Your Personal WalMart Shopper

My mom came home from the hospital yesterday!! But before she came home, the dietician and gastroenterologist had lists of what my mom was allowed to eat. I made a big list since I was with my mom when they visited. When my dad came to the hospital (we sat with my mom in shifts), I gave him the list.

He looked it over and said, “It’s going to take me hours to find all this stuff. Could you come with me?”

So I agreed. After all, sending a man into WalMart with a list of weird things is asking for trouble. Yes, I’m sexist. But I also know WalMart—ignorant floor workers and really odd ideas of organization. For example, why would anyone stock rice milk next to unfrozen popsicles? Only WalMart.

When my dad arrived 20 minutes early yesterday morning, I was eating breakfast still in my pajamas. And he announced that he had to be back at the hospital in an hour.  I had to get dressed, drive to WalMart, shop, checkout and drive back in under an hour...no problem.

I changed and pulled a brush through my hair (which is all that I normally do). I drank my coffee in the car—and only spilled on the bottom of the car, not on myself. This takes real skill since I didn’t have time for a travel mug.

We arrived at WalMart. I checked my watch and put on my New England face. This means that I will brook no distractions and will be as rude as it takes. First stop, the pharmacy. We snagged whey protein and nutritional replacement shakes. (ugh.)  Then we went through household goods. My dad raised an eyebrow. I said, “It’s a shortcut to the back of the store. If you shop from back to front it’s faster, most people go front to back.” Yes, I actually spend time thinking about these things.  We started filling up the cart with everything from extra sharp cheddar to lactose free ice cream to milled flax seed. At one point, my dad said, “Why don’t I push the cart and follow you? And you can shop.”  You know, Cal does the exact same thing. I wonder what that says about my shopping habits...

Finally, we finished and made it to the checkout. My dad took our cart to the Twenty-items-or-less cashier. She scowled. We had way over 20 items. But the only other checkout open was on the other side of the store. I told myself to channel New England.  So I ignored the scowl.

When we walked into the parking lot, it had taken exactly twenty-two minutes. I’m sure that must be a new personal record. I’m thinking of hiring myself out as a WalMart speed shopping counselor.  What do you think?