One day, while I was babysitting my 5 year old niece, my brother calls me and asks if I will run to Wal-Mart for him and get groceries. I agreed.
While my niece and I were in the store, she started acting up; talking back, not listening, running off, etc. So, like her parents would, I gave her a little swat on the bottom to make her pay attention to what I was saying. Not a hard swat, just a little tap to make her turn around and look at me. I told her to settle down and behave or else. She pouted at me a little bit but she settled down.
I looked up and saw a lady fresh out of the trailer park staring me down. I figured she had a problem with what I had just done but would not confront me about it. I was wrong. As my niece and I were leaving the aisle she grabbed my cart and said, “I should call the police and tell them what you did.”
I just gapped at Mrs. Trailer Trash as she launched into this elaborate story about how her dad spanked her as a child. She went on to say that because her dad “abused” her so, she’d had serious trouble in school, with the law, and practically every aspect of her life. As she’s describing her woes (crimes) in great detail my niece says, “It sounds like your dad didn’t spank you enough!”
As I was walking into Walmart, there was a relatively normal looking group standing just outside the front doors, at the red “don’t drive into Walmart” poles. there were three normal looking adults, one child, about ten years old. The child started to run into the parking lot driving lane. The mother proceeds to shout, “If you don’t stop running out in the parking lot I’m gonna push you in front of a car.”
That’ll teach him.
At the moment, I am working at a Subway inside of a Walmart.
I had a customer come in one day and everything started out smoothly. This lady had been coming in for quite some time, so I kind of recognized her. She’s your typical Walmart customer. Overweight, looking like trailer trash and riding (as we call them in our store) a fat cart. She orders a footlong tuna sandwich and wants us to put all the veggies on it. So, like I said, everything was going smooth until after the veggies were placed on the sandwich. That’s when she said to me, “This may be a strange request.” At this point, I’m thinking that I’ve heard many a people say that, and it’s never really that strange. So, I ask her what she wants and she proceeded to ask me to put 4 white macadamia nut cookies on her tuna sandwich. I think I gave her a really disgusted look, but I’m not sure. I obliged and placed the cookies on her sandwich, but she wasn’t done yet. She then asked me to cover the cookies with vinegar until they were soggy and ready to fall apart. Then to top it off, she made me double up on the mayo over the soggy cookies. At this point, I felt like I wanted to puke all over her sandwich. I think I may have a little into the back of my throat.
This lady is now a regular customer and she gets this same thing every single day.
Three years ago I was heavily pregant with my first child. As the due date grew closer I decided to venture to the local Wal-Mart in Goose Creek, SC to purchase a few needed items. Naturally I went straight to the infant section, scanning through the bottles and bibs trying to decide what to purchase a group of women came near me. Normally I would not list ages, but I would guess these women were in their mid to late 20’s. Giggling like school girls who had their first crush they all paused to look at my rather large belly. I’m a short 5’4″ and looked as if I would topple over at any minute. Not trying to be rude I offered them a polite smile and continued my shopping, whistling to myself even. Nothing could prepare me for what happened next, and I do mean nothing. Suddenly two of the four women apporached me, offering their congratulations and asking the usual questions about due dates and boy or girl things. Again not wanting to be rude I answered them. At this moment the other two women appeared at their side with a measuring tape and a fit of giggles. I looked on in horror as they attempted to measure the size of my belly, and ‘ooh and ah’ while doing so. Next, one of them reached out to pat me, and even squeezed what they could of my stomach and asked once again when I was due. By this point I had reached my limit and replied by reaching out for her belly (I’ll add now that she was a rather thick woman) rubbing it back, asking “I’m more interested in your due date. Perhaps you’re having twins?” I smiled. She glared and stomped off but not before swearing at me, saying how rude it was to touch her and declared she wasnt pregnant. However, I did manage to respond and loud enough for several customers to hear “Oh, I’m sorry I was under the impression that pregnant women were free for all to touch their bellies” Proud of myself I turned back to my shopping, but not before I heard a few claps and “You go girls!”