So I was at Burlington coat factory, next to Wallymart, and yes, I ventured in! Gather round!
This Wallymart was in better shape than the last one I went to on vacation elsewhere, 25 years ago. At least the shelves were stocked.
But, oh the show didn't disappoint!
1. Start with it taking 15 minutes to measure and tag my yard and a half of fleece....A dozen people with name tags who passed by me in the center aisle, (obviously with state-level security clearance, based on their concerned, determined gallop), looked at me like I had asked them to neuter their dog with a clearance shelf christmas tree branch. They backed away, horrified.
After a few tries, one of them gave me the secret Griffindor spell. She said, "Push the button." Absolutely dumbfounded, I just stared back at her, silently, mouth ajar. At which time she moved some forgotten merchandise aside and, behold! There was a bright red button attached to the counter! Immediately upon pressing it, Wallymart zombies from hell began chanting, "Helper to the fabric department. Helper to the fabric department." As you can imagine, I found that quite reassuring!
Another 5 minutes passed, and eventually, the oldest worker there, who was likely a hardware guy, needed another 5 minutes to find, read (out loud) the little tiny numbers on the directions to get his zapper to capture the bar code on the bolt. Luckily, it was already the right yardage....I think he needed a break after all that. Nice guy. I cheerfully thanked him. Grand total purchase: $4.50. It went right into the wash, on hot. Ahem.
2. Before that, I was met by several social security pension lurkers who slowly surrounded me every time I checked a price tag. Clearly, this is their turf, and they were letting me know it!
3. But the best part was the 2 times I heard a youngish bleached-blonde woman hurling not-for-tv f and s bombs at the top of her lungs. They sounded as if some child (or mis-behaving dog) wasn't following closely enough. I didn't have the heart to take a look and see, but it had to be a young child, because anyone tall enough would have returned fire.
Surprisingly, I wasn't the only masked person: The helpers were masked, as were maybe 30% of the shoppers.
I doubt I'll live long enough to wait another 25 years to return, so, if you see any of those pensioners, thank them for the fleece, for me, ok?
