Holy mood swings, Batman!
Yesterday I was such a sweet, considerate person in so many different ways, it was ridiculous. Almost but not quite to the point of being nauseating. And today I seemed to be starting off on the same foot. Until I went shopping.
Jason and I took a trip to Walmart to buy some Goo Gone and contact lens solution (because they go so well together). Unfortunately, they were out of Goo Gone, and I was very sad. Because I am still trying to remove the permanent glue from my $50 blazer. KIDDING.
I ended up spending $54 on a beautiful new set of dinner plates, dessert plates, and mugs - things I would never expect to like at Walmart, where circus peanuts and clowns abound. But I just couldn't resist, because they are the exact color I have been looking for and appear to be nicer than the plates I'd been eyeing at Crate & Barrel (emphasis on "appear" - I am a highly suspicious Walmart shopper). It should be noted that they are breakable dishes, and this became glaringly apparent when one of them slipped out of my hand in the store and not only fell down, it first went up. And then went down. Which only increases the velocity of the impact of said plate on the floor, resulting in many more pieces than one would imagine a single plate could create. VERY. EMBARRASSING. Jason: "Wow, Mommy! That was really loud! And look how it shabbered!" He thought it was cool! Awesome, even! And he got to use the word "shabbered" for the first time in a sentence! Oh, to be five.
And that's when I became The Bitch From Hell. I mean, I didn't get angry about breaking the plate. I was truly embarrassed and wanted to crawl into a hole. But I have absolutely nothing else to blame my bitchiness on, so there you go.
We approach the checkout area, and I see long lines. The only thing I hate more than shopping at Walmart is spending extra time in Walmart because of the LONG freaking LINES. But then I saw a lovely cashier, smiling and shrugging in my general direction, because no one notices that her line is empty. I smile back at the lovely cashier and move over to her line. We continue smiling at each other (lovingly), and she even said a few words to Jason with a (lovely) smile. And then she announced the total of my order. Normally, this would be the part that pisses me off and sets off heart palpitations and profuse sweating. But no. I wasn't upset with the total. I was upset when I looked at the credit card swiper and saw some sort of greeting on the screen in a Foreign Language I Don't Speak. (To avoid inadvertent Google hits, the language will remain unnamed and heretofore be referred to as FLIDS.) So. I'm a little taken aback because, hey, ever since I was born in the U.S. of A., understanding English and English alone has allowed me to function in this country just fine. And now I'm expected to understand FLIDS in order to pay for my stuff? Why? Because the majority of shoppers at Walmart are presumably of the nationality which speaks FLIDS?
Well. I think, okay. I'll play along. Sort of.
After swiping my card, the signature screen came up. You know, the one where you have to tap "OK" or "Cancel" after signing your name? However, above the signature line are two words in FLIDS instead. So, I sign my name and put the pen down. I look around innocently, humming a little tune. I can feel the cashier looking at me. She finally says, "Did you hit 'okay'?" I say, "It doesn't say 'okay.' It says [word in FLIDS]." She sharply turns the screen I signed her way so she can see it. I notice she has lost her lovely smile. She angrily taps on the word in FLIDS that apparently translates as "OK," flips the screen back toward me, and says, "It's the SAME THING." I say, "Sorry, I don't speak [FLIDS]." She shoots me the nastiest look and turns her back to me.
Then I notice the screen I signed had gone back to the "home" screen and says to "Select a language: English or [FLIDS]." I didn't get to choose a language! So, apparently, the cashier chose FLIDS before I even got there because she was assuming that her next customer would certainly be of the nationality which speaks FLIDS! The nerve! The presumption! She deserved what she got from me!
I walk away with a feeling of self-satisfaction (because I showed her that English is the primary language around here!). And then I get the most sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach. When did I become such a spiteful and rude person? Who am I, anyway?? I'll answer for you: A schmuck.
That incident bothered me for the rest of the day.
And, with much shame and remorse, that's all I have to say. I am off to confession.
(Oh my God! I am not only a two-faced bitch, I am also a LIAR!)
