03.06.06

3:07 a.m.

reason 5,440,234 why I hate wal-mart

I didnít trust my better judgment today, and I paid for it.

I wanted a new digital camera. Iíve wanted to start taking photos and learn more about photography since my first semester in school. I signed up for an intro to photography course, but I was waitlisted and never got into the class.

Anyway, I had finally settled on the Canon PowerShot A520. Itís nothing too fancy, but nice enough that I can learn on it. At least thatís what my best friend tells me, and I trust his judgment. (Judgment has no e in the middle, and itís really upsetting me that I keep spelling it judgement.) And for the record, just because I like asking questions doesnít mean Iím questioning you or your opinion.

Unfortunately EVERY damn store in town was sold out of this particular camera, and Iím impatient when I decide I want something. So, even though I was completely willing to pay $20 more not to have to resort to shopping at an evil, evil place; it didnít work. Iím a hypocrite for even calling them to see if they had the camera in stock, but it was a lapse in judgment.

I called several Wal-Mart stores, and only one store had the camera in stock. I told them to hold it, and Iíd be there in 15 minutes to pick it up.

Iíve done a lot of things in my life, but Iíve never regretted anything.

I regret that moment.

I drove the 20 miles to this particular Wal-Mart, and rushed straight in to the photo section to grab the camera and get out of there before any of the trashiness rubbed off on me. I get back there, and to my amazement, they had the camera sitting there waiting for me, and they were all very nice. I paid and made a beeline back out to my car.

Thank god, I opened the box in my car to see the camera. Um, except there wasnít a fucking camera in the box.

Immediately my heart started pounding and I felt light headed. It takes all my strength to venture into Wal-Mart at all, let alone in the middle of a Sunday with 20,000 other people there. I double checked the box again just to make sure it really wasnít there. It wasnít.

I grabbed the receipt and the camera and headed back into the store. The line at the customer service desk was so pathetically long that I stood in it for 15 seconds before I decided I couldnít handle standing there for another 45 minutes. I walked straight back to the photo department and spoke with a completely different cashier than was there 10 minutes earlier. The girl I dealt with was on lunch, and seeing as no one would believe that they couldíve sold me a $200 empty camera box, I had to argue with 3 different people Ė including the store manager.

I felt like a complete ass and every customer in the department was staring at me like I was a thief. Which is basically what the manager called me.

The girl came back from lunch (30 minutes later), and said she might have sold me the display box Ė she didnít check it before giving it to me because Ďit felt like there was a camera insideí.

Luckily, they decided that it mustíve been the scenario because, obviously, they couldnít find the display box.

I was given a very terse apology, a new box Ė including the camera, and sent on my way.

I havenít explored the camera yet. I promised myself that I couldnít do anything with it until my room was clean and organized and my calculus homework was done. Iíve accomplished neither, so it still sits in its box.

Itís calling me, but I canít break the promise I made to myself. Itís like an OCD ritual to me or something.

God, Iím so fucked up.

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