General retail outlet observations

Last week Mandy got a fix-it ticket in our car. A head light and a tail light were out, and truth be told, because it was just her and Shelby in the car, they were probably listening to Hannah Montana and swerving to the beat. Because she was at her mother's house running her day care, while her mom was on a Twilight (the movie) Pilgrimage to Washington. I had to fix it last Saturday at her mom's house so that she could have the ticked waived.

I propped open the hood and stared helplessly. No tools. K-mart was the closest thing I could think of that would have tools. Off I went in a quest for a 10mm socket and ratchet.

I pulled into the parking lot and wondered if I hadn't made the wrong turn into Chernobyl. a lone tumble weed bounded merrily end over end across the parking lot. Checking the clock I found I was there at regular business hours... but I was the only one there at regular business hours. Apprehensively I stepped into the store. The lights were on. A soft elevator song played quietly overhead. A cashier was standing at her register. Leaning over, resting her arm on the counter and her head propped up on her arm. She slowly and lethargically wandered in and out of consciousness. The motion of the door alerted her senses. She stood up quickly, grabbed the phone and dialed in one swooping motion. Standing straight up and staring right at me with large eyes, she tried to whisper into the phone but was so excited I heard everything. "Sir! A customer! Yes, right now! He just came in now! Yes, I still remember the training! I gotta go I think he is actually coming in to shop!" I rounded an end display and turned to find a clerk dusting merchandise on the shelf. He did a double take and looked at me in horror. For a few seconds he stared at me as if he was expecting me to hurt him and then suddenly snapped into awareness "Welcome to K-mart" He blinked "Can I help you find something?" I breezed on by him "nope".

The manager appeared in a brisk walk before I entered the tool section. He had his head down and he was muttering "Please, please, please buy something!" He almost ran into me. Looking up he stopped and said "Good morning sir! Please buy something!... I mean, what can I help you find this glorious morning?" I said "No, I am fine." He continued to follow behind me as I gazed over their tools. I noticed that as I would reach out to something he would begin mumbling "Yes! Yes! Yes!" If I withdrew my hand he would continue to nervously chew on his fingernails. If I picked something up, he would say "Oh, that is a very lovely choice sir!" When I put it back he would spit out a chunk of fingernail and mutter "CURSES!" Finally I selected a 10 piece socket set and started walking towards the cash register. He jumped up and down and began clapping his hands exuberantly together. He picked up a walkie talkie from his hip and said "Look alive everyone! We got a paying customer here!"

I made my way to the cash register and the cashier asked me "Will that be credit or debit?" and flashed a smile to the manager as if she was anxious to prove that she had remembered and been rehearsing what to say. When I left I looked back in time to see the manager sniffing and cradling the receipt and a crowd of 4 or 5 employees celebrating. What's the deal with K-mart. Doesn't anyone shop there anymore?

Yesterday we were shopping at Sam's club. Saturdays are sample days. I like to watch people. I like to observe my own actions. I noticed that when it comes time to take a sample a line usually forms. The person at the front of the line takes a sample, tastes it, raises their eyebrows, shakes their head in approval and says "Mmmm! This is good!" Like the person giving the sample cares. Like they aren't just there to collect a pay check and dole out tiny samples of food that we have all had. Whether you have had the the sample or not, it is the rule that you have to gingerly pick it up and look at it briefly in wonderment, like you are unsure what to do with it. Then take a tiny bite offer up praise and then you are permitted to eat the rest of the sample. Because, I am sure we are aware if the sample person hears negative comments they will immediately fold up their table, toss their food in a cart and say "Well! If you don't like my food, then I'm going somewhere will they WILL like my food!"

After we sample, the sample person tells us how much the item is and where it is located. We all nod to each other like that is an insanely good deal and slowly we wonder off in that general direction like we fully intend on loading up several cart fulls of said product. Then when we feel the sample person isn't looking anymore, we say to people shopping with us, "GO!" and we duck down an aisle towards the next sample table.

