04.29.01
I was at Wal-Mart, wandering through their fine 'Greenhouse Plant Center'*, searching for potential plants to bring home and keep on my deck. My goal was to acquire a second flower box, the soil to fill both the old and new flower boxes, and a fat lot of red or pink geraniums to put in them. I also wasn't adverse to a few different herbs to put in terracotta pots -- preferably another rosemary, some golden sage, several kinds of thyme, and maybe an oregano -- and a hearty selection of impatiens in a color that would nicely complement the geraniums that I was going to buy.
I wasn't really finding what I wanted, beyond a lovely variety of thyme plants that I planned to pot up in a big urn. The only geraniums I found were in large, expensive hanging baskets. I saw a few potential impatiens, but without the geraniums to match them to, I was hesitant to load them in my cart. The girl that was watering the plants informed me that there was another selection of plants across the way, in the fenced area attached to the store, and I might have better luck finding what I wanted over there. The pots and flower boxes were inside this area too, so I would have had to make the trip anyways. I thanked her, wheeled my cart across the parking lot, and into the store's garden center.
My plan was to scope out what was inside, hopefully finding some lovely geraniums and a better selection of herbs, then take the plants back over to the 'center' to select some complementary impatiens. I also planned to get a couple of bags of potting soil, and then check out with the cashier inside.
I poked around a little, found some plants I liked, and started to wheel my cart back across the lot to the 'center' when an old man in a blue smock leapt out at me, blocking my egress.
"Have you paid for those?" he interrogated me mercilessly, pointing firmly at the contents of the cart.
"No, I was going to go back over the the 'plant center' and pick out a few more plants to go with these, and then get a couple of bags of soil before checking out." I explained.
"This cart can't leave this area."
"I brought this cart into this area from that area. This is already a foreign cart."
"It's the rules, Miss. If you take them out of here, you could make off with them without paying."
"Are you intimating that I intend to steal these plants? Hmm?"
"Uh, no, Miss. It's just the rules. You can leave the cart here and go back over there if you want. You can tell the girl how many bags of soil you want too, and then go get them."
"And what am I supposed to put my plants in over there?"
"Um, you can get another cart."
"Why do I need two carts when I already have one here?"
"It's the rules. Sorry."
"Fine. Can I at least take this plant over there so I can match some flowers to it?"
"No, Miss. Nothing can leave this area unpaid."
"Oh, really."
"Are you going to buy these plants?"
"I'm thinking no. I'm thinking that you can keep your fucking plants, because I'm going to K-Mart, where they have a nicer selection and don't treat their customers like shit. You just lost my business today. Moron."
When I related this story to the clerk at K-Mart who was checking my purchases**, he seemed perplexed. "Why couldn't you take the cart over to the garden center?"
My point exactly.
*Essentially, a large plastic tent in the middle of the store's parking lot, housing racks of sad-looking plants, wimpy trees and shrubs, and a fine assortment of soils, additives and mulch. This 'center' is normally not attached to the store, and depending on the store, may or may not have a cashier on hand. Most grocery stores also have these 'centers', as do some drug and discount stores.
***Approximately 2.5 bags more than what I actually required.
