The old man and the wheelchair

It was honestly just the weekend of whack people. One of the guys who works the Service Desk with me asked "Don't you ever get mad?" I'm like "You can't get mad. That's what they WANT." I like to be catty. And to make them feel stupid while being fake polite.

After all. I can go home and go to sleep at night. God, Buddha, Kali, Shiva and whatever other higher powers are out there love me. They hate those sinners and evil-doers.

Sunday was the absolute worst though. I went in at eleven and the 7 a.m. guy went to his lunch. At about 11:30 a.m. they came and got the other guy at the Service Desk and put him on a register. So I'm by myself until 2:30 p.m. when I get an early lunch. I never got a break. I never even got the chance to get a drink of water or anything. I worked for three solid hours by myself on a Sunday. You go in any Wal-Mart on Sunday and look at the Service Desk. That is what I had to deal with.

In the middle of all this mess, this evil old man came up. He wanted a wheelchair cart. We have eight of them, but they've never all worked at the same time. On a busy Sunday on Old Peopleville, what do you expect? Of course they're all in use. I suggested that perhaps if he waited by the door, someone would return one.

He goes "I've been waiting by the door for an hour." Somehow I doubt that.

So I call a supervisor, who goes and gets him a cart. The old fool is so busy telling everyone how badly he has been mistreated that some other 400 pound woman plops herself down on it and drives off.

He finally parks himself on the bench to the left of the Service Desk and glares at me. I guess he's waiting for ME to whip up a cart out of staples, paper clips, rubber bands and packing tape. That'll be the day.

Every ten minutes I call my supervisor, who check the doors and says "No carts." Of course not. Every old fool within 20 miles is shopping, because you know, they don't have anything else to do on Sundays.

Between, during and after all of my customers, he starts yelling at me "Where's my cart."

I try to be polite, but eventually a little of my impatience starts leaking through. Then he starts talking to everyone in line. Some of the older people in line start taking pity on him. I tell him politely that perhaps he would have better luck if he waited by the door.

He goes "I can't walk that d*** far." Well, you walked all the way from the F****** car up to the service desk didn't you, you old fool?

Some of the people in line are like "Oh, I need a cart, but I never take one if I can lean on the buggy." One woman sends her husband to go check the door for one. No cart. Of course not. IF WE COULD FIND A CART WE WOULD GIVE HIM ONE.

Then he gets real passive-aggressive. He gets up, and I think (wrongly) that he's going go sit at a bench by the door. No, he waits in line until he's right in front of my register. Then he says, "I want a cart right now."

I tell him "Sir, we are looking for you a cart. I have asked you if you wanted to sit by the door, because you might have a better chance of getting one there. You can wait here, or you can wait at the door."

He goes "I'm not moving."

I go, "Sir, I need you to move so that I can take care of the other customers." There's a thirtysomething father behind him who's watching this ping-pong verbal battle like it is a tennis match. He is ENTHRALLED!

The old man goes "I'm a customer too. I'm not moving." "Sir, it is Sunday afternoon. All the carts must be in use right now. If there are no carts available, we cannot give you one. Will you please move?"

He opened his mouth to fire again when my supervisor walked by, and he started yelling at him again about "where was my cart?" My supervisor goes "I brought you one" and gave him a dirty look.

The guy waiting to return his stuff sort of slipped around the old fool and came up to the counter. And the old man waited, at the Service Desk, for another 45 minutes until someone brought him a wheelchair cart.

I have no clue what this man's brain chemistry was. I KNOW he has issues. But if you are such a bully that you enjoy power-tripping helpless retail workers, you need to be euthanized. I am all for mandatory senility tests after 60. If you are not a contributing member of society - it's the dog food bin for you.