Had the extreme misfortune to visit a department store this week. Why didn’t someone warn me it was Christmas time? I usually make it a point to avoid stores this close to the holiday. This was sure to try my patience.
I knew I’d made a mistake when I pulled into the parking lot. There were about twenty-five vehicles all circling, like a school of piranhas; waiting to pounce on the first available space as if it were dinner. I joined them—only until I could get back to the exit.
But I still needed to go into the store, so I parked at a nearby fast food restaurant and walked. That got me in the store but did nothing to help me navigate the crowded aisles. And by crowded, I mean packed; like sardines in a can. Only these sardines were moving—and pushing carts—and talking. Which meant most of them were not paying attention.
You’d think nearly everyone pushing a cart would also be a licensed driver, especially considering the million or so cars I’d dodged in the parking lot outside. But that assumption, logical though it may be, tends to give a guy a false sense of security. Apparently, the rules of the road do not apply to shoppers, and neither does common sense. These crazy people were running into each other, running into displays, and creating general mayhem with no regard for human life; most notable, mine. It was truly a madhouse.
Meanwhile, I’m just trying to get to the back of one aisle and then elude the frenzied mob on my way to the check out line. And I do mean line, as in a LONG line. Several of them, in fact.
With nothing better to do, aside from my never-ending to-do list, I waited—patiently. And waited—almost patiently. And then waited some more. I didn’t time it, so I’m not sure how long I waited. All I know is, I was late for work and I don’t even have a set time to be there!
Eventually, I did escape, and now I shall refrain from shopping until after Christmas.
So, what was so important that I just had to brave the raging tide of shoppers? Laundry soap. Seems after catching up on all the laundry due to the washer fiasco at my house (See last week’s blog) we were out. And for some reason, my wife thinks we need clean clothes to wear! Now you see why I was so “patient” at the store—got to keep the woman happy!
Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords, or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. Amazon Profile – http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS. Bruce A. Borders also serves as the Vice President of Rave Reviews Book Club.
The Cock Of The South