Beware the Walmartians
I'm ashamed to admit this: I had a fight with a Walmartian. If you haven't wasted 15 minutes laughing at http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/photos/, you should. You really should. I confess that Walmart is my one-stop spot for groceries and kids clothes. That said, I refuse to qualify for a photo on that website. I DO NOT, under any circumstances, wear pajamas to Walmart. I do not wear crocs. I do not wear t-shirts that make reference to bombs, farts or trailer park boys. I may shop there but I am not a Walmartian.
The monster who hooked me into a verbal altercation in check-out lane #14 was a bonefide Walmartian. Her stringy, straw like, bleach blonde hair hung limply from her worn out baseball cap. She wore ripped yoga pants and a pink rain poncho. Her rough looks weren't the issue, her bat-shit crazy behaviour was. Here's what went down. I pulled my cart loaded with a weeks worth of groceries into the check-out lane. There she stood, ahead of me, with one, single item in her hands. She opted to hold the item rather than place it on the empty conveyor belt beside her. Fair enough, but I can't wait for her to hand it to the cashier, pay for it and leave before I start unloading my cart. I began dropping my fruits and veggies onto the belt and when it rolled up, passed where she was standing, I said to the cashier "These things are mine. She's ahead of me, she's only got one thing". I set a box of instant oatmeal on the conveyor belt and was gobsmacked when it came flying back at me, along with my apples and a cucumber. Apparently, the box had grazed the hand she had resting on the edge of the belt, so she saw fit to swipe her arm along the belt, sending my groceries flying backwards. Startled by a cascade of falling groceries, I said indignantly "Excuse me!??" in my very best "Oh no, you didn't" kind of voice. She stepped towards me and said
"Don't ever touch my fucking hand again"
Me: "I didn't touch your hand, you crazy bat."
She came even closer so that I could smell her breath, it matched her looks.
"I'm not in the fucking mood for this shit"
Me: "Do I look like I'm in the fucking mood for this??" I turned to the cashier, who looked like he might be pooping himself. "Maybe you should call security, this one's mental"
Her face was still far too close to mine for my comfort and I told her that she'd best get out of my face pronto.
Her: "Your ugly face. Look at your freckles, you're fucking ugly"
Me: "My face? You need botox, lady. Your bleach blonde hair isn't fooling anyone. You're older than dog shit and dog shit's been around a loooooong time".
She paid for her coffee grinder and walked away without looking back. I took a deep breath and was finally able to take in the environment around me. The check-out lanes on either side of me seemed frozen, Walmart staff and customers staring at me. I glanced down to my left where my 4 year old was gaping at me, tears welling up in his eyes. In the heat of the moment, I'd forgotten he was even there. I crouched to wrap him in a hug and tell him that he didn't need to worry about a thing. I paid for my groceries as fast as possible and made a quick escape to the parking lot. On the drive home, I told Owen how sorry I was that he heard me use the words I'd chosen. I told him I'm sorry that he was there to see that. I turned the radio up and had a quiet cry because I was so embarrassed to have been 50% of that exchange. I had an opportunity to teach Owen how best to respond to a bully and I blew it by sinking to her level. On one hand, I'm glad Owen didn't see me cower to that nutbar. I'm glad that he didn't witness me scooping my groceries up off the floor, blubbering my apologies to her. On the other, I wish I'd have reigned in my language and thought twice before slinging shallow insults back at her.
The moral of this story? Beware the Walmartians.
The monster who hooked me into a verbal altercation in check-out lane #14 was a bonefide Walmartian. Her stringy, straw like, bleach blonde hair hung limply from her worn out baseball cap. She wore ripped yoga pants and a pink rain poncho. Her rough looks weren't the issue, her bat-shit crazy behaviour was. Here's what went down. I pulled my cart loaded with a weeks worth of groceries into the check-out lane. There she stood, ahead of me, with one, single item in her hands. She opted to hold the item rather than place it on the empty conveyor belt beside her. Fair enough, but I can't wait for her to hand it to the cashier, pay for it and leave before I start unloading my cart. I began dropping my fruits and veggies onto the belt and when it rolled up, passed where she was standing, I said to the cashier "These things are mine. She's ahead of me, she's only got one thing". I set a box of instant oatmeal on the conveyor belt and was gobsmacked when it came flying back at me, along with my apples and a cucumber. Apparently, the box had grazed the hand she had resting on the edge of the belt, so she saw fit to swipe her arm along the belt, sending my groceries flying backwards. Startled by a cascade of falling groceries, I said indignantly "Excuse me!??" in my very best "Oh no, you didn't" kind of voice. She stepped towards me and said
"Don't ever touch my fucking hand again"
Me: "I didn't touch your hand, you crazy bat."
She came even closer so that I could smell her breath, it matched her looks.
"I'm not in the fucking mood for this shit"
Me: "Do I look like I'm in the fucking mood for this??" I turned to the cashier, who looked like he might be pooping himself. "Maybe you should call security, this one's mental"
Her face was still far too close to mine for my comfort and I told her that she'd best get out of my face pronto.
Her: "Your ugly face. Look at your freckles, you're fucking ugly"
Me: "My face? You need botox, lady. Your bleach blonde hair isn't fooling anyone. You're older than dog shit and dog shit's been around a loooooong time".
She paid for her coffee grinder and walked away without looking back. I took a deep breath and was finally able to take in the environment around me. The check-out lanes on either side of me seemed frozen, Walmart staff and customers staring at me. I glanced down to my left where my 4 year old was gaping at me, tears welling up in his eyes. In the heat of the moment, I'd forgotten he was even there. I crouched to wrap him in a hug and tell him that he didn't need to worry about a thing. I paid for my groceries as fast as possible and made a quick escape to the parking lot. On the drive home, I told Owen how sorry I was that he heard me use the words I'd chosen. I told him I'm sorry that he was there to see that. I turned the radio up and had a quiet cry because I was so embarrassed to have been 50% of that exchange. I had an opportunity to teach Owen how best to respond to a bully and I blew it by sinking to her level. On one hand, I'm glad Owen didn't see me cower to that nutbar. I'm glad that he didn't witness me scooping my groceries up off the floor, blubbering my apologies to her. On the other, I wish I'd have reigned in my language and thought twice before slinging shallow insults back at her.
The moral of this story? Beware the Walmartians.
WOW THAT IS INTENSE. I GIVE YOU PROPS FOR STANDING UP TO HER LIKE THAT. IT IS HARD AS A MOM TO KNOW EXACTLY WHAT TO DO IN A SITUATION LIKE THAT WHEN YOUR CHILD IS ONLY A FOOT AWAY. YOU DID WELL I THINK GIVEN THE SITUATION. YOU EXPLAINED TO OWEN YOUR MISTAKE AND I'M SURE HE WILL BE PROUD OF YOU ONE DAY. LOL
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