to Wal-Mart in the rain and jogged through the wet parking lot (which Ava thought was great fun) and into the store. We walked past the senior citizen greeter, who was dozing in his chair and I navigated my way to the coffee. I didn’t take me long to find it; I’ve got a nose for this kind of stuff. But now was the hard part: I usually get Folgers for my “everyday” coffee, but for some reason the MJB looked appealing today. To complicate things, Hills Brothers was on sale. I could save 14 cents per can if I got the Hills Brothers, and for some reason, this trivial sum suddenly seemed like a significant amount of money. While I was considering the economics of my coffee decision, Ava pointed to a rather, um, robust woman walking by: “Cow!” she said happily.
“No, Ava,” I said quietly. “That’s not a cow.”
“COW!” she insisted.
“No sweetie, that’s not a cow,” I whispered. “That’s a fat lady.”
She contemplated this concept, which gave me sufficient time to come to my coffee conclusion. I went with Hills Brothers (who I noticed changed their label from their trademark coffee-drinking Arab to a profile shot of a decidedly American-looking man sipping a cup). I took a can off the shelf, then decided to get two for good measure (after all, I would be saving 28 cents). With two coffee cans in one arm and my daughter in the other, my balancing act headed to checkout.
On our way there, she again pointed at another passing woman, “Cow!”
Just keep walking, I thought to myself.
Now, one thing I am very good at is picking the wrong checkout lane, no matter what store I happen to find myself in. The one I chose this time looked like a can’t-miss slam dunk. Just one person was in line, and she looked like she was just about finished. I put my cans of coffee on the rubbery conveyor belt and reached for my wallet. That’s when I overheard the conversation in front of me. It seems the customer had a check card that had expired. “I don’t understand,” the lady said, looking a bit embarrassed. “I didn't know these things expired. Oh well, I’ll just use my credit card.” The clerk ran the credit card. As we waited for the little computer thingy to do it’s thing, Ava pointed at Bad Check Card lady and said matter-of-factly, “Cow!”
“Sshhhhh,” I scolded, although I had to sort of agree with her. The woman did have some heifer qualities about her.
The checkout clerk had that blank I-hate-my-job expression on her face as she looked at Bad Check Card lady and said, “I’m sorry, Ma’am, your card didn’t go through.”
“What? That’s crazy!”
“Sorry, Ma’am.”
“Well, I guess I’ll write you a check.”
“Cow!”
“No, Ava, she’s not a cow.”
So Bad Check Card lady wrote out a check for $18.75 (yes, all this fuss over $18.75!). The clerk asked her for her driver’s license. Now Bad Check Card lady was getting upset. “You need my license? Why?“
“That’s our policy, Ma’am.“
So she started to rummage through her purse, pretending to look for her license, her face becoming more and more crimson. Various objects emerged from her satchel: Orbit chewing gum, Chap-Stik, a green pen and various other purse-type stuff, but (just as I suspected) no license. “I can’t find it,” she snapped.
“Cow! Moooooo! Cow!”
The clerk switched on the blinking light above the cash register, which indicated that a supervisor was needed and that I had once again picked the wrong line. Disgusted, I started searching for another checkout lane to join with my cow-obsessed daughter and politically correct coffee cans.
The moral of this story is that a good ol’ $20 bill could have had this transaction taken care of in under 30 seconds. There are a few popular television commercials on right now that make fun of people who pay for things in cash, but I think old fashioned paper money still has plenty of merit. I don’t think it will ever go out of style.
Neither will cows.
This story happened a couple weeks ago. Beth went to work at 6: 30 a.m. and I got up when Ava started to fuss. I was up late, couldn’t sleep, which was nothing new for me. It was hard to get out of bed; a gentle rain was falling outside my window and an occasional roll of thunder yawned its way across the grey morning sky. I stayed under the covers as long as I could, until Ava was good and mad. Finally I staggered to her room, still half asleep, where she greeted me with a happy, “Hi!“ Bleary eyed, I changed her diaper, then trudged up the stairs. Coffee, I thought to myself. My only salvation is coffee right now.
