Stores and Floors...

I went to Target today to do some speedy shopping.  When I am on a mission, list in hand, I am intent on accomplishing the task at hand with few, if any obstacles and interruptions.  So when I pushed my stupidly oversized Target shopping cart around a corner into the next aisle and saw the kid lying on the floor blocking the aisle, I was put out.  And grossed out.  It slays me, the way some parents allow their little kids to loll around on a nasty store floor.

Last week while in the Rocky Mountains, I stopped by the Wal Mart in the little town.  I wanted to pick up a few groceries before heading back out to the house.  As I went down the bread aisle, I heard a plaintive voice exclaiming, "Oh, no!  OH, NO!  Can somebody please help me?!"

I looked around, and realized I was perhaps the closest (or only) shopper near this voice.  I followed the voice, which sounded like an elderly woman with (perhaps) an Eastern European accent.  I found the owner of the voice, and she looked like an elderly woman who might, perhaps, have an Eastern European accent.  And she was upset.  One of the lenses had fallen out of her glasses, and she could not see to recover it.  She became more and more agitated.  She kept repeating, "Oh, no!  OH, NO!  Can you please help me?  OH, NO!", and so on.  I asked her if she heard it fall.  Yes, she heard it hit the floor.  Where did she think she heard it fall?   Right...HERE!

I looked.

She looked.

Nothing.

"Are you SURE you heard it fall here?"

"Oh, no.  What am I going to do?!"

 "Are you SURE you heard it fall here?"

"Oh, no.  Oh, no..."

 "Are you SURE you heard it fall here?"

"What?"

"Are you SURE you heard it fall here?"

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?"

"Are you SURE you heard it fall here?"

And so on...

Finally, I did what I consider the unthinkable.  A cardinal sin.

I GOT DOWN ON MY HANDS AND KNEES IN A WAL MART STORE.  WHITE LINEN PANTS AND ALL.  (I hiked them up above my knees, though.  Yes, yes, I know, very attractive.)

I tell you what, I almost broke out in hives.  In fact, I think I did break out in mental hives.

Because  one does not loll around on a nasty store floor. (But I was not lolling, I was scrounging.)

Someone handed me a broom.  I am sorry, and I should not think I am above brooming out underneath Wal Mart store shelving, but it was just more than I could take.  I got up.  I walked silently (and frowning) to the front of the store and found the manager.  "There is an elderly woman in aisle 7 who needs assistance NOW."

We two walked back to aisle 7, and there was the poor worried woman, still exclaiing, "OH, NO!  WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?!!"   I left them there, the woman and the manager, and moved on to the next aisle.  And the next.  And then I heard an exclamation:  "I HAVE IT!"

And the elderly woman found the lens to her glasses: it had fallen into her outside purse pocket.  She thanked the manager, she walked over two aisles and thanked me, and she was off again.  Saints be praised!

So, back to that little kid in Target today?  GROSS.  GET OFF THAT FLOOR!!!!!

Because I know what I am talking about.  Yep.