Rudeness

This will not shock you. I despise rudeness. I think it should be the eighth deadly sin. Rude children make me understand corporal punishment. (I am kidding!) Rude adults, especially those in customer service, make me crazy.

On Christmas Eve, I accompanied my mother to WalMart. Not my favorite store but she legitimately needed a few things and I legitimately needed to relieve being stir crazy.

I have worked retail. I did it in high school and college. I did it when we actually had to do math and count change. I did it when we were expected to know the merchandise and where to find it. I did it when our performance reviews were a daily reminder because managers paid attention to customer service.

At WalMart, I experienced three incidents of rudeness:

1. We were looking for a specific cleaning product while wandering through the housewares section. I asked an employee, "Excuse me, may I ask you a question?" She responded, "I don't work in this department." I said, "That is not my question." I proceeded to ask my question and she answered it. Why couldn't she have done that in the first place?

2. One of the items we picked up was stocked in two areas on the same aisle. The price difference for the same item was about $6. I pointed this out to my mother so we could pay attention at check out. I have a mean memory and I knew the rough cost of every item we were buying. Of course, two of them rang up at the higher price. The cashier was rude as she let us know she would have to wait for a price check. Fine with me. When the equally-rude, yet higher-on-the-totem-pole person arrived, I offered to go with her to show her exactly where I found these items. She proceeded to weave and run through the store with the cart as her taser. To borrow a line from Christmas Vacation, "Let's burn some dust. Eat my rubber." We purchased our items at the price listed on the shelf. Saved close to $20 versus what rang up on the register. I was persistent but I was not rude.

3. In the parking lot, we unloaded and I took the basket to the cart corral. On the other side was a woman who could've walked three feet to secure the cart from damaging cars. Instead, she left it rolling toward another car as she backed away. I grabbed it and put it away. If this were football, I would throw my little yellow flag and scream, "Unnecessary Rudeness!"

Today we went to run some other errands. We experienced rude clerks -- the kind who stand and converse with each other and act like you are not standing right there. We witnessed rude fellow shoppers. I may not venture out again for a while.

Taking Inventory

I used to work in retail. I'm used to taking inventory.

We're still digging out. We've yet to tackle the basement but the dungeon has been restored to a lovely guest room. It's bright and airy. It's private.

I am picking up my niece at the airport in a few hours. (Technically, she's a second cousin of the husband's but since her mother is an honorary sister, I like to think of her as my niece.) I want her to be comfortable so I'm doing the usual, last minute prep stuff. I hope she doesn't mind the handicap bars all over the bathroom. At least in the shower, they give you something to hang onto while shaving your legs. There's still a handicap toilet in the water closet. (They're taller than the norm.)

The back yard is lush and green. I was going to clean off the patio until it started raining. As I looked around, I realized how many things the husband has purchased for the comfort of the oldies. The gigantic heater, cushions, etc.

Some purchases were good. The bed we purchased is great. And, the guest room is much cozier with the fireplace.

Others were ridiculous. I ventured downstairs to find a file and I was faced with wheelchairs and every conceivable walker invented. Some are easily portable. Others are more convoluted but they have a seat. We have two temporary closets completely filled. We have more luggage than any world traveler could ever use. We have lots of canes.

I've thought about having a garage sale, although my neighborhood frowns on that. Instead of calling it a garage sale, I might call it an oldies sale.

Break Time

I'm a worker. I love it. I was selling painted rocks as a child, moved into babysitting and by the time I was 15-years old, I was working as many hours as they would give me -- first in the jewelry stand and then in the drug store. (When I accomplished the pharmacy tech training and got to wear the white coat, I thought I was very cool.)

Eventually, I moved to the corporate world. I accomplished some things and I messed up some things. No time clock was involved. If I decided to take a walk at 2:00 PM, no one noticed or cared.

Everything comes full circle. Now I work from home and you would think my time is my own. Hah! I've reverted to the 15-year old person who works in retail and wants to know, "When is my break?"

You Must've Gone to College

There's a slight chance that we might get a little bit of snow over the weekend. Like a lot of Midwestern women, that triggers something in my mind: Must go to the store and get milk, bread and eggs! (My friend Jim has decided that the entire Midwest eats nothing but french toast in any kind of weather crisis.)

Of course, I truly don't care if we have milk, bread or eggs. But, I bought some. I also bought ingredients for soup and a few other essentials like wine.

As the (very polite) 9-year old boy was ringing up my order, he was puzzled by a couple of the specials. For example, if you buy a carton of XXXX, you get $2 off. I did buy 10 (the quantity in the carton) but I mixed different flavors and made my own carton. This was too much for him so I had to explain how to ring it up. He thanked me and then said, "You must've gone to college."

I said, "I don't think it has anything to do with college but I worked in retail a long, long time."

Then I bagged my own groceries because I have my own system.