Then there are the sample bombers. The people who sneak in while the sample person is explaining to the person at the front of the line that this product has no MSG and only has minimal amounts of horse meat. The sample bomber tip toes in hunched over and says "I'm just gonna..." and they reach out with their index finger raised, snatch a sample and shrink back into the crowds thereby circumventing the homage and proper respects one must pay to take a sample. One sample table ran out of samples and while a new batch was being cooked an impromptu line formed several rows back for samples. Everyone stood reverently and attentively like they were waiting to receive sacrament from their Priest.

In an earlier trip to Sam's I was making my way down the aisle to get some soap. I was trapped behind an elderly couple. They took turns, one pushing the cart, the other walking next to the cart while looking at EVERYTHING like their lives depended on it. I tried the usual tactics, trying to nudge my cart in, clearing my throat, saying "Excuse me!" They could not be persuaded. They were fully engulfed in their shopping experience. Then they parked their cart in the aisle and they both stood next to it blocking traffic in both directions and stood there staring at the vast array of metamucil, Centrum Silver or Depends... I don't know. By this time there were two people bunched up behind me and a lady coming the other way down the aisle who were all just standing there waiting for these people to move the Hell out of the way! The lady who was coming the other way and I exchanged looks of amazement, frustration, humor and uncertainty about the situation. We were both trying to nudge our way through and they were completely oblivious. Finally the old lady stepped down the aisle allowing a path between the old man and his cart that one could slip their cart between. the lady coming the opposite direction snuck her cart through and then I slipped through. I looked back and noticed the old man had stepped back and plugged up the lane again. Old or not, boo! to oblivious shoppers.

Also, if you want a really great website about our fellow shoppers, specifically those of The Walmarts, Check out http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/

"I smell famous people"

Saturday we were given tickets to go to the state fair. I like to go and count mullets just as much as the next guy, so I was all in. We met Mandy's family there. The fact that we all arrived there within 10 minutes of each other means that we are all either growing up or Mandy's sister Katie is finally having an influence on all of us with her quite persistent nagging. Symbolically you could think of her as the goat herder and the family as goats. Goats that are more like cats, or turtle cats, or turtle cats that are easily distracted by shiny things. Whatever animal that is, is what the family represents. Think of Katie back behind a herd of turtle cats, a constant barrage of obscenities, intermingled with a few directions flowing steadily from her lips. A 20 foot whip masterfully guided in one hand that she sends, cracking over our heads when we stop to look at a pretty shiny thing. Her other hand is scratching her pregnant belly. Usually we are all pitifully late, so this is why I pause in this tale to make note of this rather remarkable event. Actually, now that I think about it, I think Katie was late too, which might have made this event possible, but let's forget that and just marvel at the sheer wonderment of the Larsen clan collecting at a specific point all within 10 minutes of each other. That's monumental. I think the event is actually listed as one of the signs of the last days. I would do some repenting if I were all of you... or sinning. Whatever is on your agenda.

So, we all meet at the entrance to the state fair. I found a spot near the middle of the herd, Katie's whip has a harder time finding you in that area. Mandy's brother Seth was on one side of me and Mandy's sister Melanie was on the other side. We hadn't made it too far in maybe 200 feet or so, so my mullet count was only in the low hundreds when I notice Melanie off to my right stand straight up like she was in roll call for inspection by the General. Her nostrils flared slightly as she sampled the air with a few quick whiffs, and then her head began rotating on a scan like it was a radar tower. She mumbled "David?" as her head rotated to the 7 o'clock position "David...Archuleta?" she said quietly. Then she blurted out "DAVID ARCHULETA! HEY GUYS! IT'S DAVID ARCHULETA!" I glanced over and saw someone walking briskly with their head down, darting in and out of the crowds. I laughed. If Melanie is anything like her sister, my wife then this was definitely NOT David. I scoffed at her. "That's not Dave!" I can't keep track of how many times I have heard Mandy say "Hey look! It's Michael Jordan!!!" and I said something like "Mandy, that is a fat, mid-aged white guy with a Laker's jersey on" and she says "Oh..." By the time I had issued my pessimism to Melanie she had already sprinted ahead about 30 feet through the crowd and was coming up fast on who she thought was David Archuleta. My brother-in-law Seth leaned into me in disgust and offered "You know, it's jackasses like Melanie that make celebrity's lives so miserable." I watched waiting for the uncomfortable moment when Melanie would get this poor fellow's attention and realize it wasn't who she thought it was. Well, turns out she was right. It was David. David was polite enough, but he was very nervous about creating a scene, excused himself and continued his brisk walk. I am sure he just wanted to get in there, get a look at the 2 ton Jersey bull named "red" pick up a blanket from one of the booths there with a picture of a wolf howling at the moon and get out of there.

