Get Your Wii At Wal-Mart
Jan 28th, 2007 by Alex
I had my first positive experience at Wal-Mart this morning. I called a friend last night to inquire about the night’s social calendar, forgetting that she and her hubby were out of town. Then she asked me a favor. Knowing that I despise Wal-Mart, she wanted to know if I could go pickup a Nintendo Wii from the local Wal-Mart (because they were getting a shipment). For those that don’t know me, that’s the one in Laurel MD. I said that I was planning to go out that morning to run some errands around 11 and that I’d stop by a see if I could get one. She was fine with that.
I woke up at 7:30, unable to sleep. It was early, but I figured “what the hell, I’m already awake, and maybe less of the people that frequent Wal-Mart aren’t.” So I threw on my jeans, got in the car, and drove three minutes to Wal-Mart. I entered through the proper door, said “good morning” to the greeter and was asked by someone if I was looking for a Wii. Why yes, I was. I was told I needed a ticket and would need to go to the Customer Service counter. I was handed a ticket, scarred with the number “13″ written in red ink. I walked over to the desk and saw a young woman waiting in line (although whether it not it was actually a line could be debated, since she was the only one it in until I arrived [thus forming a line at that point]) with a similar ticket in hand marked “14.” She bought hers. I bought mine and was back home in my pajamas at 7:45.
Very little drama compared to the ideal trip to Wal-Mart. I omitted it to get to the point up there, but here it is… just before the “I bought mine” part, an older woman in a cart rolls right up to the counter. The young woman in front of me was completing her transaction and I clearly was standing there waiting since there was only one register open. Nevertheless the older woman starts thumbing through a few receipts. When the young woman finishes her transaction the cashier (who had to be at least 75 years old and probably couldn’t see me at a distance of ten feet without some Coke-bottle glasses) looks at the older woman, ready to help her. The older woman looks and me and says “were you here first?” Uhh. Yes, actually. I know I’m the color of pale putty (not unlike the color of the floor tiles), but I am wearing clothes that distinguish me from the floor tiles or the surrounding area. The older woman let me go ahead of her, friendly as she was.
After my transaction, I couldn’t help but overhear the beginning of hers. She had what appeared to be several boxes of window shades in the cart. She wanted to return some of them and exchange some of the others, but some of the items had been returned twice already. Already confusion had set in on the cashier’s face, thumbing through what had to have been half a dozen stapled sets of receipts. “Now that is for the top one,” the older woman told her, indicating the first set of stapled receipts and the top box. Mercy! I booked it the hell out of there, not wanted to watch the poor cashier bludgeon the older woman with her cane (which was hanging on the counter in the back corner of the Customer Service area).
I was promised a case of beer for completing this task, although it seemed incredible easy. Fifteen minutes, from getting out of bed to being in PJs with a Wii sitting on the couch gift-wrapped in a white plastic Wal-Mart bag. As much as a case of beer is good, it doesn’t seem warranted. I think I’d feel guilty. I’d be happy being invited to the 1st Wii exhibition at the new owners’ home.
