Not so for me. I'm over the hauling a big behemoth up a flight of stairs. Needing a box spring or certain bed frame to fit my choice. Once I had an organic bamboo beauty that was super comfy, but it only lasted about eight years before it became a bit lumpy and low in the middle. At over eight hundred bucks, that averaged out to more than one hundred dollars a year.
Nowadays, I dream whilst resting upon an air mattress. There are some disadvantages to this arrangement, but overall I like my choice. It is light enough when inflated to shove around and put the sheets on easily. It is also light enough to deflate and put in the trunk of my car if I am staying somewhere that doesn't have a guest bed. Can you do that with your BeautyRest?
At less than a Ben Franklin for the upgraded model, I am pretty happy with this choice. But last week, I noticed that my bed wasn't keeping its air supply and I'd be on a pretty flat raft in the morning. My daughter, Natalina, and I tried in vain to find the offending prick hole, with no luck. I pushed - she listened. She pushed - I listened. No tell-tale hiss. Two mornings ago, I was literally in a taco upon arising and I thought - enough - time for a new bed.
Here's the unfortunate part of my choice. I didn't want to wait for an Amazon arrival. I needed a bed and I needed it now. And the only store with even a modicum of choice is the sad blue one that I avoid like the plague. In fact the last time I was at Wally-World was two years ago, in Longmont, buying a slightly cheaper version of the bed I was now coveting.
My daughter, Andrea Faith, tried to ease my pain by purchasing this new Intex Dura-Beam Dream Lux upgrade. She only needed to know three bits of information from me:
- Was this the bed I desired? Pillow-top and all? YES!
- Which location would I like to pick it up from later that day? HIGHLANDS RANCH.
- Credit Card #. (not giving that here!)
We went to see Sisters of Swing at the Town Hall Center in Littleton and I enjoyed the show knowing sweet dreams awaited me later that evening. We parted ways after Pho, and I braved C470 to head into Highlands Ranch. Sunday evening and the traffic was light heading east - one advantage of ski season being complete. Wal-Mart's location in the Ranch is a bit funky. It is the last business on a short road that dead ends. The irony is not lost on me.
This store has three entrances to choose from. Is that usual for the sad, blue store? I pick door #2 Monty. Not the Garden Center/Automotive entrance. Not the market or food or whatever they call the slop they sell entrance, but the middle door whose marquis eludes me at the moment.
My daughter tells me that she thinks the pick-up should be right up front, but I think that is not so. Any quasi savvy merchant knows that you don't encourage impulse sales by allowing people to run in and out. So I inferred that the counter I needed would be elsewhere - but where?
I decide to beeline to the back - no distractions for me. I am hustling past the greeting cards that are discounted, but still pricey (Dollar Tree anyone?) and what do I spy but a pile of poop on the floor. No shit. No, I mean yes, shit. It pretty much looks like dog shit that someone's cart has taken a wheel through, but hey, this is Wal-Mart. Could be human. Or childlike. My only thought as I am standing there is this; why did I leave my phone a/k/a camera in the car? This kind of shit needs to be catalogued. And cleaned up, I might add.
Ah, the wonderful, unique welcome only the blue store can provide. I shake my head, clear my nose and continue. There is no one around to ask, no signage, no direction as to which direction I should be headed. But I do pass the women's wear and my favorite retail words CLEARANCE beckon me to peruse a rack of marked down shirts. Let me clear up any delusions about my body. I need an XL in tees or tanks to clear my hips and there is quite the selection here for a gal my size. What I don't need are under arm hole openings big enough to push a party sized watermelon through! So I am already saving money by shopping here, because these shirts won't work for me.
I decide I need a snack after all this XL being too big for me. Nourishment or a treat is in order. And Wal-Mart sells a lot of food. In fact they garner something like 25% of all food sales in the US. I meander over to the food section of the store and after a bit of mindless wandering find a suitable snack at a decent price. Here I do find a helpful employee who directs me to the big orange banner in the back - so big he says - I cannot miss it - that says PICK-UP or some such directive.
I pass through craft supplies - who has time for that? - and shoes, and electronic devices and after pushing my fit-bit up to well past 10,000 steps I find the proper counter to procure my bed-in-a box. Only kidding, I don't wear a fit-bit. But if I did I'm pretty sure a couple of laps around the blue store would be all I need on a daily basis.
No one is home. Or should I say no one is at work here. Empty help-desk. I can see my purchase on the back counter and ponder just jumping over and grabbing it. Or maybe walking through the opening between the counters and snagging it. But I am nothing if not obedient, so I ring the little bell that has an encouraging sign about someone coming right away. Or soon. Or in plenty of time for me to use the ladies room that is right behind me and still get in some good old fashioned, toe-tapping waiting time.
Jared arrives! It could only be Jared (insert musical notes here) and he is a gem. He puts my air bed in my cart, apologizes for the lengthy wait, regales me with a story of how he used to work nights, and now he's on days, and his clock is messed up, and he was in the back and I think - Dude was taking a nap!!
He then proceeds to take a super long time struggling with some little hand-held gizmo that is supposed to print a ticket that will allow me to leave the store and not be suspiciously eyed as a
shop- lifter. But he can't get the dang thing to work, and time is really ticking. And I'm sure I'd like to go home and pump up my bed as much as Jared would like to resume his own back of the store slumber.
