National Holidays & Altercations at Super Wal-Mart

I should begin by wishing all my fellow Canadians the Happiest of Canada Days!  Mine was quite unpatriotic.  We spent a good part of the day getting ready to go camping tomorrow and then saw Transformers 3.  In 3-D.  I add that only because it was the first time I'd done so and I liked it.

Part of our camping preparation included a trip to Super Wal-Mart in Regina after dropping off our daughter.  She has chosen to instead camp with her best friend and said best friend's family rather than her own. She's 14. 

Anyway, off we went.  Shopped and shopped and by the time we were done, both my caffeine and patience had worn off.  I was unloading the cart and my boys asked me if they could go look at the games.  You know, those godforsaken sort of mini-arcade games that you could likely feed $100 to in 10 minutes and still not get a crappy stuffed animal?  Those ones.  They just wanted to look and since it was right within my line of vision, I let them.  My husband and I continued unloading.  They continued playing and at one point asked me for money with which to play the game.  I said no.

Next time I looked up, the fucking Crypt Keeper (elderly female Greeter) was speaking sternly to my boys.  At this point I feel I may have resembled a predator who catches the scent of it's prey.  Dramatic?  Yes, but I generally come off as very unapproachable unless I make a conscious effort not to (read: I look bitchy ALL of the time; mostly because I am).  Then the boys returned to our check out and Reese, my 7 year old, was flushed and trying very hard not to cry.

What. The. Fuck.

For the record (what record, I'm not sure), they were simply pretending to play the game.  They were not 'reefing' on the stupid joystick and the goddamn game was out of order anyway.  Reese kept telling us that he didn't see the 'Out of Order' sign.  We told him that he had done nothing wrong.This is important for later.

Ryan and I begin to discuss this old bitch's fate while we finished checking out.  Find a manager?  At this point I'd had my fill of people.  Oh wait, new detail: Reese tells Ryan that the old bitch grabbed him by the wrist when she approached them.  Really?! REALLY?!  What is it about MY children that makes people think it is okay to physically discipline them in any way whatsoever?  Yes, this was only one woman. I am not at liberty to discuss any and all previous incident(s).

This explains the near tears.  He's a sensitive boy but had she just said: "Please don't touch", and left it at that, I doubt he would've looked quite as stricken.

So, we took our boys and made our way to the doors.  Myself, 5'7", of formidable size and looking motherfucking pissed off, followed by my 6'4" 250 lb+ husband, appearing equally pissed off.  I walk faster than my spouse on any given day, and I was mad, and his ankle was sore, and he was pushing the cart, so he was more than a few steps behind. 

I beelined for her.  Ryan said he watched her see me and attempt to avoid.  Um, guess what Grandma, you have nowhere to go.  Stay at the fucking door and greet me.  Once confronted, one of us on each side, she kept repeating: "The machine is broken".  My husband replied: "How are they going to make it any more broken?"  He was like a machine. This makes him infuriating to argue with but is super when watching him apply his tactics to others.  I shared it was 'unnecessary' to touch my child EVER.  She denied it.  Um, no.  He has no fucking reason to lie and is about as good as hiding his emotions as I am and is a bad liar to boot.  HE WAS NOT LYING AND NOW YOU SHALL BURN IN YOU KNOW WHERE AND BY THE THE LOOKS OF YOU, IT WON'T BE LONG.

I walked away, Ryan shared a few more words with her and we left.

We don't spank our children.  I did spank my two oldest ones and I regret it.  I am older now and more empathetic and do not see how hitting them is going to get any sort of message across about behaviour.  Now this old 'see you next Tuesday' does not know this but given she doesn't know my children and is an employee?  Hands-the-fuck-off.  I am contemplating writing a strongly worded letter.

The rational side of me has only this to say in her defense: She should be retired. She was for real old and her out-of-the-box red hair is not hiding that in any way, shape or form.  Must suck, at her age, to have to be a Wal-Mart greeter.  That being said, if dealing with the public isn't your "thing", go the fuck home or get a different job.

Then the real me takes over and wishes I would've went off on her a little harder.

I recognize this does not paint me in a favourable light but if you haven't figured out by now that I'm mean, I can't help you.  Mean and protective of things that are mine. 

In hindsight, she's lucky I didn't drop her.

Happy Canada Day!