Monday, January 5, 2009

frustrations

Arg... today sucked.

Work was mostly ok, except that it was slow [didn't have a lot to do most of the day - which makes the time go by slower] and I was SUPER tired. There were a few times it was really hard to stay awake. Although I got enough sleep last night, I had stayed up too late both Friday and Saturday nights, so tonight will be catch-up if I can make it to bed in time [I guess that depends on how long I take to rant about my stuff here...]

So when I get out of work and start my car up my 'tire pressure indicator' light comes on. I bust out my trusty cigarette lighter powered air compressor and get to work on the tires. When I get around to the front passenger side I find that while it's not flat, it IS completely bald. No tread left. Not showing cord yet, but no tread left [which is not great since it's cold and rainy here right now.] This annoys me because that tire has no more than 23,000 miles on it since that's all the car has. It's also possible that was one of the tires that had to be replaced in my accident repairs, in which case it didn't even last 13,000 miles, because my accident was right around 10K. So I drive to Sam's to see about getting a new tire. The guy there didn't seem to have his crap together and I wasn't totally sold, so I went on to NTB. The guy there was knowledgeable and I ended up getting two tires because the other front one [driver's side] really didn't have much tread left either. Just the other day when hanging out with my friends Danny and Craig they related their experience with having to get new tires for their Acura. Apparently car and tire companies have conspired together to create a new breed of tire and force them on people who like nice cars. They're called V-rated tires - they cost more, and wear out faster because they are "softer." But to switch to a lower rating of tire you would have to replace all 4 at the same time. So anyway, like my Acura friends, I'm stuck with V-rated tire choices. They get the old tires off and look at the wear on them and tell me my alignment may need adjustment. So they put it on their fancy computer that shows the alignment, and of course, the front end is way off - so there's another $80 on top of the $275 for the tires. I walk out of there having dropped around $360 or so and by this time it's about 6pm and I'm already hungry. [I had left work just before 4:30pm.] But I was determined to get to the gym and at least do something there, and it was just around the corner from the tire place.

So I get there and can't decide what I want to do, but settle on just swimming laps. Well, a few weeks back I was doing some weight stuff and my right shoulder started hurting. Since then whenever I've done anything with weights my shoulder starts to hurt again, so whenever it does I avoid activities that would stress it until the hurt goes away. It had been long enough I didn't figure there would be any problem. Wrong. It start hurting about 10 minutes into my swimming. I did another 5 minutes just doing a one-armed side-stroke [not using my right arm for that one] and then quit. By the time I got dressed and out of the gym it was after 7pm and I was starving. I knew I had salad at home, so I could eat that, but I didn't have any protein [meat] so I would have to stop at the store for that. Foolishly, I chose Walmart.

Now... I think all decent people hate Walmart, for varying reasons, but everyone still goes there because it's cheap. My reason for hating it is usually the other "patrons" one encounters there as well as the cashiers. Today was an especially bad example. I get my three things - a bunch of bananas, a single steak packet, and a little bag of baby carrots and go to the "express lane." I always avoid the self-check option when I have fruit to be weighed [bananas.] There are only 2 'speed' lanes open, and as I walk up one of them has the dreaded "flashing light" which translates into 'I've got a high-maintenance customer and this is going to take a while' so I go to the other lane. There is a woman with her boy there and they don't seem to have much stuff. What I didn't realize at first glance was that this woman had apparently seen more that she wanted than her bank account could handle, so the transaction they were performing when I first came up was actually reversing the first iteration of her transaction. Then they had to ring up the stuff she could afford [while her boy, in the meantime, tried to balance the reject stuff she couldn't pay for on top of a display next to the cashier stand that was taller than he was, so it fell down all over the place.] Anyway, the cashier finishes the 2nd ring up and the lady takes an inordinate amount of time to run her card through the machine [honestly, how hard is it? apparently very, watching this chick.] So then I think they're done, and now it will be my turn. Wrong. The cashier turns on the flashing light and after looking for a manager for a minute or two, walks off to get one. [The chick has already wandered toward the manager stand] and at that point I'm like... [there are no words - only rage feelings]

So I go in search of another line. I find another line with only one person who has but a few items and I think I've struck gold. As I stand there waiting behind this person, I realize that the cashier is not wearing anything that would indicate he is a Walmart employee. He is also quietly, but still very audibly, singing to himself - with a very mumbley African accent - songs that seemed to be something about Jesus. The person in front of me finishes their transaction and leaves, and it is my turn. As he scans my items and rings me up, he does not even pause once in his Jesus singing. No conversation or anything - he's COMPLETELY in his own little praise-Jesus world. I run my card in the little thing and it says "ask cashier to press credit key" which I try to do, but can't manage to get out any real words because I'm so overcome by the complete and utter bat-shit-crazy that is coming from across the counter. I get my items and walk away and feel a little bit sorry for the poor people in line behind me who must also then deal with that dangerously insane individual. I thought about alerting the management to the fact that they were employing[?] someone who belonged in a padded room, but then I remembered it was Walmart...

And of course, when I get home and go in my kitchen I remember that I am out of milk...

On the plus side, however, I built an excellent fire in my fireplace which only took one light and it was raging in no time. So I think I'll sit there and bask, while listening to my iTunes on shuffle for a little bit before I head to bed...

I'll just have oatmeal [made with water] in the morning and hopefully remember to stop and get milk before I get home tomorrow...

2 comments:

Lana said...

Ahhh...reading your story gives me an eerie feeling of familiarity. We must be cut from the same cloth. :) Why does so much rage fill me up when encountering those individuals that just require pity? Why do all WalMart cashiers work in exactly the same way all over the country?? My only consolation to you is to be grateful that the whole time you were starving and in the lines with such incompetence that you didn't have two fighty, starving, display grabbing children with you. Sigh. I envy the end of your night where you made dinner for one and relaxed by the fire. :) Loves!

LadyCarma said...

I am sorry for your loss, bro... to quote a movie! But I mean, I really am sorry you had a rough day. It could have been worse, right? If you had gone to Discount Tire, they would have sold you two new tires and sent you somewhere else to get the alignment. And I want to know, what are the odds what one will pick the checkout line that has the problems? I seem to be doing that lately myself, and it isn't just at Walmart. This morning at Kroger the three people in the only active checkout line had tons of food in their carts and the checkout clerk was slower than freezing tar! I finally went to the self check out line. BIG MISTAKe! Nearly every item had to have the assistance of the cashier, and he was not born and raised here and kept calling me "MISS" which I hate, and telling me I hadn't scanned the item right. I was about ready to scan him, right into the next aisle!