While I am looking for things to look at while he sweats and swears, I spy an employee coming out of the men's room right behind me. And though it takes a moment for my brain to register why something isn't quite right, I am a good sanitation detective and figure it out. This employee, who I learn from Jared works in the Deli Department, had his food service gloves on exiting the men's room. Yuck! This can only mean two things; One- he did not wash his hands, because who washes their hands with gloves on? And two - I am never buying anything from the deli in Wal-Mart.
Now that I am completely grossed out and Jared is fatigued from wrestling with his company provided hand-held, I am told to just go up front and tell them Jared said it is cool for me to exit the store without interrogation.
On my way out of the store I see the assistant store manager and relay my frustration and disgust at my once a year if not less foray to Wal-Mart. She is not in the least bit concerned about pets who aren't housebroken, malfunctioning equipment or potential e-coli epidemics. At first I was miffed, but in retrospect I am in awe. She has learned to stay cool in the blue store. I am not sure I'll ever be able to do that.
Time to Write,
Jane
PS - Next time I'm buying on-line!
This store has three entrances to choose from. Is that usual for the sad, blue store? I pick door #2 Monty. Not the Garden Center/Automotive entrance. Not the market or food or whatever they call the slop they sell entrance, but the middle door whose marquis eludes me at the moment.
My daughter tells me that she thinks the pick-up should be right up front, but I think that is not so. Any quasi savvy merchant knows that you don't encourage impulse sales by allowing people to run in and out. So I inferred that the counter I needed would be elsewhere - but where?
I decide to beeline to the back - no distractions for me. I am hustling past the greeting cards that are discounted, but still pricey (Dollar Tree anyone?) and what do I spy but a pile of poop on the floor. No shit. No, I mean yes, shit. It pretty much looks like dog shit that someone's cart has taken a wheel through, but hey, this is Wal-Mart. Could be human. Or childlike. My only thought as I am standing there is this; why did I leave my phone a/k/a camera in the car? This kind of shit needs to be catalogued. And cleaned up, I might add.
Ah, the wonderful, unique welcome only the blue store can provide. I shake my head, clear my nose and continue. There is no one around to ask, no signage, no direction as to which direction I should be headed. But I do pass the women's wear and my favorite retail words CLEARANCE beckon me to peruse a rack of marked down shirts. Let me clear up any delusions about my body. I need an XL in tees or tanks to clear my hips and there is quite the selection here for a gal my size. What I don't need are under arm hole openings big enough to push a party sized watermelon through! So I am already saving money by shopping here, because these shirts won't work for me.
I decide I need a snack after all this XL being too big for me. Nourishment or a treat is in order. And Wal-Mart sells a lot of food. In fact they garner something like 25% of all food sales in the US. I meander over to the food section of the store and after a bit of mindless wandering find a suitable snack at a decent price. Here I do find a helpful employee who directs me to the big orange banner in the back - so big he says - I cannot miss it - that says PICK-UP or some such directive.
I pass through craft supplies - who has time for that? - and shoes, and electronic devices and after pushing my fit-bit up to well past 10,000 steps I find the proper counter to procure my bed-in-a box. Only kidding, I don't wear a fit-bit. But if I did I'm pretty sure a couple of laps around the blue store would be all I need on a daily basis.
No one is home. Or should I say no one is at work here. Empty help-desk. I can see my purchase on the back counter and ponder just jumping over and grabbing it. Or maybe walking through the opening between the counters and snagging it. But I am nothing if not obedient, so I ring the little bell that has an encouraging sign about someone coming right away. Or soon. Or in plenty of time for me to use the ladies room that is right behind me and still get in some good old fashioned, toe-tapping waiting time.
Jared arrives! It could only be Jared (insert musical notes here) and he is a gem. He puts my air bed in my cart, apologizes for the lengthy wait, regales me with a story of how he used to work nights, and now he's on days, and his clock is messed up, and he was in the back and I think - Dude was taking a nap!!
He then proceeds to take a super long time struggling with some little hand-held gizmo that is supposed to print a ticket that will allow me to leave the store and not be suspiciously eyed as a
shop- lifter. But he can't get the dang thing to work, and time is really ticking. And I'm sure I'd like to go home and pump up my bed as much as Jared would like to resume his own back of the store slumber.
While I am looking for things to look at while he sweats and swears, I spy an employee coming out of the men's room right behind me. And though it takes a moment for my brain to register why something isn't quite right, I am a good sanitation detective and figure it out. This employee, who I learn from Jared works in the Deli Department, had his food service gloves on exiting the men's room. Yuck! This can only mean two things; One- he did not wash his hands, because who washes their hands with gloves on? And two - I am never buying anything from the deli in Wal-Mart.
Now that I am completely grossed out and Jared is fatigued from wrestling with his company provided hand-held, I am told to just go up front and tell them Jared said it is cool for me to exit the store without interrogation.
On my way out of the store I see the assistant store manager and relay my frustration and disgust at my once a year if not less foray to Wal-Mart. She is not in the least bit concerned about pets who aren't housebroken, malfunctioning equipment or potential e-coli epidemics. At first I was miffed, but in retrospect I am in awe. She has learned to stay cool in the blue store. I am not sure I'll ever be able to do that.
Time to Write,
Jane
PS - Next time I'm buying on-line!
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