Trapped in K-Mart

Trapped in K-Mart. Okay, not really trapped. More like sentenced. Incarcerated. Imprisoned. Condemned to a weekend at K-mart.

This adventure started the same as many of my adventures, at two-thirty AM, about the time the skunks decide it's time to start partying in my side yard. My wife flipped on the lights and jabbed a sharp stick in my ribs. "Honey, we need to go to K-mart tomorrow to get some things."

I peeked from my hiding spot under the pillows. Okay, she wasn't using a sharp stick, just an elbow. I think. "Okay, now go to sleep."

"It's important."

"Okay. I love you. Good night." I didn't care at that time what I had to agree to. I just wanted to get some sleep. Of course I should be more careful, since that same strategy led me to the unfortunate incident with the circus bear last year -- but that's another story. Anyway, I wasn't thinking too well at half-past the middle of the way-too-early.

"So you'll take me?"

"Sure. Tomorrow. K-mart. Got it. Sleep now."

She talked for another half hour, telling me about the wonderful things she'd found in their advertisement. I tried to make little snoring noises and not go "uh huh" so that she'd figure I'd gone back to sleep.

But she was wise to that trick, so it was well past three before she turned the lights off and let me get to sleep.

She had me wake up bright and early so we'd be the first ones in the doors.

"Do you have a shopping list?" I'd spent too many Saturdays tagging around while my wife browses -- not quite as boring as swimming laps, but a very close second.

"Of course I have a shopping list. I told you all about it last night. See?" She held up the flier with almost every item circled. "You said okay to everything."

"Did I?" I guess I did. Maybe my snoring sounds a little like "Sure, honey, buy everything. We can afford it." I didn't think so. My wife usually says it sounds a little like a chain-saw cutting through bales of piano wire, but maybe I said "uh huh" one too many times in trying to get back to sleep. Oh well, I thought, maybe the nursing home with my poor feeble mother will be willing to take a post-dated check.

So we shopped. Not browsed. Shopped. We filled the shopping basket with everything in the flier. Pokemon trading cards. Batteries. Clips for left-handed air fresheners. Little red rubber do-dads used in gardening that I have no idea what they do. Band-aids. Cat toys.

"Cat toys? We don't have a cat."

"But it's on sale. Look at it. It's usually $14.95, but now it's on sale for $11.95"

"But that's $11.95 for something we'll never use."

"I can send it to my friend Vivian. She has a cat."

"She doesn't have a K-mart?"

"Look. Here I am, trying to save you three dollars and you're acting like I'm choosing the wrong stuff. If you're so smart, why don't you finish getting all of this on your own?"

"But the point isn't that you can't choose right, it's just -- "

"It's just that you haven't spent hour after hour choosing just the right things to get. But I have. So if you can't be helpful, just be quiet."

So I was quiet. Blame my mother who taught me to always yield to the will of females. Resistance is futile. Anyway, I thought at the time, it was just three dollars.

So I kept my mouth shut through the housewares, through the toys, through the school supplies and clothing and electronics sections. I oooohhed and aaaaahhhhed when I needed to and agreed that the little mini-CD ear rings were the cutest little things.

I pushed first one, then two overflowing baskets through the aisles. Not once did I start making noises like a pack mule.

After four hours, we took a break in their little cafe, feasting on sub sandwiches made back during the Truman administration.

Two more hours and we were ready to check out. My cart looked like an overloaded camel with goods piled on top and with bright red plastic tubs strapped to each side flowing over with pantyhose and gift wrap and little can't-live-without-it stickers warning people that their forks have sharp points.

Actually, during that last two hours, we hadn't added a whole lot of stuff. We were mostly just waiting for the checkout lines to get long.

"Now that I've done the hard part," my wife announced, "I'm going to go sit down in the cafe and have a soda. You can check out."

And she timed it perfectly. Somehow my wife had not only chosen a time when most of the cashiers were taking their breaks, but she managed to put me in a line where every single person ahead of me had some computer-wrecking problem.

But, despite price checks, power failures, invalid passwords, lost manager keys, alien abductions, and cashier training that looked more like gossip sessions, I finally got checked out. I won't tell you what it all cost, but most people only need one kidney anyway.

"What took you so long?"

"Normal stuff." I never told her the bit about the guy in front of me passing out from hunger. His wife didn't let him stop for lunch.

Wait, you might say. That's only until Saturday afternoon. What about the rest of the weekend?

Patience. I'm getting there!

I lugged everything into the house. "Those go in the basement," my wife would say, acting as traffic control in the entry hall as I come in with yet another load.

It wasn't until I brought in the last box of chicklets that had slid under the seat that my wife announced. "You have to go back to K-mart."

"Their shelves aren't empty yet?"

"They didn't credit you on any of the sale prices." She shoved the armload of tangled cash register tape at me along with the flier. "Look at that. The cat toy at $11.95, they charged us $14.95. The same thing with everything on the list."

"Everything?" I chose a few items at random. Goldfish thermometer, toenail dryer, self-adhesive duck decals. Everything was at the normal price.

I looked for the fine print on the flier. "Uh... this flier isn't good until tomorrow."

"They sent it to me on Thursday."

"Maybe. But today's the 20th. The cash register tape says so. The flier says valid from the 21st to the 27th."

"Well, then, go back and demand that they give you the sale price on all of these items."

Of course, you know what I did. I went back to K-mart and waited in the customer service line. Another hour of my life I could have been using more constructively, like learning how to whittle tent pegs or something. Finally I had the attention of someone who could help.

"I'm sorry, sir. If we gave you tomorrow's prices today, we'd have to do it for everyone."

"I'm not asking for a wholesale change in policy. I'm just asking for a little common sense and customer support."

"Well, you can return everything and get it tomorrow when the sale is valid."

You guessed it. Home. Load up. Cart it all back in to customer service. Wait in line again. Another hour wasted reading the back of a guy's t-shirt proclaiming Stone Cold Austin king of the world. And everything returned.

And today? The whole day was spent picking up the same items I had just returned Saturday evening.

In all, two full days spent getting dubious bargains at K-mart.

But even that's not the worst part of it. It turns out that they had sold the last of the cat toys while I was busy in another part of the store. When I returned without the toy, my wife accused me of purposefully skipping it and of lying to her about it being sold out.

So I'm in the dog house, treated like an untrustworthy, selfish, unappreciative liar.

That's bound to last until K-mart arranges the surgery to get that kidney I owe them.

Did I make you laugh? Want more? Here are a few more of my humor columns on Vocal

Fortune Favors the Bold

Why Clickbait is Wonderful

Language Confusion

Waddling to Work

What, Me Volunteer?

I'm an Urban Legend

Life Under the Glide Path

I Miss My Hair

I'm a Kennedy Cousin

Super-Secret Diet Secrets

My Dogs Love me. Honest!

Yucky Foods!

Trapped in K-Mart

Geminis are Skeptics

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