Buggies and things

I am a magnet for crazy people. Well, maybe working at Wal-Mart has something to do with it.

I was supposed to leave at 6 p.m. Sunday night. My feet hurt, I could tell I was coming down with a cold and all I really wanted to do was sleep. I had been at the Service Desk pretty much by myself since 4 p.m., when they pulled the other two people off and tossed them on a register because two of the 4 p.m. cashiers didn't show up.

I saw the evening supervisor wander by at 6:15 and asked her when I could go home. She sort of "pretended" not to hear me and then ran to fix a problem on Register 8. So I guess I was on my on. Then it go so busy I thought my eyes were going to cross and my feet were going to fall off.

I was moving at a pretty good clip — the people in my line were decently happy - they just said "they should get you some help up here" — but no one was angry — and I was doing business as fast as I could.

Then this crazy woman with hair all over the place and a sundress and no bra — AND IT WAS POURING OUTSIDE — yeah, get that picture — came up and started hollering.

"I want a buggy." Umm. This is the Service Desk. It is Sunday night though, so the cart pushers may be behind. I never understand why people do that though. When the carts are out at the door, they come further INSIDE to get one. Even though it is further to the Service Desk than back out the door to the first cart rack. Because you know, NO ONE ELSE HAD THE SAME BRILLIANT PLAN TO SEE IF WE KEEP A SPECIAL STASH OF CARTS THAT SAY "RESERVED FOR JANET SMITH" just waiting at the Service Desk for you.

"Did you try both doors, ma'am?"

"I want one of these buggies." And she points to one of the ones that's jammed with stuff that people leave all over the store. And the stuff that either has food that has been returned and we can't sell again or merchandise that has to go back to our Claims department.

"Ma'am, can you give me a second and I can try to get a buggy for you?" I was trying to do all this and deal with the seven people WAITING in line in front of me. While she's rumbling carts around at the Service Desk.

"I feel so hot. So sick. I just want to get out of here. I want a buggy now. You should be helping me." A buggy might be what you want. What you need is a good slap across the face.

So apparently I wasn't moving fast enough for her. At this point, she takes matters into her own hands and starts unloading the least empty cart, the one that defective merchandise has been going into for the last four hours. And we take back a LOT of defective merchandise. I see her start to just throw the stuff into whatever buggy she can find.

"Ma'am, if you're going to do that, could you please just put it on the floor? That is defective merchandise."

She bridles at me. "I don't see why it matters. I need the cart. I feel sick and I need to get out of here." You feel sick and need to get out of here, but you're going to go shopping instead?

I just keep on doing my thing at my register.

An hour and 15 minutes later, when it is nearly 7:30 p.m., they finally send someone up for me. And who is the new girl's first customer? The crazy woman.

She's got a buggy full of stuff.

"Can you take me here? I feel bad and need to get out. The lines are so long. It is so busy tonight."

This woman must live in a constant state of denial. She feels "bad" but manages to unload a cart jammed with defective merchandise, then load it with her shopping, then stand on her feet and shop for another 75 minutes. In spite of feeling "bad" and "needing to go home." Un-freaking-real.