{Continued from "My series, part
two"}
"It's just water," I rationalized. "And it was only
half a bottle…."
Clearly, the icy shock that now drenched my nether regions had affected all
sense of sound reason and good taste.
Leaving home with just enough time to get my son and his friend back to
school on time was my first mistake; the second was thinking it was a good
decision to traipse around with my britches soaking wet, that if it didn't
bother me, no one would notice.
(Sometimes I can be the Queen of Self Delusion. It’s the grown-up equivalent of a child
closing his eyes and sing-songing, “I caaan’t see you!”.)
We arrived at the school minutes before the bell rang, and my daughter was
at our pre-arranged meeting spot, my credit card in hand.
“Sorry, Mom…I forgot to give it back yesterday. Oh, and I forgot to give your change back,
too—want it?” She knew I was in a hurry and wouldn’t wait for her to scavenge through her purse to find it, so score one for her impeccable sense of timing. Typically, she doesn’t even carry her purse at school, she squirrels it away in my car, knowing it’s there when she needs something. Score a second point for Murphy—the day I need something out of her purse, is the day she decides to take it with her!
Heading back to Wal Mart, I convinced myself my pants were almost dry; the
truth I denied was my wet jeans now simply equaled my body temperature, and I
couldn’t feel the differential…until I got out of my car to walk indoors.
Walking briskly and deliberately to the door, thoughts swirled—half a bottle is a LOT of water, pants don’t dry when you’re sitting in a
puddle, so this is what chafing feels like, I bet it looks like I wet my
pants but if anyone sees my Dreaded Wet Butt, shame on them for looking!—all
very reasonable and cogent thought when you’re well out of the Pampers stage of
life and not yet at the Depends phase.
I was a Woman on a Mission,
however, and a little humiliation wasn’t going to stop me. With head held high, I continued my Emperor’s
New Clothes charade, and marched to customer service.
Armed with a debit card that needed to be credited and a credit card that
needed to be debited, I presented my receipt while bloviating my dilemma to the
Customer Service Associate.
Her response, Amanda’s response, left my jaw dragging the floor and restored my faith in humanity:
She
said—cheerfully—“Sure! We can do that!”. That wasn't the response I anticipated.
This was no simple task; my receipt had 67 items sold on it. If I had a buggy of groceries with me, she
could have simply scanned their return, then re-scanned their purchase on the
other card. Instead, item by item, she
had to key in the UPC code, then answer two questions for it. For 67 items.
Let’s do the math:
67 items x 12 UPC digits + 2 questions = 938 numbers keyed in
That was for the return; for the re-purchase, it was a bit quicker–
67 items x 12 UPC digits + 1 question (I think) = 871 numbers keyed in
Total: 1809 numbers keyed in.
Remarkably, she only made one mistake, and it took her just seconds to
locate and correct. I asked her if I
could nominate her for Employee of the Year and she just shrugged, smiled and
said they don’t do that. The whole process had taken just short of AN HOUR and
she was kind throughout the entire transaction.
Can you imagine the line that grew behind me during transaction? Can you imagine how much they HATED ME? Thank goodness 20 minutes in, another cashier
began processing returns, and she CLEARLY indicated to Amanda how glad she was not to have gotten me (mutual
feeling). I think nine others were helped
in the time it took to complete my return.
Of course, if you stand in the Wal Mart customer service area long enough,
you’re going to see some pretty entertaining things; only because this story is
SO LONG already will I spare you the details of The Redneck Woman, a
badly-concealed bruise on her cheek, her VERY LOUD AND PROFANE threats for her
“companion” to get the ef away from her, her crossing my personal space bubble
(close enough for me to get second-hand cancer from her nicotine-clouded
breath) to ask me “WAS THEY FIXIN’ ONE OF THEIR MISTAKES OR WAS YOU RETURNIN’
THAT MUCH STUFF?” and I was scared she might pull out a can of whoop-A$$ if I
told her the truth, cause let me tell you this, I’m pretty sure I saw the
outline of a comb switchblade in her back pocket.
Anyways…………….
By the time all was said and done, I had given up on my agenda and resigned
myself to hamster-spinning for the rest of the day.
But at least by then, my pants were dry.
I thoroughly enjoyed your Series – isn’t that horrible of me? To enjoy someone else’s pain and embarrassment? But, it was good fun and only water this time.
I’ll tell you (I am NOT blogging about it) – but before I took Skunky to the vet (sniff sniff) he peed on my pants without me realizing it. I walked around half the day smelling cat pee and couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. DUH – my pants.
