First, I must warn you: I have spent waaayyy too much time breaking up fights between my three girls and attempting to modify my blog template today (with limited success, as you can see). What I’m saying is, lower your expectations on this post, okeydokey? I’m sure I’ll return to my brilliant self very soon, regaling you with true tales from suburbia that will tickle your funny bone. Or at least some tidbit that provokes some thought you wouldn’t have otherwise had.
Again, lower your standards a little, now. OK. Ready?
Tonight I rented Snow Buddies from our local Redbox, which is located in the lobby-area of our neighborhood Wal-Mart. So, as usual, I park illegally, as I am simply running in to pick up my internet-reserved movie. It’s kind of fun to do this, actually; not only do I get my movie(s) quickly, I also get an amazing number of dirty looks from whomever is entering and exiting the store. There are days that getting a charge out of so easily annoying others feels like a soothing balm coating all the hackles that I’ve been forced to raise all day. In other words, it’s quite a cheap little thrill.
FYI, the best, the most intense of the frowning disapprovals come from the folks who are idling in their cars – illegally parked like me — near the entrance. The only difference between me and them is that I’m self-reliant enough to retrieve my own goods; apparently the angry scowlers have someone else to do their bidding. They’re lazy, and I get the dirty looks? Go figure.
Well, as big a fan as I have become of Redbox, tonight was quite disappointing. The couple ahead of me, a man and a son, it appeared, returned a DVD. Well, not really. They THOUGHT they returned a DVD, and so they ambled into the store to grab a cart. The gray-haired greeter with the thickest lensed glasses I have ever seen was pushing carts toward those who entered, but it was a somewhat pitiful gesture. Honestly, I think that dear old man must have been legally blind, but of course we all are happy to pay a few cents less for our Tide in order for The Legacy of Sam Walton to live long and prosperously. As we are all aware, the Walton philosophy of business is rooted in hiring those who cannot be hired anywhere else, so the Walton bean counters can get away with paying the huddled masses next to nothing. Seriously, this sweet man looked to be about two weeks away from an extended stay in a long-term care facility. [Like he could have afforded it. Right.] He was hunched over, but still smiling, and I sincerely have to admire that in a senior citizen.
Since I’m already off in left field, let’s play this through. As a stay-at-home-mom, I’m not actively contributing to any retirement fund for myself. And the way my girls have bickered and fought non-stop over the past three days, I’ll be lucky if they’re functional enough to support themselves in a decade or two. Hard to fathom them giving my wrinkly osteoporosis-afflicted little self a stipend. Yes, if Wal-Mart is still around in 25 years, I’ll probably be the one at the store entrance, wearing second-hand orthopedic shoes, hawking carts, and trying not to give in to my arthritis. Nothin’ like a good piece of irony to package up the negativity, huh?
So. Back to the DVD kiosk. The DVD supposedly returned by the couple ahead of me wasn’t actually accepted by the Redbox. The machine spat out the DVD like a petulant child spits out a bite of cooked beets: unapologetically and with fervor. (Apparently the great creator decided I hadn’t dealt with enough petulance today. I wish he’d have consulted me first, because I could have confidently assured him otherwise.) Nonetheless, the Redbox wasn’t satisfied with simply regurgitating its own. Nope, it decided to launch into a full-blown tantrum and completely stop functioning. I didn’t exactly get the Blue Screen of Death, but absolutely no part of the touch screen was working. And, there was a weird metallic grinding noise coming from its bionic Redbox bowels.
I am now officially backed into the proverbial corner. And I have to confess, I don’t do my best thinking in the outer lobby of Wal-Mart, amid the grime of the public and leaking bags of rock salt. Location and analytic ability aside, my choices as I see them are:
- Go home empty-handed and explain to three little girls, who KNEW I had already reserved the movie online (me and my big mouth — again!), and tell them “Sorry, my little chickadees, the big red machine froze, and no cute doggies wearing Santa caps and elf shoes will grace our flatscreen tonight”?
- Wander on over to Hollywood Video and see if they have a copy to rent at 5 times the price of the $1/movie Redbox? Keep in mind I’m still illegally parked.
- And then there’s the third option: go park legally for a change, trudge through the nippy 16 degree cold into the biting wind, and shell out the $20 for a copy of the movie of my very own.
So what do you think I did?
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