Shopping options aren’t abundant in the boring little town where I live. Oh, we have a decent shopping a mere 25-minute drive away, but the fucktards who built that mall were oblivious enough to make it an outdoor mall. In Kansas, where it goes from brrr-freaking-cold in the winter when there’s a foot of snow on the ground to sweltering hot in the summer when the temps hover in the high 90s for days on end, extremes that are only interrupted by a handful of weeks when the weather is actually mild. We call that time “tornado season”.

So if I want one-stop-shopping, I have two options. I can either go to K-Mart, which is so crowded there is no way to navigate one’s cart down the aisles past the behemoth-bottomed women who stare gape-mouthed at the displays of inferior merchandise. Or, I can go to Wal-Mart, and it’s a sad state of affairs when that place is considered “upscale shopping”.

Today, having run out of shampoo over the weekend, I had no choice but to haul ass to Wal-Mart so I could take a shower before I leave to pick my son up from school. I had a few other things I needed to get, too, so I grabbed the list from our fridge. Since shopping at Wal-Mart usually leaves me feeling the need for a shower, I made a point of heading there at lunch time so I could get home and still have time for the first leisurely shower I’ve had in the 17 days my son’s been home over Winter Break.

But I hadn’t counted on the unbelievable slowness of the old person our local Wal-Mart employs to stand at the door and pass out shopping carts to people as they enter the store. She was all of four and a half feet, if that, which made it darned tempting to just grab a damned cart and pretend I didn’t see her. Unfortunately, she had a blue-veined death grip on the rack of carts kept near the door so the only way I could have retrieved one for myself was if I’d knocked her ass down. (Then, of course, I’d be further delayed while management insisted on filing a police report.)

As I stood there waiting, the old biddy didn’t even acknowledge my presence. No, she was too busy chatting with three other old biddies with whom she’s apparently quite well-acquainted, or so I surmised from their free exchange of details about the various parts of their bodies which began aching yesterday when a cold front moved in.

I coughed. I cleared my throat. I tapped my foot, studied my fingernails and sighed loudly. That, of course, did nothing since the woman is far too old to actually be able to hear. Apparently her eyesight is just as equally bad because she kept right on ignoring me.

Another woman got in line behind me. She, too, was apparently a bit put off that we couldn’t simply grab carts and rush through our shopping. Then a man wearing mechanic’s overalls joined us. Soon, three other people were also waiting — all just as impatient, and all being equally ignored.

“You realize we outnumber them,” I finally said, making no effort to keep my voice quiet. “I’ll get the Greeter lady. Who’ll take down the other three?” And, of course, the crowd of equally impatient people standing there with me all chuckled. Finally, the old biddy huffed and tugged at her little blue Wal-Mart vest before shooting me a rheumy-eyed glance which she no doubt intended to be a drop-dead stare. Then, nodding goodbye to her friends, she began passing out the carts and taking great pains to make sure that I was the last to get one.

“Some people are so rude,” she said as I reached for the cart.

I swear to God, I’d have run the old biddy over and put her out of my misery if I wasn’t worried about criminal charges and medical bills. Instead, I opted for the second-best thing: I whipped out my cell phone and called the store’s office to tell them what had just happened. I was midway through my explanation when I decided to grab my cart and get my shopping done at the same time, which meant I left the old biddy standing there wondering what management was going to do about her. Meanwhile, the influx of shoppers needing carts continued.

Man, I had no idea an old woman could move that fast!

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