Very, very funny! Still chuckling…
OMG! If I was behind you in that line it would have been very ugly…I admire your courage
It’s so refreshing to find someone with a sense of humor who can laugh at themselves …and even write about it so the whole world knows.
Here’s mine: I had my eye on a cool long jean skirt that actually had lace sown into the fabric. Well, I bought it and the first time I wore it was to church. I stood and I sat several times during the service and suddenly I felt a light touch on my shoulder. A young woman whispered to me that my skirt had torn one of the times I stood up and she thought I would want to know. To my horror, the seam had ripped and part of my rear could be seen! I quickly held my skirt together and remained seated until I could dash out of there.
Now, every time I leave for church my husband does a spot check to be sure all of my seams are intact!
I’ve loved this series. Hilarious. I appreciate your willingness to share your misfortunes with the world. lol.
My most embarrassing moment would have to be the time I had to be CUT OUT OF A PUBLIC BATHROOM!!!!! Oh yes, I got locked in, sealed shut and stuck in there for hours. The the manager who was sent through the ceiling to get me out ALSO got stuck in because his screwdriver broke. We were both stuck together for over an hour before we could rig the diaper changing table to help hoist him up.
No joke.
When I finally escaped there were a crowd of people clapping and congratulating.
Mortifying.
Glad you weren’t in line in front of me the day I knocked a gallon of milk off the check out counter and it exploded over an area the size of a football field…and everyone who was within a one-mile radius.
You are an amazing writer, very funny! I’m glad I found your blog and could read your stories!
gotta love life, huh? too funny, great story-telling and brought a smile to my face (which at night is hard to do)
What a great finale to your saga!
And I totally want to hear more about Redneck Woman. She must be up visiting y’all’s neck of the woods, cuz she usually hangs out at MY Walmart.
NO, she’s not me!
Goodness! That’s quite the story. Maybe you ought to carry a change of clothes in the car from now on. At least for the lower half. LOL!! 😀
Karmyn, you need to start an anon. blog to record the stories you WON’T tell; an extended version of Post Secret!
Elisa, me, too (NOW, not then!).
BeeDancer, that Redneck Woman behind me? (she was actually two people behind me) She was close to dragging another cashier to come help…I’m not kidding.
Oh, Debbie…that’s awful! The only thing that would make it better is for you to have pictures of it ;). 😀 j/k
Kristen, oh, dear. I can think of ways it could’ve been even worse (if you had had a stomach virus…!), but that’s pretty bad. I so would’ve been on the other side applauding, though…ready to take your picture with my cell phone so you could blog it ;).
Swampy, I can’t imagine what the response was to that. I think I would’ve even skipped blogging about it!
Ann, well, now…THANK YOU! I’m glad you found my blog, too! Shop again, shop often!
Nekkid Lizard Lady, and THAT put a smile on MY face! 🙂
Steph, interestingly, they didn’t break the mold when Redneck Woman was created; I think there’s at least one at every bargain store….
Dianne, sadly, these aren’t the only occasions I could’ve used one. Yours is not a bad idea…:)
thank you! Thank you! Thank you! You’re a real gem for sharing this story! I have to say my eyes were tearing up as I read- your HILARIOUS description of the red neck woman!! Glad there were not punches thrown!!
Aww I’m sorry you had to deal with this series of events, but it truley does make great blog stories! I’m pretty sure I would’ve had to buy another pair of something or a skirt to throw over my jeans haha. I’ve seen too many of those redneck women around these parts!
Wow! Just hold your head high and carry on, that’s all you can do.
And then go home and weep.
What a way to make the best of a crappy two days! Very well written, Robin – kudos to you for recognizing (and thank GOD for) nice customer service personnel. Somehow finding a good one is the equivalent to restoring faith in humanity.
Would it be bragging for me to say: I was not long ago in the produce section of the W, the last section of my visit. I felt something tickling my ankle. It was a pair of panties. I reached down, pulled them out of my pant leg and tucked them into my front pocket without missing a beat. I dared someone to accuse me of stealing a worn pair of pan-tays.
That will show me for just grabbing the pair of jeans I wore the day before off the floor without checking for underpants. My mom was mortified when it happened to her,but with a sock. In your face, mom, I win this one!
I’m not sure what’s made me laugh hardest – your story or the comments on other people’s misfortunes! Thanks for the laugh!
– Amanda
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…
That’s the only phrase that comes to mind as I visualize you standing there and seeing, in lockstep, the best that humanity has to offer, cheek-by-jowl with the worst.
Isn’t human nature an incredibly varied thing?
No one describes life like you do. What a gift.