I routinely text "I'm in hell" to my husband while in Walmart.
I have a strong love-hate relationship with Walmart. I hate it, but where else can I buy a loaf of bread, a coffee pot, and a can of paint under one roof?
I believe it is a scientific fact that no one can leave Walmart spending less than $17.96. Even if you just run in for a gallon of milk and band aids, you will discover Walmart has rolled back prices on random items like citronella candles, toothpaste, and flip flops. Before you know it your cart is full of forty-two dollars worth of products made in China and shipped to the U.S. for your convenience.
Inevitably, I take my odd assortment of necessities to the checkout line where I am reminded that hell exists on earth.
Hell is being in a Walmart checkout line with three carts ahead of you and a price check going terribly wrong at the register.
Looking around at the other lines you discover they are moving, albeit rather slowly. You're trapped in your lane because you are committed to it. You are superstitious enough to believe if you move to a faster lane, you will cause it to halt immediately.
There are no express lanes in Walmart despite the fact that several are labeled that way. This is just Walmart's way of instilling false hope in your heart before crushing it like a bug.
Damn you, Walmart!
No matter what line you choose, it will come to a dead stop as some walmartian insists the sign for live bait said $2.50 and not $2.99. Of course, the clerk at the counter has no idea so she needs to call the pimply faced, high school student worker to go find out.
Of course, the live bait is sold in the camping and fishing department which is a mere 2.5 miles from the register. As the pimply faced, high school student saunters off at a pace slower than your 92 year old aunt Erma, you begin digging in your purse for 49 cents. You are willing to make this donation to Walmart on behalf of Mr. I-Cannot-Dig-Up-My-Own-Worms just so the line moves. You can only find 27 cents at the bottom of your purse.
At this point, you have an out of body experience. You realize there are people not in Walmart, and you imagine what they are doing with their freedom.
You start to understand the desire to shoplift, and you know serving time would be less painful than standing in the Walmart checkout line from hell. As you consider shoving a gallon of milk up your shirt, you catch the eye of a 4 year old girl in the cart ahead of you. Her nose is running and she has Doritos stains on her cheek. Her look brings you back from your fantasy of shoplifting and you remain rooted in the line from Hell.
You look around for others who feel your pain, but there is no one willing or able to make eye contact with you except that 4 year old girl in the cart ahead of you. She begins eating her boogers and you realize you're hungry. When did you last eat? Will you ever eat again? Oh my! You might actually die in this line.
Panic sets in. You need to say goodbye to your loved ones. Your blood sugar is dropping and you know you aren't going to make it. You root around for your cell phone and text, "I'm in hell!" to your husband and a few other random people. At least they'll know where to find your dead body.
Aisle 27. Walmart, U.S.A.