Wal-Jack

Wal-Jack is an amusing place.

More amusing at night, apparently, or early morning (I am guessing), when it is not so crowded.

At certain times of the day, I cannot even bear the thought of thinking about entering our SuperCenter. Tonight, though, I got a sudden burst of energy and thought, why not go now; otherwise, I am going to be faced with getting up early and going then.

NOT something you want to go to bed thinking about, you know?

; )

I walk in the west door, as I always do, and immediately the greeter — who is not actually greeting anyone and, in fact, does not even have a cart pulled out, ready to go, for me! — tells me that door will be locked in 15 minutes. And I am thinking, what the fuck to I care if this door is locked — as long as I am not actually locked inside the damn store??!

I mean, it is 61 degrees outside. Possibly the most beautiful weather we have had all year, these past few days/nights.

So I do my shopping (mostly cookout supplies) and then I do my usual self-checkout and then I walk toward the west door thinking maybe, just maybe, I have taken less than 15 minutes ... but no, the door is locked, a woman tells me, as she hurriedly pushes her cart — which is carrying groceries and a little girl — toward the east door. And as she does so, she is lamenting the fact that the west door is locked (as I am sure the non-greeting greeter told her when she entered) with her car parked right outside, and now she is not going to make it to the Wal-Jack gas station before it closes.

Me? I could not care less, even though, at the mention of the gas station, I am reminded that I was thinking of filling the tank, myself, just in case I decide to depart town early tomorrow a.m. to go see my sister. Still, I am in no particular hurry, walking to my car, pushing my neatly packed cart, enjoying the night air, when I see that same woman, hurriedly attempting to lift her daughter out of the cart ... and the woman is yelling at the girl, trying to get her out of the cart and into the car, and suddenly the little girl is crying, and I am thinking: Is it really worth all this drama to save 5 cents per gallon on your gasoline? Is it worth injuring your daughter?

Apparently, though, the woman and I both managed to maneuver our vehicles over to the gas pumps in plenty of time.

I fill the tank, and the total comes to exactly $21.00. I LOVE when that happens!

: )