Then Katie tells Melanie "remember that time we saw David's cousin?" Now they had my attention "You saw his cousin? How did you know it was his cousin?" She said "Because he told me he was his cousin. I asked him 'Are you related to David Archuleta?' and he said he was, that he was David's cousin"

I am baffled. Can they just like, smell the fame in the air. I wonder if they have ever walked up to someone and said "You smell like you are famous. How should I know you?"

I made sure to tell Melanie that I thought she was a geek. But what I was secretly wondering was if this was some sort of sixth sense. Could the paparazzi follow behind her in LA and have her point out celebrities darting in and out of crowds and store displays. Like some sort of celebrity blood hound. Celebrities like Nick Joaquin Phoenix would be muttering "Damn! I even dressed like a homeless vagrant so no one would recognize me! But she sniffed right through my disguise!" and someone who overheard him might say "I knew you were Joaquin, but I didn't know that you weren't a homeless vagrant?!" Still, I am sure it his hard to find work for a turtle cat, that is distracted by shiny things, no matter how good their celebrity sniffer is.

Little Pigeon

A while back I was in Los Angeles for some training. For lunch some colleagues and I were walking around LA by the Staples center. I saw some pigeons strutting around. They brazenly strolled back and forth in front of me, heads bobbing like they were listening to some reggae that I could not hear. They pretend to be smooth as the breeze they float on, but their twitchy head snaps reveal their nervous and paranoid inner fears. I have found them in every city I have been to. I suspect they enjoy the tall buildings, dank and putrid alleys and the allure of smelly grey bearded guys pushing shopping carts full of aluminum cans, quietly muttering nonsense to their selfs.

Do you ever notice within yourself a quiet desire to do something that suddenly wells up in a usually unexpected time that derives from generations of self preservation or predisposition? Some people might grow angry in a tense situation when they might not otherwise be an angry person. Maybe you see a baby with fat cheeks and feel a desire to pinch. You might be driving by a lake on a hot summer day and feel like bailing out of your car and running head long into the open embrace of the cool blue waters. Perhaps you find yourself suddenly afraid of snakes when you see one in real life. I like to say that is why I don't skydive, bungee jump or go on roller coasters. hundreds of thousands of years of selective genetics has pre-programmed me, hard wired me... if you will, to not want to just jump off of a bridge.

One such desire I have that gurgles up to the surface whenever I see a pigeon is to run up and just punt that little guy way up into the sky where he came from. I am not sure where this want comes from. Especially when I see a big round pigeon strutting broad side to me tantalizingly close. I just imagine in my head the intense gratification of connecting with my toes, hearing the deep, hollow "THOOMP!" sound and watching the bird sail up 15 - 20 feet in the air, spread its wings and flap away. I just know it would be the greatest moment of my life.

Maybe it is the glint or the intensity in my eye, or their own set of self preserving dispositions that make them stay just far enough away from me that I can't actually take that long stride and swing my foot and boot them skyward. Perhaps that is the other reason they like cities because there are too many people watching that I suspect would take issue with me kicking a bird. But so help me, if I find myself in a quiet alley, a fat pigeon strutting too close, no one watching that would call the ASPCA, Humane Society, Child Protective Services, police, gasp in horror or think it would be nothing short of exhilarating to see me in my aviary field goal practice, then I am so lifting that leg back and swinging for the moon.