PTWD–Post Traumatic Walmart Disorder

“Hello, Doctor? It’s me, Nota.”

“It happened again today. I needed some light bulbs at low, low, everyday prices.”

“I meant to go to the grocery store later, but on the way to my Chinese Mother lessons this morning I saw the big blue sign on the horizon. I thought ‘this time, it will be different.'”

“It wasn’t, Doctor. It was as bad as ever. The cart handle was sticky and one of the wheels spun around like the little girl’s head in The Exorcist. Roll, roll, roll, clump.”

“I was rounding the produce section into the frozen foods and this old lady jammed me with her cart. I think she saw me and sped up.”

“She was coming back for a shot at my poop deck, so I scurried on to the canned soup aisle. I swear those cans are smaller than the same thing at my grocery store. But, hey, it’s three cents cheaper!”

“So I picked up a case or two of Cream of Possum and went on to the meat department. The prices were great and the meat only had fifteen percent added water. Cheeseburger casserole for dinner. It’s that Paula Deen recipe with only two sticks of butter. Yes, from her diet cookbook.”

“I picked up four new tires, a gallon of salsa and a bra-strap extender.”

“I tried to get my ointment prescription filled, but my experimental stretch mark cream is apparently only available by mail order from Kazakhstan or through Gwyneth Paltrow’s blog.”

“After the pharmacy, I had to go to the ladies’ room.”

“Yes, I hovered. Yes, I closed my eyes and focused on imagining myself in my happy place far, far away. Yes, I flushed with my foot.”

“By then it was dark outside, so I got in the shortest checkout line. Of course, once someone else was in line behind me and I was trapped, the cashier needed a price check on something for the person ahead of me. They seem to have outsourced price checks to China.”

“Then the register ran out of tape. And the customer ahead of me paid in change. And Confederate money.”

“I thought I was home free once I was checked out, but as I was making my way to the exit (roll, roll, roll, clump) something in my cart set off the detectors at the door. That employee must have been trained by the TSA. There was less contact at my last mammogram.”

“As soon as I got home I knew I had to call you, Doctor.”

“Why am I calling? Can I get some Xanax? I forgot the light bulbs and I need to go back!”

Just bill my insurance,

Edited to add: two of my friends wrote response posts to this one.
Faith at The Hayes Zoo goes in to a Walmart for socks and undies and comes out with a perm.
The [email protected] on the Move tells about what Walmart shopping is like after you’ve lived in Brazil.

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