Yesterday at 9:00 in the evening, in a burst of epic stupidity, PittGirl and Sisters thought it would be a great idea to make a run to the Super Wal-Mart here in Destin to pick up a few supplies that the 24 people we’re vacationing with had already burned through. The mission was a kiddie pool, Propel water, regular water and soda. Easy enough. Let’s go.
The ten minute trip to Super Wal-Mart was spent discussing how it came about that Ohio Sister, the youngest, called shotgun, yet Ta-Ta, the oldest still managed to secure herself the front seat of Tina Fey’s SUV. We decided it was because as the oldest child, Ta-Ta ALWAYS got her way and ALWAYS got to be first, do first, have first, everything first and as the oldest, she does in fact consider herself supremely more entitled than us lesser beings. The phrase “Grand Poobah” may have been bandied about (I’m looking at you, PittGirl). As we pulled into the parking lot Ta-Ta sat with her arms defiantly crossed over her enormous breasts and declared her feelings “hurt” (this was met by a chorus of “boo-frickin’-hoooos”). It was then that we realized what a bad idea this was.
The parking lot was jammed. The store would be as well.
It didn’t take long with our expert teamwork led by the Grand Poobah (you, soda. you, kiddie pool. you, shark necklace. you, water and soda. GO GO POWER RANGERS AND BREAK!)
Twenty minutes later it was check out time and we chewed the cud while trying to decide which lane of cows we were going to wait in, like cattle in line to be branded by the menacing glare of the very tired Wal-Mart cashiers who had likely been staring at the shining sunburned glare of tourists’ faces all day. Luckily, we spotted a self check-out line with no one waiting after the two chicks who were currently swiping their groceries over the scanner doo-hickey.
I ran to grab some lip balm while the rest of the girls waited in line. It took me longer than expected and I was sure by the time I returned to the line, the Sisters would already have checked out and I would have to face the Poobah and receive my punishment for my incredible lack of haste when time, you see, it is of the essence. I’m sure the phrase “poor team player” would be used.
They hadn’t moved. They still stood behind those girls.
PG: You haven’t moved.
Ta-Ta the Grand Poobah: [eye roll and head gesture nodding toward the girls in front of us]
PG: What? What are they doing? [looks closer] ARE THEY PAYING THE SELF-CHECKOUT MACHINE WITH ONE DOLLAR BILLS?!?!
Tina Fey: They are.
PG: Seriously?!
Ohio Sister: Srsly.
We watched a bit longer and indeed. They were shoving dollar bill after dollar bill into the machine like they were loading an ATM machine up for the bank. I am not exaggerating when I tell you that it took them at least ten minutes just to pay for their food.
PG: Are we on Candid Camera?
Pens Fan: Bwah!
PG: MTV’s Boiling Points?!?
Tina Fey: You’re not going to win any money if we are.
PG: Hell no!
So we watched them feed the machine. One. Dollar. At. A. Time.
Tina Fey: If they run out of dollar bills and start up with quarters, I’ll lose it. Swear to God.
The blond chick turned around to us and said, “Boy. It used to be there was a time when you actually had a cashier scan your groceries and take your money.” Oh. Thank you for waxing nostalgic, as if we want to hear anything out of your mouth OTHER than why the hell you are using a stack of 75 ONE DOLLAR BILLS TO PAY THE SELF-CHECK OUT MACHINE.
And really, you probably think I’m making this up — this little situation where when it’s happening to you, you can’t quite believe what you’re seeing. Where you’re sure that finally, on this day, you’re on a reality show and any second now, a former boy-bander probably named Lachey is going to pop out behind the cash register and declare that America is watching you … and laughing at you.
Luckily for you, I took Saucy to the beach with me and she was much obliged to snap this photo while shaking her head all, “Girl. You want I can choke these stupid bitches for you.”
Calm down, Saucy. There is no need. Just take the picture. Here’s the photo she snapped on the tail end of their dollar bill feeding frenzy. So imagine how big of a stack of ones that originally was.
As we were leaving the store, Pens Fan turned to the four of us and declared, “I bet I know what they do for a living.”
What?
“Bow-chicka-bow.”
Oh, holla.
Also, Propel hurts like a mother when it shoots out of your nose.
But that’s a story for another time.