Jason and I took a trip to Walmart to buy some Goo Gone and contact lens solution (because they go so well together). Unfortunately, they were out of Goo Gone, and I was very sad. Because I am still trying to remove the permanent glue from my $50 blazer. KIDDING.
I ended up spending $54 on a beautiful new set of dinner plates, dessert plates, and mugs - things I would never expect to like at Walmart, where circus peanuts and clowns abound. But I just couldn't resist, because they are the exact color I have been looking for and appear to be nicer than the plates I'd been eyeing at Crate & Barrel (emphasis on "appear" - I am a highly suspicious Walmart shopper). It should be noted that they are breakable dishes, and this became glaringly apparent when one of them slipped out of my hand in the store and not only fell down, it first went up. And then went down. Which only increases the velocity of the impact of said plate on the floor, resulting in many more pieces than one would imagine a single plate could create. VERY. EMBARRASSING. Jason: "Wow, Mommy! That was really loud! And look how it shabbered!" He thought it was cool! Awesome, even! And he got to use the word "shabbered" for the first time in a sentence! Oh, to be five.
And that's when I became The Bitch From Hell. I mean, I didn't get angry about breaking the plate. I was truly embarrassed and wanted to crawl into a hole. But I have absolutely nothing else to blame my bitchiness on, so there you go.
We approach the checkout area, and I see long lines. The only thing I hate more than shopping at Walmart is spending extra time in Walmart because of the LONG freaking LINES. But then I saw a lovely cashier, smiling and shrugging in my general direction, because no one notices that her line is empty. I smile back at the lovely cashier and move over to her line. We continue smiling at each other (lovingly), and she even said a few words to Jason with a (lovely) smile. And then she announced the total of my order. Normally, this would be the part that pisses me off and sets off heart palpitations and profuse sweating. But no. I wasn't upset with the total. I was upset when I looked at the credit card swiper and saw some sort of greeting on the screen in a Foreign Language I Don't Speak. (To avoid inadvertent Google hits, the language will remain unnamed and heretofore be referred to as FLIDS.) So. I'm a little taken aback because, hey, ever since I was born in the U.S. of A., understanding English and English alone has allowed me to function in this country just fine. And now I'm expected to understand FLIDS in order to pay for my stuff? Why? Because the majority of shoppers at Walmart are presumably of the nationality which speaks FLIDS?
Well. I think, okay. I'll play along. Sort of.
After swiping my card, the signature screen came up. You know, the one where you have to tap "OK" or "Cancel" after signing your name? However, above the signature line are two words in FLIDS instead. So, I sign my name and put the pen down. I look around innocently, humming a little tune. I can feel the cashier looking at me. She finally says, "Did you hit 'okay'?" I say, "It doesn't say 'okay.' It says [word in FLIDS]." She sharply turns the screen I signed her way so she can see it. I notice she has lost her lovely smile. She angrily taps on the word in FLIDS that apparently translates as "OK," flips the screen back toward me, and says, "It's the SAME THING." I say, "Sorry, I don't speak [FLIDS]." She shoots me the nastiest look and turns her back to me.
Then I notice the screen I signed had gone back to the "home" screen and says to "Select a language: English or [FLIDS]." I didn't get to choose a language! So, apparently, the cashier chose FLIDS before I even got there because she was assuming that her next customer would certainly be of the nationality which speaks FLIDS! The nerve! The presumption! She deserved what she got from me!
I walk away with a feeling of self-satisfaction (because I showed her that English is the primary language around here!). And then I get the most sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach. When did I become such a spiteful and rude person? Who am I, anyway?? I'll answer for you: A schmuck.
That incident bothered me for the rest of the day.
And, with much shame and remorse, that's all I have to say. I am off to confession.
(Oh my God! I am not only a two-faced bitch, I am also a LIAR!)
posted by Karen Friday, February 09, 2007
3 Comments:
Oh, man. I HATE Walmart. Why do I keep shopping there? I hate it so much. Hate.
I would have been frustrated too.
This reminds me of the time I accidently pressed "Spanish" instead of English. It was my mistake and I was still pissed!
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