Saturday, January 24, 2009

Sam's Club virgin

Didn't know there were any left - kinda restores my faith in all that is good, um, y'know? (Excuse that - Caroline Kennedy disease)

The other day, as I was leaving school, one of my co-workers stopped me in the hall and asked if I was a member of Sam's Club. When I told him I was, he asked if I was going to be in Cville in the next few days, specifically Sam's. Turns out, he's the faculty advisor for Student Council, and they are responsible for BBall concessions for the next month. He needed to buy junk food in bulk, and is not a member. I had a workshop in Lynchburg yesterday, and come right by Sam's on my way home. We made arrangements to meet at 4:30-ish out front. Good times.

As we walk in to the wonder that is Sam's Club, Glen starts ooohing and aaahing. It dawns on me that he's never set foot in a Sam's, or a Costco, or any discount price club. He has a list, but continually gets distracted by all the other things available. I have to educate him on Sam's etiquette: Yes, you can eat anything that the people in hats and aprons are offering you - if you really like something, you can go back many times; Piling on is allowed and encouraged - but you have to coordinate your shopping so the heaviest stuff is on the bottom; Yes, this is where I buy all my Expo Markers; and No, they won't give you bags when you check out.

What should have turned in to a pretty short trip (after all - he had a list!) becomes an hour-long ordeal. He reminded me of when I took my kids to Toys-R-Us for the first time. Sensory overload.

At checkout, the cashier (who, btw, had the worst Elvis pompadour toupee I've ever seen) tried to talk Glen in to a membership with all kinds of perks. I guess he thought I was Glen's wife {{shudder}} and wanted to upgrade us to the next level of card. Glen, of course, had no idea what he was talking about, and was about to agree out of politeness when I spoke up with a firm, "No, thank you." The guy looked at me with a 'shut up, bitch' glare, then gave Glen the 'I feel for you, bro - women are ball-busters, right?' pity eye.

The one thing I forget to tell Glen about Sam's beforehand was the procedure for leaving the store. He conscientiously put his receipt in his wallet (while I was engaged in a glaring match with the hair-challenged cashier), and started pushing the overloaded cart toward the exit. He was flummoxed by the line to get out of the store, and asked me if they were going to request that he remove his shoes. I realized his receipt wasn't in his hand, so told him he needed it out so the lady at the door could make sure he wasn't stealing something (like that jumbo box of Slim Jim's.) He fumbled around for the receipt, then expressed concern that all the lady did was give the cart a once-over (looking for the stolen iPod or flatscreen), then checked him off.

He was very impressed with the whole concept, and said he's coming back next weekend to get his very own membership card.

Hope it was good for you....

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