Monday, December 19, 2011

I May Need Confession For This One...

Truly, I try to live my life as a peaceful spirit believing we never know what's going on in another's life so we really shouldn't judge. And for the most part I succeed with this mantra. Until recently....

They say necessity is the mother of invention. Sadly, the genius behind my Slob on the Job currently sweeping the nation derived from said necessity. After spending my day with the poster child for slackers everywhere one who you want to believe is trying but really is just biding time, I prepared myself for a trip to Wal-Mart. Thus begins the evening I lost my mind...

I am sure there are many of us just doing the best we can to get through the holidays and pull off a Hallmark-Currier-and-Ives-Ho-Ho-Ho-Merry-Freakin'-Christmas for everyone in our lives. With my budget in hand, I traversed the aisles of Freaks-R-Us to get the few items I could. Surrounded by screaming kiddies and parents swearing at them faster than eight-maids-a-milking, I made it to one of the three (yes, three) open check-outs with my measly haul.

I got stuck behind a couple I shall dub F-Word Two-Carts (FWTC). Mr. and Mrs. FWTC had one cart piled over-the-top full with stuff, and I mean stuff; it was ten minutes before I even saw the baby in the baby carrier. Mrs. FWTC was swearing at him in between such endearing phrases as, "Why you always gotta be buyin', buyin', buyin throwin' the money around like you is crazy or sometin'?" (No kidding - this is verbatim.) This of course is answered with, "Just shut your mouth and watch the prices - whoa! That rang too high! Check it again!"

I truly tried to muster up some holiday spirit until I heard those dreaded words: "Keep the food separate." It was at that moment I knew...I just knew.

Mrs. FWTC proceeded to inform Mister Man that the machine automatically takes the food out as only food can go on the card. At this point I am spinning my thumb rosary in prayer so fast I thought I would sever this little appendage. I figured, hey, either the thumb goes or the top of my head and they are both pretty much at the limit.

FINALLY as Mrs. FWTC is creating a second order for the food the cashier says (and again, I quote), "That will be $369.28 please." The curse words start flying, why you gotta buy-buy-buy, just be quiet and keep the food separate when suddenly Mr. FWTC pulls out a folded-over 3" wad of cash that could choke a horse. Peeling off four one-hundred dollar bills, he completes the first transaction as the cashier begins to ring the second order of the "food." Now it must be noted, I use the term "food" lightly to describe this mess.

By this time I have been in line over ten minutes going over my anticipated purchases, calculating everything in my head when FWTC's food total comes due. And

After working a ten-hour day, trolling Wal-Mart with my coupons and staying within my measly budget, Mrs. FWTC pulls out a benefits card to pay for this mess of soda and pre-packed crap mystery stuff after interrogating Mr. FWTC about how much he used off the card at McDonalds that day.

I swear, I could actually FEEL God clamp His hand over my mouth. And I am convinced this was not an effort for me to be charitable...He did not want me to get shot in Wal-Mart.

Knowing this, I waited until I was safely in my car to scream my head off. So President Obama and Governor Cuomo, when you read this (and you will read this) please take this to heart. Most people would at least be taken to dinner before being screwed taken advantage the way Middle Class America is getting it. I don't have the answers...heck, I probably don't even know all the questions, but I do know this...

I should not be the one going to confession over this travesty.


  1. I knew what was coming, Beth, I truly did. I have no words or answers either. Simply unbelievable. I will drink a beer for you tonight. ~~Bliss

  2. I was just talking to Ralph about some similar things. How the hell people living in gov't housing afford to drive a BMW or Escalade while others can not provide a Christmas for their child because they refuse to ask for help. Once again the middle class has the burden on our shoulders.


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