I Ate Hansel and Gretle in Walmart

Welcome to my new home!

It�s good to change, don�t you think?

Speaking of changes, I took down the Autumn decorations, threw out the rotting pumpkins and vacuumed up the debris from the hay bale in the living room and put up the Christmas tree this week. Up came the box from the basement, the tree came out in 3 pieces, hinged together, and whammo. Instant merriment. I love it. The smell of plastic still reminds me of huddling around my family�s fake tree to open the presents on Christmas morning when I was a child.

When I was home in Colorado last week, I helped my Mom put up her snowy village scene, and decided that I had to have one, no matter what the cost. I had no idea just how costly it could be. For me, the cost was the sacrifice and horror of a trip to Wal-Mart in December.

The parking lot is half the size of the town itself, and it was completely full when I went. I had to park near the end of the farthest row away from the door and hike to the building. The lines for checkout were ungodly, as were the faces of the people waiting in them. I grabbed a cart and dodged angry New Jersians screaming at their children or random employees and skipped to the Christmas department, determined to remain in my chipper mood.

I tried to look carefully through the village houses and townsfolk figurines to put together the perfect collection, until a claustrophobic fit overcame me and I grabbed boxes with both hands, threw them into the cart, and barreled my way through the crowds towards the registers. There I was met with the same faces I saw on the way in. Not the same expressions on different faces, the same people were still in line. I spent the next 30 minutes in line behind them watching two women in front me tag team shop. One stayed in line with the cart while the other went dashing back to some department to pick up two matching items and come back for judgement. If the cart watcher didn�t like it, the items were left on the floor, stuffed into the candy rack, or draped over the mini wall of the cashier next to us. By the time they were done, they�d left a trail behind them that Hansel and Gretle would have been envious of.

Despite my best efforts, I felt my chipper mood slipping, when I realized that it wasn�t just the customers who were getting irate and obnoxious. I had glared ahead at the slowest cashier in the world as she rang customers up in my line, and had contemplated abandoning my place for a spot in the next line where the cashier appeared to be rather quick and competent. Before I could make the switch, I saw the competent cashier throw up her hands and proclaim that she quit. With a few dozen people in her line. She didn�t even bother with a final paycheck, I actually saw her throw her nametag on the floor as she made a b-line for the front door. I knew just how she felt, and my jealousy was overwhelming.

The incident got me chuckling and distracted me just enough to allow me to put on a big smile for the slowest cashier in the world and say to her in earnest, �and happy holidays to you, too.