I Could Have Been Shot...

Every once and a while I do something that, in retrospect, was probably a bad idea. As a bonus, occasionally, one of those feats is potentially hazardous to my life. Today, I did both. Ok, let's set the background.

Like every day it seems recently, today was a frustrating 10 hours of endless meetings and work. I really wasn't in the mood to go to WalMart but they had a sale on oil and I had some cars to fix so I made the trip. When I walked in, I should have turned around and walked out. They had one guy, let's call him "Manager Bob" (that was on his name tag), working the register in automotive. He was hunting and pecking at the computer complaining to the person on the phone that he was having trouble "operating the computer." Noticing the line, I headed back to grab oil only to find that, as usual, they were completely out of the grade I needed. I checked several end caps only to realize I was going to have to ask Bob about oil. After wasting 12 minutes of my life waiting in line to speak to Bob and listen to everyone else whine, I gave up and walked to the exit only to realize that I had to wait for him to operate the exit button. After a couple more minutes in pergatory, I was finally set free to go about my business.

I decided to head to Meijer across the street to pick up some pop and something for dinner. While I was there I decided to check out automotive where they too were having a sale on my oil. Again, wiped out. Wait... an end cap with oil... not my grade. Wait! Another end cap... not my oil... grrr. A center display! No OIL!!!! I happened to bump into 3 workers chatting in the next aisle over and asked them if they had any more oil. They did the quick "not it" and the loser went off into the warehouse. After about 6 minutes, he came back carrying a box. My smile quickly faded as he informed me that the only 5W-30 he found was not my product. I thanked him as I secretly cursed every oil and grocery company in the world and walked towards the food. I finished picking up my pop and headed to the self-checkout where I got to stare at several people who could not operate the computer. I finally made it to the terminal, checked out escaped just as my blood pressure normalized slightly under "stroke."

As I walked to my car, I saw some guy wad up some paper and chuck it out his window. (Insert pet peeve #102). He rolled up the dark tinted windows on his Durango with 22's as it began to thump from the bass. I walked over, picked up the paper and gestured, "I'll take care of this." I walked back to my car, put my groceries in, fired it up and threw it in reverse. Just then I noticed Thugmaster Flash and the rims behind me. He rolled down his passenger window. Seeing as I was blocked in, I figured I'd play. I left the car in reverse with the foot on the clutch. I rolled down my window and looked back to get the ever eloquent, "Wut you say man?" I replied, "I said, I'll take care of this for you." He said, "Wut?" To which I replied, "I said, I can throw this away for you. I know how to use a trash can." I'm guessing he didn't like that because I'm pretty sure I heard some F's as his window rolled up and the bass boomed again. It wasn't until then it dawned on me that maybe arguing with Crunkinem wasn't the smartest thing I'd done all day.

As I drove away thanking God that Fity-Tree Cent had pawned his gat for a set of Dub's I became curious and unwrapped the paper. What I saw made me lose even more faith in humanity. You see, I had picked up a receipt. That's right, me and my working friends who don't spend money on 22's had paid for the food stamps that bought his cheese dip and honey buns. Sad.