WHY I AM LOSING FAITH IN HUMANITY (AND WHY I SHOP AT AMAZON)
I ordered polaroid film from target to be picked up in the store a couple of weeks ago— I’ve dreaded making the trip to the plaza that is just minutes from me, but the burden of having to navigate my way to the store, then stand in line to pick up the order weighed on my mind more than it should have— but because amazon was just a hair too expensive, i’ll digress— I had to make the bloody trip to target.
I got a call Sunday morning that a few friends I played high school hockey with were playing a pick up game on the pond just a few minutes away. Instantly, I dug out my old hockey bag, grabbed my skates, and headed over to meet up with them. It occurred to me that I had broken a stick last time I played men’s league, so this journey required a stop at the corporate nightmare that is Dick’s Sporting Goods— the light bulb then went off. I could kill two birds with one stone— That polaroid film was finally coming home.
A quick stop at Dick’s for a trusty old CCM stick and some hockey tape and I’d be on my way. I checked out at Dick’s, but not without being taken aback by the cashiers name tag. If you’re not familiar with it, under every Dick’s name tag is that employees favorite sport— the most bizarre ones i’ve seen are dancing and water polo— not to say water polo isn’t a sport, I’ve just never met anybody who has played it. Dancing on the other hand— I’ll let you decide.
Anyways, Ethan, the eye-glass wearing, acne covered cashier boy’s name tag said “reading.”
I cracked a joke to him that he should be working next door— referring to the barnes and noble 100 yards away. With a blank stare, he let out a stern “What?”
“You know, Barnes and Noble, your passion is reading.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
Yeah, screw you too, man.
I leave Dick’s sporting goods to head on over to target— the order has been there for 10 days, so surely this will be a breeze. I walk into target and head straight to the customer service desk. I’m greeted by a decent line. I hop in line and begin to wait. Mind you, I am dressed like an absolute buffoon as I’m headed to play hockey directly after this. I keep looking at my watch as the line does not seem to move. I look up at the register, and this women has an industrial sized trash bag full of brand new children’s clothes that she wants to return. The girl behind the register, double masked and double gloved, steps back each time the woman places an item on the counter. The cashiers partner is one of those older women who go over every nook and cranny as she’s processing your return— she’s like an audio guidebook. The woman in front of me looks back at me and says:
“This is craziness— How could she be taking this long?”
I laughed. “I’m in no rush.” i said.
On the inside, I was itching to get out of there but I’m a patient dude. About ten minutes later, the woman whom i thought i befriended was up.
“Hello, I’d like to return this.”
The older cashier asked her if there was anything wrong with it.
“Well, I just didn’t like it.”
The cashier asked for her receipt, the woman then butted in—
“Well, I shouldn’t say I didn’t like it. I should say that it didn’t work as well as it should have. I read a bunch of reviews and I expected much more from it. You know, ON Amazon…”
I was then called by double mask, double gloves as she had just finished processing the homeless santa sack of clothing and she asked for my last name. She ran back, got my order, and told me to have a nice day. Meanwhile, the woman whom i thought became an ally in line continued to go on and on and on about this electric heat pack and how it didn’t meet her expectations as a lined 12 deep piled up behind us— absolutely naive to the hypocrisy of her eye rolls. I walked out thinking about how no matter where we are, Karens walk amongst us. Lurking in the shadows, camouflaging themselves, ready to slow down a line at any moment— It’s like fighting the vietcong in the jungles of Vietnam.
Anyways, the polaroid film was finally in hand and I reminded myself that the three dollars more it cost me on amazon was worth what felt like a three hour hell in person.
