You know I don’t like to shop at Wal-Mart, right?  But I found myself there last week, against my better judgment.  I was on my way to my son’s elementary school with my Couscous-Artichoke Salad for the Teacher Conference Dinners when I realized I’d forgotten to bring a serving spoon.  There, to my left, loomed the Big Store.  I made the executive decision that a trip inside was warranted, on this occasion, so that I could quickly score a plastic serving utensil.  I figured I could surely find something for around $2- $3 and be out of there in 5 minutes flat.

Ahem.  Not so much.

I did find lots of plastic black utensils – among them, a perfectly fine serving spoon for—wait for it—a whole 97 cents!  I grabbed said utensil and headed for the checkout, Amex in hand.  On the way I passed the Diet Coke display.  Now let’s be clear about this:  that stuff does not pass my lips except in dire circumstances.  Like, really, never.  I am a Pepsi girl through and through.  However, I am married to someone who, for reasons I cannot comprehend, prefers that Other Stuff.  As my loyal Pepsi-drinking friend, Janet, will attest, it pains people like us to pay full price for Diet Coke.  It’s like throwing money in the trash.  And so, when I saw the big SALE sign, I decided to pick up some poison for my dearest.  ‘Cause it was cheap, see?

Except, wait, no.  Coke, they have.  Cherry Coke, yes.  The Diet Coke area is entirely cleared out, which I find amusing as I look around, wondering which of these shoppers actually drinks a diet beverage.

Um, that was probably inappropriate.  Sorry about that.  I digress.

So I took my fancy serving spoon to the checkout and it was then that I made My Very Big Mistake.

Clerk:  “Did you find everything okay?”


Me:  “Uh, just about.  You’re all out of the Diet Coke that’s on sale.”


Clerk: “Oh. Well, if you can wait just one minute I can run in the back and check that for you.


Me, foolishly, “Um, okay.”

I wait 5 or 6 minutes, which feel like an eternity.  I spend it staring at other shoppers and the seriously non-food yet food-like items in their baskets, and wondering what they do with all of that other fabric and glue and craft-type stuff they buy.  Also, I notice that Wal-Mart seems to sell a lot of antacid.  (Probably to those non-food eaters.)  I also start to feel pretty good about the few times a week I hit the gym. 

I am about the ditch the whole thing and get the heck out of there when I finally see the Clerk sauntering my way.  Without aforementioned Other Stuff.

Clerk:  Yeah, uh, we’re all out of that.  But, um, I can give you a rain check or, you know, the Coke guy comes tomorrow to re-stock everything, so you can just come back tomorrow.


Me, still foolish:  I think I’d prefer the rain check.  I’m not sure I’ll be back tomorrow.


Clerk looks confused.  Apparently everyone comes back tomorrow and she has never encountered this response.  Seriously.  Perplexed.


Clerk:  Huh.  Okay.  Well, if you’ll just wait here for a minute, I’ll go get the paperwork.

She returns a few minutes later, more quickly this time, with a photocopied piece of paper.  I feel like I am back in grade school looking at a blurry mimeograph.

Slowly, painfully, she fills out the Store Number, the Store Location, the Item Requested.

“How many do you want, ma’am.”


Thinking, “None, really,” I say instead, “Um, two, I guess.  Two will be fine.”


“Okay, if you can just fill out this half…”

I complete the other half of the form with my name, phone number, address (really, am I on a Rain Check List now?), and Item Requested. 

“Now, if you’ll just wait here, I will go cut this in half for you.”

And really, this is what she does.  Slowly, painstakingly, she cuts out the box on the left and hands it to me.  Then she cuts out the box on the right and places it in the Crazy People Who Do Not Come Here Every Day And Actually Want a Rain Check file.

All of that for a rain check I’ll never use.  ‘Cause you know I’m not going back, don’t you?