I poured Ava a sippy cup of milk and she took off to the living room to feed it to her bunny. I opened the lazy-susan and spun it ‘round for the coffee. The coffee! Where’s the damn coffee?! Oh no. Apparently the Coffee Crook snuck into the kitchen stole all my coffee during the night. Crap. I looked outside and the rain laughed at me as it dripped off the eaves. Normally I wouldn’t even dream of going to Wal-Mart with Ava in this kind of weather. But we’re talking about coffee. This was serious.
So I got the kiddo ready to go, journeyed to Wal-Mart in the rain and jogged through the wet parking lot (which Ava thought was great fun) and into the store. We walked past the senior citizen greeter, who was dozing in his chair and I navigated my way to the coffee. I didn’t take me long to find it; I’ve got a nose for this kind of stuff. But now was the hard part: I usually get Folgers for my “everyday” coffee, but for some reason the MJB looked appealing today. To complicate things, Hills Brothers was on sale. I could save 14 cents per can if I got the Hills Brothers, and for some reason, this trivial sum suddenly seemed like a significant amount of money. While I was considering the economics of my coffee decision, Ava pointed to a rather, um, robust woman walking by: “Cow!” she said happily.
“No, Ava,” I said quietly. “That’s not a cow.”
“COW!” she insisted.
“No sweetie, that’s not a cow,” I whispered. “That’s a fat lady.”
She contemplated this concept, which gave me sufficient time to come to my coffee conclusion. I went with Hills Brothers (who I noticed changed their label from their trademark coffee-drinking Arab to a profile shot of a decidedly American-looking man sipping a cup). I took a can off the shelf, then decided to get two for good measure (after all, I would be saving 28 cents). With two coffee cans in one arm and my daughter in the other, my balancing act headed to checkout.
On our way there, she again pointed at another passing woman, “Cow!”
Just keep walking, I thought to myself.
Now, one thing I am very good at is picking the wrong checkout lane, no matter what store I happen to find myself in. The one I chose this time looked like a can’t-miss slam dunk. Just one person was in line, and she looked like she was just about finished. I put my cans of coffee on the rubbery conveyor belt and reached for my wallet. That’s when I overheard the conversation in front of me. It seems the customer had a check card that had expired. “I don’t understand,” the lady said, looking a bit embarrassed. “I didn't know these things expired. Oh well, I’ll just use my credit card.” The clerk ran the credit card. As we waited for the little computer thingy to do it’s thing, Ava pointed at Bad Check Card lady and said matter-of-factly, “Cow!”
“Sshhhhh,” I scolded, although I had to sort of agree with her. The woman did have some heifer qualities about her.
The checkout clerk had that blank I-hate-my-job expression on her face as she looked at Bad Check Card lady and said, “I’m sorry, Ma’am, your card didn’t go through.”
“What? That’s crazy!”
“Sorry, Ma’am.”
“Well, I guess I’ll write you a check.”
“Cow!”
“No, Ava, she’s not a cow.”
So Bad Check Card lady wrote out a check for $18.75 (yes, all this fuss over $18.75!). The clerk asked her for her driver’s license. Now Bad Check Card lady was getting upset. “You need my license? Why?“
“That’s our policy, Ma’am.“
So she started to rummage through her purse, pretending to look for her license, her face becoming more and more crimson. Various objects emerged from her satchel: Orbit chewing gum, Chap-Stik, a green pen and various other purse-type stuff, but (just as I suspected) no license. “I can’t find it,” she snapped.
“Cow! Moooooo! Cow!”
The clerk switched on the blinking light above the cash register, which indicated that a supervisor was needed and that I had once again picked the wrong line. Disgusted, I started searching for another checkout lane to join with my cow-obsessed daughter and politically correct coffee cans.
The moral of this story is that a good ol’ $20 bill could have had this transaction taken care of in under 30 seconds. There are a few popular television commercials on right now that make fun of people who pay for things in cash, but I think old fashioned paper money still has plenty of merit. I don’t think it will ever go out of style.
Neither will cows.
