Saturday, September 14, 2013

Anything that can go wrong, Ill find it.

Murphy's Law should in all honesty be renamed 'Sherlin's Law'. 

Anything bad, wrong, and utterly absurd that can happen...WILL happen. To me. 

I mean really, WHO else calls 911 and gets put on hold? Twice. For 10 minutes. 
Thank you kindly for the elevator music Emergency Response Team, but Im sure that my pending death will not be delayed due to your 'busy operators'. 

And who's brilliant idea was it to leave last years school calendar up on the school website? More over, what luck that LAST years first day of school is the same date as THIS years 2nd day of school. 
Passing by the school: "Huh...look at that Iris theres kids OMG THERES KIDS GOING TO SCHOOL!!!"
The poor kid has probably never had a quicker onset of first-day jitters. 

Then there are days like today. 

You ever gone to Target and gotten stuck there? I don't mean "oh look theres a sale!" stuck. 
I mean "Fuck. The scooter just died." stuck.

As you all know (because I am the sun and the world as well as all universes revolve around me), Im on crutches still. Though it breaks my prideful heart into a zillion pieces all taped back together with clearance price tags...I use a motorized scooter when ever I go shopping. 
So far today I had grabbed brunch at a little spot I've been aching to go to for months, found 2 pairs of shoes for work that I love, and got a super cute haircut from a stylist I have never used before. Naturally I thought I was invincible so I went to Target for "bread" (yeah. Like everyone ever goes there for JUST a necessity).

I hopped into a little motorized cart, shoved my crutches in with me, and got my Tar-jay (thats fancy for Target) on.

ZOOM! through the Mossimo t shirts!
ZOOM! through the Shabby Chic bedding!
ZOOM! through the chocolate aisle!
Oh look, bread.

zzooomm... through the coffee aisle...


And thats when I ran into a mute foreigner that neither understood that my cart was dead and I wasnt purposely going slow enough to read all the nutritional values on every single box of Archer Farms holy-goodness and thus impeding him from continuing his shopping, nor did he have the ability to tell me to fuck off in what ever language he spoke. He did, however, use some sort of sign language. Sorry bud, I only know American Sign Language and Rude Fingers.

By the next aisle, there was no juice what so ever left in my little cart. Faced with a full cart, crutches and the farthest corner of the store with no associate in sight, I did what any other crushed soul in need of help would do:

I called Target. 

From inside Target.

"Ma'am, where are you located?"

"In....the chip aisle...."

So while I waited to hear the replacement cart hurtling towards me at an astounding .02 miles per hour to save me from the crutches of a dead battery, I grabbed a bag of chips. 

You know. To thank them. For their hospitality. And company. 

Alas, the replacement cart finally arrived and I was able to transfer all my 'bread' to the new zippy cart while the security officer stood by stoically and slightly annoyed. Hobbling between the carts I was pretty mortified and simply wanted to get the fuck out of dodge. 

So how does one scurry away in horror? Heres a hint: Dont' back up.


Yea I totally did that under the radar of any deaf person in a 50 mile radius. 

To make matters worse, I could hear the security officer dragging the troublesome cart across the waxed linoleum floors screeching wildly at its demise no doubt in route to Charging Jail. 

As I checked out I had to see it watching me from the other side of the glass doors, chained to the wall plug, blinking red with loss of charge. 

As far as situations go, that was mild. As far as thinking ahead....I bombed. 

If I had a customer service desk in my house it would go a little like this:

"Ma'am, where are you located?"

"In the parking lot...with bags I cant carry upstairs"

No comments:

Post a Comment