Walmart, I Apologize

A few weeks ago, I may have made a disparaging remark about you on Facebook. I didn't understand why your evil minions greeters constantly targeted me, a normal mom clearly out just grocery shopping with my adorable baby, and would not let me leave the store without looking at my receipt and rifling through my bags to make sure I wasn't robbing you. I mean, really, ME? In my disgust, I may have accused you of profiling mommies.

Normally I would just take my toys business and leave, never to return to your (let's face it, kinda skeezy) store in response to this kind of treatment. I would love to make Harris Teeter my sole grocery store. Ah, to dream of carts that glide easily (it's like shopping on glass!), free cookies and balloons for the kids, and helpful teenage boys begging me with their cracking voices for the privilege of loading my ridiculously-priced groceries in the back of my minivan ALL THE TIME. But, darn you, Walmart, your low, low prices draw me back over and over again.

So today I visited you once more, prepared to hand over my receipt and be frisked at the exit. Libby sat ensconced in the cart, which was carefully covered with her horribly ugly but effective cart cover. At one point during our shopping excursion I handed her a bottle of dressing to play with. (Pretty ghetto. It would be nice if you'd throw a balloon the kid's way once in a while.) We finished our shopping and paid for our groceries. In hindsight, I should have been suspicious of Libby's good cheer throughout the checkout process. And for ONCE, I was not harassed at the exit. Your bouncer greeter just waved goodbye to me and my groceries. What an unexpectedly lovely time we had with you, Walmart!

Here is where we come to the apology. After unloading the baby and the groceries at the car, I pulled Libby's cart cover off the cart. What do you know? Out tumbled a bottle of Zesty Italian dressing. And it was RED HOT because we did not pay for it. We just walked right out the doors with that $1.50 bottle of dressing hidden craftily in the cart cover. My precious, adorable, innocent-looking baby is a thief. Walmart, you knew. All those times you held me up at the doors...you knew. It was not I you suspected...it was Baby Face Nichols. And you were right. I was wrong.

Anyway, it was raining and cold. I won't lie. I had a little argument with God about the necessity of me dragging the baby back out into the rain to go give you your $1.50 for the dressing. I lost. Your employees were extremely nice to me about the whole thing and graciously took my money. (They probably felt sorry for me, being the mother of a hardened criminal and all.)

So, Walmart, profile away. Those babies will rob you blind if you don't keep tabs on them. And lately I've noticed Libby casing the yogurt aisle for that sweet-looking organic Greek stuff...I wouldn't put anything past her. See you next week, Walmart.