Attack of the Wal-Martians

Ahhh… Wal-Mart. The store we all love and hate. Besides all the controversy, it really is a company you can’t avoid. The prices are wickedly cheap and the selection vast. With the OP line now available there, I hardly ever have a need to veer from the $3 clothing racks.

But I digress from my love affair with Wally World to discuss the part I hate the most. It has nothing to do with the prices, selection, or people that work there. It has to do with those who shop there. I lovingly refer to these people as “Wal-Martians”. This term says everything it needs to; like, what planet are you weird people from?! I don’t see them any place BUT Wal-Mart and they seem to flock by the hundreds.

Today was a typical shopping day for me. My daughter is leaving for camp so naturally, I took out a small loan to purchase all of her necessary items. I mean, how has she lived this long without facial wipes, hairspray in a mini-can, or an extra flashlight? I must have been a terrible mom up to today.

I got the things she needed off the list – four items to be exact. These were just the items my husband forgot on the first three shopping trips. After collecting my loot, I go to the checkout area and scan the six out of fifty open check stands and take my chances on the 20 items or less isle. I scan the Wal-Martians in front of me and note that they have very little items so this should go smoothly. I smugly do the mental ‘BOO-YA!’ to the other Wal-Martians that chose the longer lines. Idiots.

It isn’t until I have read (cover to cover) the latest In-Touch, People, and Cooking with Paula Deen that I realize I haven’t even moved up in line. I look ahead of me and realize that the people at the front of the line have four separate ‘20 items or less’ transactions (cheaters!) and don’t have enough money for their final bill. To my utter dismay they are counting out change to the cashier (Coin Star anyone?) and the cashier is ‘in-training’! Of course she is training though; it wouldn’t be my Wal-Mart experience without the cashier being trained!

It is then that the ultimate horror has descended on me and the other patrons… The check stand light has been flicked indicating that managerial help is needed. Dang it! I mentally retract my BOO-YA and look longingly at the Wal-Martians happily plugging along through their lines.

After another fifteen minutes and the latest Vogue magazine thoroughly read; the lady in front of me gets her turn. She then unleashes pent up fury on the cashier. Missing front teeth otherwise gnashing, she demands a pack of Pall Malls, and pays for her magazine (Earth to Wal-Martian, waste of money to buy the mag when you could have easily read it by now!). When it’s finally my turn, they change out employees. *HEAVY SIGH OF DEFEAT*

After my escapade, I trudge out to my car relief pulsing for my veins. It isn’t until I am halfway home that harsh realization hits me.


I forgot Toilet Paper.