A Very Cranky Moment
Just recently, I had a terrible day at Walmart and I came home and ranted about it on Facebook. I had started dancing nightly to at least one song a night for purposes of exercise. As a result, my back was sore, my feet felt like clubs and my legs felt as if I was walking through water dragging the clubs as I went.
However, I didn’t let it stop me from grocery shopping. I walked through the store in spite of my aching muscles and I did not use a motorized cart. After all it defeats my purpose.It was a bit painful with the aching muscles so I tried to make the trip short and sweet.
When I missed an item I asked my son, “Can you please go back to the canned goods and get me a bag of fried onions off the top shelf?”
A few minutes later he comes back empty handed. Without saying anything, I trudged over to the next aisle and got them myself.
He says, “Oh! You said canned good so I went to the soup aisle."
Okay, soups are canned goods.
At the register, I remembered I was going to try some Ranch dressing this time instead of the oil and vinaigrettes because they’ve been burning my stomach lately. So I asked my son, Reese, "Will you go over to the bags of salads and next to them is Marketside Ranch. Grab one please."
He came back with a very befuddled look on his face and again, empty-handed. As quick as I could, since I was so sore, rushed over, grab a bottle and came back.
He said, “Oh! I didn't know you wanted a bottle, I was looking for a bag because you said bagged salad.”
I'm in a lot of pain at this point and most irritated. Very loudly I said to him, "Do they sell Ranch dressing in bags now? You couldn't have deduced a bottle from the information I gave you?”
His defense was, “I'm not trying to be difficult, I was looking for a bag of Ranch! And yes, they do make bags of it now!”
(Where? I've never seen it.)
I'm in too much pain to argue, I just want to get out to the car. I trudge slowly out to the car. Since I have to get in my son's way to grab my purse while he puts the groceries in the back, I just get in the car.
I'm hurting and I figure he'll get the purse. We get all the way home before we realize he left my purse in the top of the cart. He didn't see it, even though he's the one who pushed the cart back into the store!
I was HYSTERICAL! My driver license, my nursing license, my Social Security Card, every one of my credit cards, EVERY - F&*()% - THING - EVERYTHING was in my purse!
I called the house to explain to my husband why we pulled in and then backed out. He doesn’t like to be the bad guy, even while the children were growing up, so everything was my fault. This way they wouldn’t think he was the mean parent.
He says to me on the phone, “It’s YOUR purse, YOU should have kept up with it.”
I told him, “Don’t you dare play the Mr. Nice Guy with me!”
I hung up. I was so livid; I would have gouged his eyes out if he had been standing in front of me at that moment.
Meanwhile, my son drives in two speeds. One is Reese Gordon. He’s a little heavy in the foot at times. He can promote Dr. Pepper, throw a car in the next lane against the curb and make left turns on two wheels. I’ve had to cling to my seatbelt and hold on to the doors during his Reese Gordon days.
His other speed is Grandma Reese. He drives at a leisurely pace and frequently stops for kittens, puppies, and elderly people with walkers. This was his mode going back to Walmart, Grandma Reese.
He says to me, “I swear, I didn't see your purse!”
I stop screaming about losing everything and ask, “Did you get the medicines my purse was with?”
“Yeah, I did get those. I had to pick your purse up to get the bag from underneath.”
I started crying at this admission.
In the midst of my crying and screaming about losing everything, my cell phone rings and it's a man, whom I don't know, and he says to me he found my purse in the cart and told me to meet him at Yokohama's.
When I got there, he explained that he used to work at Walmart and knows firsthand what the managers do. They will take it in the back, go through it, keep what they want, then call the owner of the wallet or purse and not say anything else. When the costumer’s complain they will claim, “This is how we found it.”
God was watching out for me. Yes, I was praying the whole time begging God to let my purse be there and He did. I got my purse back and everything was in it. I was so thankful there was an honest person out there.
As for my family, I'm enrolling my son in The Home Schooled Association of Look N Find You Asshole while my husband is going to end up in Divorce Court for Mr. Nice Guys. On a more positive note, my daughter was accepted in law school yesterday.