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David Glass: If you find the tube socks, make sure to let us know
, News Editor
07-15-2010
My heart goes out to the people of Ray County, the Walmart faithful with befuddled looks on their faces.
Once proud and competent, you’ve been reduced to wandering aimlessly around the store, thinking you knew where the tube socks were – only to find they’ve vanished.
You’re worried that maybe you’ve come down with Alzheimer’s. I share your pain.
I used to know where the rechargeable batteries were. I used to know that the Clif Bar Crunchy Peanut Butter Bars I keep in my desk were to my right, near the door; that the the kitty litter was a couple of aisles over and three aisles down, the Sam’s Cola Zero in the back, to the left, the Great Value pretzel sticks just a few rows down and the black bean and corn salsa over there, same row as the jalapenos.
Personally, I could make my rounds in 10 minutes – in my sleep or a midday stupor. It was reassuring to know where things were – a place for everything, and for everything a place.
I thought I was an efficient shopper, but then the higher-up at Walmart, some Arkansan with nothing better to do, caught the remodeling bug. Now I can’t find anything.
Yesterday I spent 45 minutes looking for three items and nearly wore out a new pair of shoes. I try to make the best of a bad situation, so I told myself I needed the exercise.
I don’t know about you, but I’ve considered dropping bread crumbs, just so I can find my way out. But then I worry that someone down at headquarters will go and move the entrance, rearrange the doors and relocate the shopping carts in the electronics department.
There’s nothing much we can do until they get things straightened out. We’ve been through the drill with roadwork, boil orders and those shenanigans at city hall, so we buck up, bite the bullet and stiffen our upper lips.
And complain.
We all know we’ve been through worse – Bloody Bill Anderson, the Depression, World War II. We just have to dig down.
Don’t misunderstand me, I’m a big fan of our Walmart. I’ve told more than one person that the local store is brighter and cleaner than the one I get involuntarily sucked into near Liberty. When I go into that store, it’s like being on a SWAT team and breaking down the door of meth lab. “I’m going in,” I tell myself, 9mm semi-automatic clutched in two hands, pointed skyward.
I take a deep breath, thinking maybe it’s my last. When I shop there, I feel obligated to wear black.
It’s different here. The clientele at our store doesn’t look like it was dredged out of a swamp in the backwoods of Buganotches, Louisiana, or pulled from the set of “Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island.”
The other Walmart’s remodeling, too, so you can imagine the chaos with all those lost shoppers in their electric carts flying up and down the aisles looking for the foam can insulators and Q-tips.
I only hope their oxygen tanks hold out.
If you think you’ve got it bad, what about those poor associates at our store? The workers there are as nice as can be, but when I asked a cashier where something was, she scratched her head, got this faraway look and said, “I was going to ask you.”
There’s a rhyme and a reason to what’s happening at the store, so I figure it’s time to be patient and tap that reserve of faith we save for special occasions.
Think of “Lost at Walmart” as simple disorientation, the kind Lewis and Clark must’ve felt when they were in the sun too long, got turned around and thought one tree looked just like another.
And those guys are famous.
The Walmart chain is hugely successful, but you have to wonder about its track record in reorganization.
CEO David Glass has tinkered with the Royals for years and years, gone with youth, gone with veterans and changed managers faster than you can say “Save Money. Live Better.” But the team is still mired in the wilderness, lost and searching for the Promised Land.
Just like us. Maybe they know where the tube socks are.
You can contact David Knopf at editor@richmond-dailynews.com.
