Lawanda and I were supposed to spend the 9th through the 10th of June in the Wal-Mart in Franklin. We had planned on doing the usual three-day shift, but with the storm approaching so fast Lawanda was afraid of having trouble getting her big butt out of her driveway. So instead of her coming in a little early, she called out completely. I’m sure she thought it was a good call as we ended up with torrential rains that day. However, I wouldn’t be honest with you if I didn’t share with you that part of me enjoyed the thought of Lawanda out on her front lawn trying to escape the waters but couldn’t because she kept going under on account of her huge rear. It really is the little things that get you through a double shift.
With the parking lot under water, you would not believe the amount of people out there trying a little fishing. The above-water high ground was littered with coolers, rods, reels, and canopies as all the parking lot anglers were working jigs, worms, buzz baits, and there’s always a few out there soul poling it. I talked to one gentleman using the soul pole method and he informed me that he had used Spam for bait and was able to catch a bunch of nice red throats in the 2 feet of water. Now I didn’t talk to him outside. No, he came in the Wal-Mart with a bunch of red throats, took a knife, bucket, and cutting board off the shelf, and proceeded to clean his fish in the middle of Wal-Mart. Then he seemed to get upset when we escorted him out when he was trying to batter and fry them. The nerve of some folks, and he was never going to pay for any of it, saying if it never left the store, he didn’t see how it could be stealing.
All that fish cleaning did have me a little hungry. I went to the back and had me a Smithfield pork barbeque sandwich, which is some of the finest barbeque ever made. But don’t jump in your car and waste your time coming in here, they are not being produced anymore in pork. They only produce mystery meat barbecue now. That’s a shame but it’s what can happen when an old family owned business sells out to a Chinese company.
The store on this shift certainly had its issues. The day before the storm hit, like always, we were slammed. I swear Don Slater and Tom Churchill are paid by Wal-Mart to really build up any weather system to make it seem like the will be horrific, that we’ll be without power for days, and that you should stock up on supplies now. Sure enough like clockwork, everyone buys up all the bread, milk, baked beans, and bottled water in a 500 mile radius. The food pyramid is apparently incorrect. It should be bread as a solid foundation, with water above the bread, and some milk splashed on top. You want my opinion, stock up on beer the night before, get blitzed, pass out, and you’ll never even know there was a storm in the first place. Even more, almost without prejudice, there’s a baby boom 9 months later with all the kids being born named after the hurricane that lead to their creation. So everyone’s kids in 9 months will be named Andrea if you’re following along. While I’m on the subject, why do we have such bland names for hurricanes? Why can’t it be done like everything else and make it corporate. Instead of Hurricane Ike, it’ll be the Hurricane sponsored by Lowe’s Home Improvement, and they’ll get their logo splashed on the screen and everything, so when they show projected paths, it’s not some red hurricane looking thing, its Lowe’s logo coming right at you! But what do I know, I’m just a Wal-Mart greeter.
The night of the storm, I couldn’t drive home, so I had to spend the night in the camping section, which brought back memories we don’t need to discuss. It’s surprising that even sleeping in the middle of the store, the sounds coming into the tent sounded much like wildlife. The sound of skanks walking across the produce aisle in their stiletto heels to purchase cucumbers, right there where everybody shops, the horror. Right after I had a supper of beanie weenies and the last bite of Smithfield pork I’ll likely ever consume, I ended up getting a surprise visitor. A little shorty came running out of the storm and joined me under the protection of the tent. She hung around until I got a little forward with her by trying to take pictures of her. Hey, it was worth a shot, and apparently chicks like tents, who knew? Anyway, the storm thankfully wasn’t serious, so I guess that means in no time we’ll be back to 100 degree weather and loose nipples. Oh well, that’s the life of the Wal-Mart Greeter.