Yesterday I had to make a quick trip to BJ’s (where they unfortunately do not deal in their namesake) for a metric assload of kitty litter and fiber. What? I like to stay regular.
Shopping was no big chore, but because I was buying four 40 pound buckets of kitty litter, I opted for the flatbed trolley as opposed to the cart. That way my measly little arms wouldn’t have to haul the buckets up and over the edge of the basket of the cart. The problem is the flatbed suddenly doesn’t steer as well with 160 pounds of shitgrit on it. But since I was shopping at dinner time the crowds were thin and I made it to the registers without much of a problem.
I checked myself out (because who has time for an inept teenager to morosely sob their way through scanning every item because they’ve suddenly realized that this is the best their lives will ever be?) and made my way to the exit.
If you’re unfamiliar with stores like BJ’s, or Costco, or Sam’s Club this next part is important, so pay attention. Yes, you, with one hand down your pants and the other hand on the keyboard who found this page by searching for “hillary clinton buttplug in ann coulter’s ass threeway mitt romney”, you need to pay attention.
At these stores they tell you, over and over again, ad nauseum, to keep your receipt out so that an employee standing at the exit can verify that the items on your receipt match the items in your cart. See, most of the stuff in the store is too big to fit in a reasonably sized bag, and the checkout lanes are enormously wide, so the best way to stop shoplifting is to post a guard at the exit. It seems to work pretty well as people file past with receipt in hand, ready to have their items checked by the employee before moving on. I was not so lucky as to be in such a situation.
Somewhere in the 20 feet between the registers and the door some ancient whore and her screaming, slackjawed brood has lost the receipt from the register. She searched every pocket over and over and over, and the line behind me grew longer and longer. It’s unprecedented to have a line as long as the one I was in, and it was only 5 deep. The line behind me, however, was becoming so long that people who were checking out were unable to move forward because the line was now blocking them. And because they were unable to move forward, other customers were unable to check out. This woman had essentially buttfucked hundreds of people because she was so cranially lodged in her own anus. Finally she found her receipt and the line started moving again, only to be stopped again just outside the exit to the store.
Apparently unfamiliar with the many similar examples in life, such as the elevator, bus, train, car, plane, bathroom, club, bar, etc., idiot after idiot piled themselves into the entrance vestibule of the store before we had a chance to exit. Apparently in such a hurry that they couldn’t wait for anyone to leave before they entered, they now had to wait for everyone to leave before they entered. But no one could leave! The dumbfucks had circled their trolleys in such an idiotic manner that they blocked every possible egress. I stood and stared, unable to move, and tongue tied by the rapidly compiling idiocy, as douchebag after douchebag further blocked the exit. It was a Mexican standoff of epic proportions, and unfortunately, I didn’t have a gun.
With visions in my head of William Tecumseh Sherman ravaging a flaming swath through the heart of the south I announced to no one in particular, “You need to back up so we can get out. THEN you can come in.” They all looked shocked at the idea that THEY could possibly be the problem. They started at one another but nobody budged. I looked around and realized that the situation inside the store had once again backed up beyond the registers, and more people were piling up outside the store.
Suddenly the entire mob behind me shouted at once in a deafening baritone, “Everybody MOVE!” I whipped around to see how the crowd could have organized itself so quickly and found myself staring at a foot-wide belt buckle that was holding up the sail-sized pants of the walking mountain behind me. I craned my neck skyward to get a better look at the giant behind me, and with twinkling brown eyes he looked down at me quickly from the troposphere before addressing the tightly packed throng of idiots, “Get out of the way!”
They stared sheepishly at each other for a moment, dumbfounded into inaction.
“NOW!”
The Blue Angles wish they could fly with such coordination and precision as those idiots blocking the exit did. Like a dam bursting, we were finally able to leave the store after a completely unnecessary 20 minute wait. I wanted to shake the gargantuan mitt of the gentleman who cleared our path, but in two quick strides he was in West Virginia, and one stride after that I couldn’t see him anymore. I wish I could take him everywhere, because every day I live in Glen Burnie my support for eugenics grows stronger.
Wow! My colleague sat next to this guy on a trip to Taiwan. Our company flies us to Asia business class and I can barely see the seat in front of me, much less reach the seatback, even with my legs.
The guy I went with had the window seat. Your friend had the aisle seat. When he reclined to sleep, he couldn’t even straighten out his legs. At one point, my colleague climbed over him to get out. He was kind of afraid of waking him but just as my dog didsn’t really notice the fleas and bugs that traversed her body when she slept, neither did this guy.
We’ve made this trip a number of times and usually send the driver off to get the car while we wait for baggage. They always worry that we won’t be ready in time but I think they park their cars in Shanghai and have to swim across the strait to retrieve them. Anyway, 2-1/2 hours later, we get to the hotel and Paul-Freakin’-Bunyan is standing on the steps just off the lobby, surveying the area. Probably looking for some indiginous cab driver to eat.
I said, “Look! There’s your boyfriend.” My colleague says, “Holy shit! How’d he beat us here?” I replied, “He walked, of course.”
You and Paul should have stormed them like Leroy.
Andre the Giant resurrected to perform a Princess Bride reprisal? Sweeeeet.
Blah blah blah, where’s the coulter-clinton-romney vid? C’mon man, before my coworkers notice what I’m doing!
THat must be one huge ass cat. I’m back from China bee-tch.
i love this story, and that giant man should come carry me past all the traffic to work each day.
Well, at least you saved $0.39. That’s what counts.
Hey ACW, if you ever get this guy in your personal employ do you think I could borrow him once and a while. Like if you’re ever to sick to go out, or in prison or something? And if not, can I just tag along with you when you go out. Because seiously, the number of idiots I encounter when I leave the house seems to be rising while my patience for such idiocy has reached an all time low.
RADIOHEAD! Paranoid Android!
And–there are several reasons why I simply cannot even set foot in the town of Glen Burnout. 1. I lived there with my Ex husband and it harbors bad memories. 2. what you just described.
Slender Reed is right. The Leroy approach always works.
That, or frantically start tearing at your shirt, screaming “Spiders! Spiders!” People will move.
Thanks, Bliss. And I must give you credit for introducing me to the clip. :-)
I hate the receipt thing. You can get your little highlighter out of my face, OK?
That was me, by the way. Someone came by my cube and I panicked and closed out.
That big guy sounds like he’s got a simliar power to the big black guy in “Animal House” who says “Mind if we dance wit chor dates?”
Maybe Andre the Giant was a fire marshal
Lori rocks with the Radiohead reference!
I’m trying to imagine this shopping cart gridlock in my head, but I find myself having difficulties. By no fault of your own, mind you, your imagery was quite vivid…it’s just not something you see every day.
I enjoy your writing. Hail to fellow Glen Burnouts
-west
I just saw something on digg that a person refused to show their receipt to the guard at the door and they couldn’t do anything about it. As long as they didn’t see you commit a crime, they cannot stop you or hold you inside the store. I don’t think the person was in MD though.
She should have just kept walking, and you may have not been blocked. I don’t think the person was in MD though.
Joe- Yeah, I saw that too. It was in Florida, but that guy was just at a regular store. At BJ’s people have to sign up for a membership and part of the membership application requires that members submit to a receipt check. It makes it a slightly different situation.
“I wanted to shake the gargantuan mitt of the gentleman who cleared our path, but in two quick strides he was in West Virginia, and one stride after that I couldn’t see him anymore.”
I laughed my ass off at that one!
I hates me some crappy ass box store shoppers. I’d be happy not having to come into contact with one single person while I’m shopping in one.