I have a secret. I like Walmart.
In my cultural environment, that would elicit a sneer, like if I admitted “I eat gum that’s
stuck to my foot.”
I live in a Nordstrom – or at least Target – shopping realm. The nearest Walmart is 22
minutes away from my house – I clocked it – but even further away in the list of
shopping establishments that are considered desirable.
I haven’t decided if that’s because of its merchandise or the impression of people who
shop there. There are websites (“People of Walmart” comes to mind) and countless
memes dedicated to the “type” of person who shops there: usually chubby, poorly
dressed and who sometimes look like they just arrived from jail with a roll of quarters in
their drooping sweatpants pockets. In a word, classless.
Then I’m de classe. It's Walmart’s low prices and vast array of merchandise that attracts people. Who can dispute low costs? I can get summer yoga tee-shirts and fall cardigans
there for a song.
This time of year, however, I make my seasonal trip to Walmart because nowhere – I
repeat nowhere – has the array of holiday attire that, how can I say it, exudes holiday
personality like a Hallmark Christmas movie. I’m specifically talking about festive (or
“ugly”) holiday sweaters in, a fashion fetish of mine.
My collection has grown so large throughout the years we have to store them in a box in
the garage with the rest of the Christmas decorations. I have so many I’m almost an
advent calendar, one for every day of December leading up to Christmas.
On a side note, Walmart had a very limited quantity of Hanukkah and Kwanzaa attire.
But that’s Walmart for you.
Recently I made my annual festive sweater excursion to Walmart. I had come directly
from Kaiser, where I had had a depressing dermatology appointment for some
troublesome issues on my face and back. I felt uplifted by the greeter who grinned at
me and offered if he could point me to anything in particular. I felt even happier when I
saw the sparkling racks of holiday sweaters on display behind him.
After browsing the merch and finally deciding on this year’s model, I couldn’t help but
notice the friendly smiles of the associates, asking if I needed anything. The loudspeaker called out congratulations to store employees who had made a good sale or done something else worth noting. I even had to dodge a store isle sweeper a couple
of times.
When I left Walmart with my $20 treasure, I stopped to talk to two veterans with a
donation box for the Veterans of Foreign Wars. We talked about my son-in-law’s recent
deployment, and they commiserated with me on how hard it was for families left behind.
They expressed their relief at his safe return and thanked me for his service. I, in turn,
thanked them for theirs’ and fished a dollar out of my sweatpants pocket to donate. I
headed to my car.
As I was settling into my car seat, feeling good about the world, I accidently glanced in
my rearview mirror and saw it: A big #2 with a dotted circle on my cheek. It looked like a
fricken’ face tattoo! It was, of course, an identification of a suspicious spot on my face
my doctor had drawn, but Miss Brilliant here had forgotten to wash it off. I had been
waltzing around Walmart, talking and smiling, looking like I had just been released from
the clink!
It's nice to know, however, that if that had been the case, there is a place where I can
shop and, despite being looked down upon by many who avoid Walmart, can be
greeted and treated in a kindly manner.
I’m fortunate I get to choose where I shop this holiday season – from Nordy’s to
Walmart. For many people in our world these days shopping at Walmart is a special
treat -- no matter what you buy, and whenever the season.
Still, keep an eye out for me on “People of Walmart.”
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