Hey-o! Look who forgot she’s a blogger last week…
I woke up this morning completely exhausted from the holiday weekend and made plans to be out of the shop by noon so I could enjoy a leisurely afternoon with my ratty sweatpants and a borrowed DVD set of the first season of Shameless.
I threw on my favorite jeans and an ambitious pair of never-worn-but-very-loved shoes, and made my way to work. My staff knew I was hightailing it out of there early as soon as they spotted my feet. Anything over a 2″ heel means I’m not sticking around long.
I decided the morning would go faster if I ran all the deliveries, so I took the first load to one side of the county and then then the second to the other. My last trip wrapped up dangerously close to the Sam’s Club. I’ve been itching to reinstate my membership, and if I run out of toilet paper again I’m going to scream, and one thing led to another… $45 and a very awkward photo later, I was a card-carrying insider to all things bulk.
I walked all over that giant box store, oblivious to any feet discomfort, because it’s difficult to concentrate on anything when you’re surrounded by 10-lb tubs of mayonnaise.
After an hour of aimless wandering, I filled my cart with God-knows-what (essentials, duh) and headed to the checkout. I found a reasonably-populated line and carefully unloaded my treasures onto the belt: 50-roll packs of paper towels and toilet paper, cases of Pellegrino and Luna protein bars, 8-packs of Clorox wipes, enough hand soap to keep us sanitized through winter, etc. Oh, and an $8 paperback copy of The Fault in Our Stars, which I’ve been dying to read.
My total? $189. A steal, really!
I reached into my bright yellow crossbody, extracted my credit card, prepared to swipe… and then the cashier sweetly dropped a bomb. “Oh, I’m sorry, we don’t take Visa charge, unless it’s a debit.” She went on to explain the types of payment they do accept, none of which I had immediately available. I always carry a checkbook! Except today.
I was flummoxed. And screwed; I only had two [now useless] Visa credit cards and a $20 bill on my person. All I wanted was to get my gigantic paper products and snacks off the belt and into my car.
Suddenly my feet hurt.
As people piled up behind me in line and I tried to wrap my brain around the [increasingly embarrassing] situation, I became that annoying customer who mumbles useless statements ad nauseam:
“You don’t take Visa charge? Who doesn’t take Visa charge? I had no idea you didn’t take Visa charge.” Repeat.
After exhausting every option I could think of — “Do you take Paypal?” Of course they don’t; this isn’t the Internet, Keira — the seriously kind and patient cashier put everything back in my cart and sent me to customer service to apply for a Sam’s Club credit card.
I considered it… I really wanted those paper towels, dammit! Then I came to my senses. Another credit card is the last thing I need. Defeated and dejected, I pushed my full cart to the side and made my way to the exit.
But wait! I wasn’t leaving empty-handed. I went back to my abandoned cart, dug out the paperback, and used the cash I had on hand to make it mine.
So I kind of spent over $50 and an hour on The Fault in Our Stars?
It better be good, John Green.
Sam’s, I’ll be back for you; and next time I’ll be ready.