Yep, I did it again. I took all four kids to the store. Alone. After work.
And not only that – I took them 30 minutes away from home to that big box store I’ll lovingly nickname Crap-Mart. (I know, creative huh? My brain is fried… read on and you’ll see why.)
The past two days, I’ve hooked a toddler and a baby into my vehicle only to have a dead battery greet us when I try to start up the car and head out. (You know… after spending an hour getting us all out the door…) FAAAAH-RUUUUS-TRAITING. Now, thankfully, the battery has only been dead on the first trip of the morning and manages to hold a charge after being jumped, but we only have one vehicle so jumping it is a pain in the rear.
So, I checked with Crap-Mart because I could have sworn we just replaced the damn thing. And we did – in February – a short 8 months ago. So, thankfully it is under warranty, but I will have to drive to the nearest Crap-Mart to have it looked at. (Note I said LOOKED AT, not REPLACED. More on that in a minute…)
So, I warn my kids. “As soon as I’m off work at 5, be ready to jump in the car.” It all goes like clock work. Peach and I leave work, pick up Woodchuck (who, by the way, took a FABULOUS nap today! Yay!), descent on the house to pick up my oldest (who have loving packed a snack and drink for Woodchuck) and we get on the road. Everyone is happy. I have a plan of attack for needed Thanksgiving groceries and we are making good time.
We arrive at Crap-Mart at about 5:40 p.m. and drop the car off at automotive. The clerk says “We have someone needing a tire and another battery in front of you and then we’ll get you taken care of.” Sounds simple enough. I have armed myself with a comp list so I can get the best price available on turkey, bananas, cranberry sauce and potatoes. Once we’re done collecting the things we need, we’ll make a stop at the most inexpensive place for us to eat – Subway and then get the car and head home. All in time to get the kids to bed at a decent time.
Why can’t things work like I have them planned out in my head? Life would be so much easier.
Now, granted, everything ALMOST went according to plan. Except for Mark and the diagnostics machine.
We made it through my shopping list. We picked up chicken poppers (pure GENIUS) from the deli for Woodchuck and Peach. They’re tickled. We’ve picked up flavored water for everyone for supper. We’ve had a delightful time checking out and ‘comping’ our items super cheap and I’m thrilled with my deals. (Even if I did spend more than planned because Peach got a cool mist humidifier, a gate to keep her from wandering into the bathroom and Woodchuck’s room, plus a new monitor.)
We head to Subway where Fred and G actually AGREE on a footlong sandwich they can split (cause I’m cheap like that…). I pick out my sandwich, we pay and get sat down to eat.
That’s it. That’s the last moment I was happy at Crap-Mart tonight.
Because of Mark.
Mark was sitting a few seats away. Observing us, apparently, but I’m really not paying much attention to Mark.
Then he starts talking to Peach. In an annoying idiotic voice that makes you want to claw your ears out of your head. “You’re such a pretty little girl.” “You aren’t going to throw your food at me, are you?” He then proceeds to do the ‘wet-hound-dog-shaking-it’s-head-after-a-bath’ thing. YES, really. I was sufficiently annoyed and questioning his sanity at this point, but it gets better. He then proceeds to slowly explain to me that his name is Mark and he works at Wal-Mart (as he holds up his name badge from his booth to show me). Then the rambling begins. I should have just told him to shut the eff up. Seriously.
But I’m a polite person. Too polite.
Mark decided that since I had given him an inch, that he’d just go right ahead and explain to me exactly WHY I should be sure to study all of my receipts closely because every Subway receipt has a website address for you to visit to complete a survey and get a free cookie on your next visit. Ok, cool.
Nope. Mark ALSO had to COME INTO MY PERSONAL SPACE and SHOW me how to complete the survey on his cell phone. As I’m contemplating whether I should club the guy for getting too near Peach and I (…mother bear… protecting her young… I’m sure that would stand up in court…) He is literally showing me every single step it takes to complete this survey.
I’m pissed at his audacity. I’ve lost my appetite. I don’t want my sandwich any more. I just want to GET. AWAY. FROM. MARK. IMMEDIATELY.
So, I start packing things away and rushing my kids. Which isn’t fair to them. They never get to eat out and the one night we get to (even if it IS only Subway in Crap-Mart), we have to deal with crazy Mark.
And Mark IS NOT GETTING IT. He just keeps talking and trying to show me the survey. And I’m stupid enough to kind of pay attention to him. Because I’m stupidly polite that way.
Finally we get away and head back to automotive. Surely they’re close to being done. It’s been over an hour and fifteen minutes. It’s a battery. No big deal.
Nope. Just started running the diagnostic on the old battery. “I’m sorry, but we can’t replace it until the diagnostic finishes running and says it needs replaced.” “Great. And how long will that take?” “Between 5 and 40 minutes.” <sigh>
An HOUR later… the diagnostic is finally done and (surprise, surprise) I need a new battery.
We finally get to check out and head home. 30 miles. We got home at 9:00 p.m. on a school night.
Did I mention that my husband is gone
hunting male bonding? I’ll save that for another post though.