I've told many anecdotes on my Myspace blog regarding my local Walmart, a.k.a. ("the Deathstar) (which I believe was one of the first terms ex-friend Bob stole from me, but moving on) but this one here is a doozy. It not only takes the cake, it takes the ice cream and the birthday hats that go along with it.
It was Friday, so I had the day off and spent the morning doing mildly productive things like working from home and catching up on Perez Hilton. Brian took the afternoon off because he's been needing new tires on the truck and there was no way that was happening today (Saturday) because the Carolina Gameocks play at 2:00, nor tomorrow (Sunday) which is the weekly Day at His Parents' house for Lunch that Lasts Three Hours. So. I'd called around doing some comparisons on prices and installations and found the 'Mart had the best deal. Okay, great. We had a few things we needed to pick up anyway, it's practically across the street from our neighborhood which is the main factor in why I keep going there even though it's never ever a good experience.
Off we went.
We arrived a little after 2 p.m. We left the truck in the capable hands of the automotive department around 2:15 and they told us they'd page us when it was ready. Great! Off to look around and shop. It's not often we're in there together, since he so generously leaves the grocery shopping detail almost entirely to me, so the novelty of being together there was fun. At first.
After about forty-five minutes, we were done with our purchases and went back to the tire place, figuring they had to be close to being done. They hadn't paged us mind you, but since no one was in line in front of us, forty-five minutes to an hour should've been adequate time to take off and replace tires. No. The truck was still in the same spot and it didn't appear anything had been done to it. We put our bags inside the truck (luckily we hadn't bought any food) and stood outside the garage area smoking and sort of watching the crew. They seemed to be busy, but doing what, I'm not sure.
I won't put you through the agony how how we spent the next TWO AND A HALF HOURS, but when we left there, it was 5:30. So. A little over three hours to get tires replaced. Maybe it was the fact Brian added windshield wiper replacement to the order as well? That may have been it. All I know is Grace and I have put in some marathon Walmart sessions, but I have never, EVER spent that long a period of time in that store. I'm not sure I'll ever fully recover. The upside: I now know what every single thing in there costs.
The is one more part to this story. Later that evening we were driving down the interstate on our way to Kelly's party. All of a sudden Brian sort of freaks out and pulls off onto the shoulder, scaring the shit out of me, all "What the hell?" Apparently the rocket scientists down at the FOREST DRIVE, COLUMBIA, SOUTH CAROLINA WALMART AUTOMOTIVE DEPARTMENT had popped the hood for whatever reason then neglected to shut it correctly. We didn't notice on our short drive home, but going 70 down the interstate and seeing it come loose, with visions of Tommy Boy and it flying up, shattering the windshield and most likely killing us - well, I believe my husband might have gotten his first gray hair last night.
I'm trying to look on the bright side. The truck has new tires (which are hopefully securely attached; he's going to check that this morning), I have some of the items crossed off my stuff I needed to buy list and we got to spend some quality time together.
This is what I get for being a cheap Jew. Next time we'll pay the extra hundred bucks and go to Firestone.