Wal-Mart

I haven't been a fan of Wal-Mart since I moved back from Portugal in 2001. It's so big and overwhelming. I miss the interaction with people that seems to happen in smaller shops.

My first morning in the states, however, it was inevitable to go there. I needed essentials like shampoo and contact lens solution, etc. All the things I don't bother to put (half-empty) in my suitcase when coming back to the states.

My dad came with me so that I wouldn't get completely lost in the megastore and end up in tears. (Once, when I couldn't find the eggs in a Wal-Mart, I DID end up in tears. What kind of ding-a-ling can't find eggs? Apparently me.) We found everything I needed relatively quickly...except lotion. We walked up and down each aisle where all human cleansing products can be found until we hit the pet aisle, turned around and tried again. No such luck. Lotion is not with the body wash, shampoo, toothpaste, etc.

Dad says, "Maybe it's in the girly make up section."

I say, "But men need lotion too." Confusion sets in.

Sure enough, lotion is in the girly make up section. That's not how I would organize a store, but then again...that's probably why I don't run a Wal-Mart.

We went to check out and, well.

I wanted to prove that I could handle the self check out machine. I'd mastered it in France, surely I can work one in America, right? Wrong.

Everything went fine until we went to scan a phone card and then a phone. The machine buzzed and told us to call over the cashier lady. She came over and typed in her code with her fake rhinestoned fingernails. The machine buzzed at her.

She cussed and re-typed in her code with her fake rhinestoned fingernails. The machine buzzed at her again. She sighed, cussed again, and kept re-typing in her code with her fake rhinestoned fingernails. I was mesmerized by the flashing bling bling on her nails. After many attempts, she called her boss over to help, and they finally moved us to another machine where it worked just fine.

I escaped that first Wal-Mart trip without any tears...despite the not being able to find something, the check out machine not working, hearing the cashier cuss repeatedly, and being hypnotized by fake rhinestone fingernails. (Maybe the hypnotism is what prevented the melt-down?)

I have accompanied others to Wal-Mart several times since then and have been a little amazed. By the bigger-than-my-torso sized tub of Miracle Whip. By the outfits people will wear. By how big and spread out the store seems. By how nothing seems to be placed under the correct sticker price so that you never really know if that's what it costs. By how friendly almost everyone in Wal-Mart (worker and shopper alike) seem to be.

While I'd still rather shop at smaller stores, I have to admit--I don't think Wal-Mart scares me anymore. Score one point for me against Reverse Culture Shock!