The Wal

So, I went to "The Wal" yesterday. Dane Cook fans will know. In fact, I'm gonna tell you the end of the story first. Then I'm gonna Tarantino it and start from the beginning.

So here it is.

"I just wanna shoot them in the face."

And BAM!
We're back at the beginning.

So, I go to the Wal, others might know it as Walgreens. And right as I walk in, out of my "perif", I spot the exact place that I need to go. However, for some reason, I decided to take a little stroll through the store. It's just way more exciting to walk in very long strides around the store, going up every isle, turning and tilting my head and muttering things to myself. It feels very Jack-Bauer-esq. So finally I make it around to where my products are. In this case, it was some deodorant and shaving cream. So I went up to the counter to pay for my merch and this cute girl greeted me and I replied with a greeting.

Then I pull out the card.

Now, many business establishments have different methods for running cards. At some stores, the cashier runs your card through for you. Others use the carbon paper stamp thing that bends the shit out of your card. But most places have the "self-service" card maching if you will.
The general method is to first slide your card down the slit, then select credit/debit, and generally select "yes" or "OK" to verify the amount of purchase.

I slide the card. Immediately I come to a decision that I've made many a time. Credit...or Debit? It could have been the heat, it could have been the gaze from the attractive cashier, it could have been the egg salad sandwich I had eaten prior to making the journey to the walgreens, but I CRUMBLED under the pressure. I closed my eyes and picked one at random. I immediately realized my mistake, but I had already committed. I then pushed a completely random combination of buttons that led me to the "enter-your-pin" screen. Through the confusion I said the words I never in my life would have imagined me saying, and I wanted to be sick. I said...."god, all these machines are different."

The feeling of remorse and self hatred fuming from me was palpable. In fact, I heard the lady behind me smack her lips and say "that is palpable, that man is really pissed at himself"

I began to explain to the cashier the full extent of my anger.

I used to work at a grocery store as a cashier. For 2 years, every day, every hour, every minute, I would have a customer come through and say "all these machine are different". And each time I heard it, a part of me died. Its the part of me that stops myself from reaching over the counter and grabbing the customer by their big fat head, and breaking their neck.

Anyway, to wrap it up. I told the clerk about my past, and then "I just wanna shoot them in the face"

I told a complete stranger that I wanted to discharge a fire arm in the direction of someones cranium.

Needless to say, I probably won't be getting a second date.

Or a first for that matter.

Good game me.