How to lose a husband without really trying

2 p.m. is a really busy time. All the people that came in at 7 a.m. get a break then, so we're trying to get cashiers on and off registers. And another 6 to 8 people are coming in for the 2-11 shift. We have to get them bags (the money they start with), sign it all out and get them on registers. Plus deal with the usual craziness of change requests, help, check approvals, etc.

And today was nutty. Two people had overtime, so they split at 1:30 p.m. Just two of us trying to handle the Friday afternoon shopping rush, when there is normally four.

And there was some problem with Visa's credit authentication line, so people trying to use some Visa cards were being denied all morning. Talk about hopping mad. "What do you mean, my card was denied?" They take it so personal. It's not like we're accusing you. We're just telling you what the register spits out - and I'm always careful to say that it is most likely a computer hiccup.

Anyway, in the midst of all this fun, a frumpy middle-aged woman comes up to the customer service podium. She looks like the type that's going to ask for the Pharmacy (which couldn't be plainer if it was marked in neon) or the greeting cards (which are the easiest things to find in any Wal-Mart).

No, she's lost her husband. And no, she doesn't want him paged. She's literally lost him. Turns out, he was in one of those motorized wheelchairs, has rolled off somewhere, is hard of hearing and she can't find him. We take people off registers, search the store and the parking lot -- no dice. She can't even describe what he's wearing.

And then she goes on and on about how he's diabetic and he might lapse into a coma and all this and all that. And I'm thinking - if this man required such close attention - why did you let him get away from you in the first place? Was the price of carrots that interesting? I still don't know if we ever found him.