Red Card

27. May 2008

So I wish a certain retailer would take their stupid credit cards and stick ’em where the sun don’t shine.  I don’t want one so quit asking me.  If I wanted one, I’d have one and I’d use it.

Saturday morning I took Justin and Cameron grocery shopping at a store whose name rhymes with Blooper Narget.  This is no small feat, mind you.  Other than Cameron deciding that once we found the jump rope I promised him (to use as a whip in his Indiana Jones get-up) that he wanted to leave THAT INSTANT, and Justin busting into the Batman fruit snacks before we’d checked out, they’d done remarkably well during this hour-long journey.

So when we were ready to check out, naturally all the lanes were full.  I picked the one I thought would be quickest, and of course the Windholz Fifth Law of Motion kicked in, which states, “An object at rest will remain at rest in whatever line you pick until frustration pulls you into another line at which point your original line will resume motion.”  So we loaded up all of our stuff as the very loud woman ahead of us struggled with a step ladder and broke something off the step ladder and was trying to figure out where the piece of step ladder shrapnel was supposed to go.  Meanwhile we’ve stalled in an aisle that is a prime Cameron trouble zone because it’s where all the weird candy rings, pops, necklaces and other overpriced kid-magnet crap are located.  He was eyeing a push-pop while Justin embarked on his third fruit snack, handing me the half-chewed up white ones that he deemed to be “icky.”

The cashier propositioned the woman with the step ladder. “Would you like to save 10% and open up a Red Card today?”  Loudmouth woman said, yes this sounds like a FINE idea.  So now I am forced to cool my heels and wait while they go through the arduous process of signing up for a credit card while customers are WAITING in queue behind them.  Of course by now I had everything unloaded onto the conveyor belt.  Even though Justin was trying to poke holes into the nectarines through the plastic, it was really not feasible at this point to pack up and move to another aisle, even though a new register just opened on the other side.


Cameron had moved on from the candy to the stuff located in the unmanned check-out next to us and was playing with the red phone and opening drawers.

Bigmouth couldn’t find her driver’s license, she had to think long and hard about her zip code.  She dug through a behemouth purse that contained more junk than a garbage barge floating off the coast of New Jersey.

I was visibly SIGHING in typical Minnesota passive-aggressive fashion.  When they finally finished and moved on, Cashier Guy said to one of the team leads, “I got a Red Card.”  This was where I almost lost it.  Instead of team lead person, who saw me standing there, apologizing because I had to wait an extra ten minutes to check out, she whipped out her walkie-talkie and announced to everyone on the store frequency, “Congratulations to Jason for the second Red Card of the day!!!”  She then put a little red bear with the store logo on top of his register.  I really wanted to ask if they could please hold off on the ticker tape parade until he finished scanning my groceries so I could LEAVE THE STORE already.

Next time I’m going to give Justin a pack of M&M’s and then take them away for the explicit purpose of inciting a tantrum.  Or just turn Cameron loose to do whatever he can think of doing, which would be way better than any revenge my non-five year-old brain could devise.

© Jennifer Alys Windholz, 2009


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