It’s been a few days since something truly hysterical has happened to me. I have been patiently waiting.
Today, finally, something worth writing about.
I have just completed a job application for Walmart, via Walmart.com. Pretty standard stuff, except for the following:
1. A 5 step security process, including a complicated password requirement, many pages of “I agree”‘s, along with choosing 5–yes 5—prewritten security questions and answers. Under the questions “I have a ______for a pet”, I think they had every exotic and domestic option known to mankind, except for maybe the pet tick that I am inadvertantly keeping in a cup in my bathroom (only because I keep forgetting to flush him. His name is Frank)
2. Walmart has the scary capability of knowing that, years ago, I worked as a Customer Service Manager. YIKES. It asked me for my social security number, and then brought up my work history—from years and years and years ago! I. Am. Scared. But maybe that means they have on file that I was an amazing employee, which, of course, I was.
3. The online form asked me how much I want to be paid, per hour. How does one answer that truthfully? I WANT to be paid upwards of $35.00 per hour, actually.
4. At the end of a very lengthy application, I could not save and post my application until I took a 65—yes, a 65!!!! question evaluation. This is where things got really surreal. For example:
A. Susie and Tom are arguing. Susie is accusing Tom of not completing a work assignment, thus hindering her ability to complete her assignment. The argument is heated. You work in the same department as Tom, however you were not aware of the assignment. You….
1. Join the argument, sticking up for Tom and demanding that Susie apologize.
2. Quickly go down a different aisle, so as to avoid both the argument and the work that may result from the assignments.
3. Run quickly to get a manager, telling him that Susie and Tom can not get along and something should be done.
4. Introduce yourself to both parties, ask if there is anything you can do, to help remedy the problem.
REALLY??? They forgot the 5th option: Declare your right to perform a citizen arrest for Susie and Tom’s immaturity, fire them both, and then raid their lockers to add their bags of popcorn and Twinkies to your own stash for your 15 minute breaks.
Here’s another good one: “I regularly steal from my employer” (Answer Strongly agree, agree, neither agree or disagree, disagree, strongly disagree).
Hmmm. Wow.
Really, obviously the powers that be have put much time and thought into their online application. All in all, though lengthy, it was easy to understand and to complete.
My last job at Walmart was at a Walmart on the island of Hawaii, overlooking Kona-town and the bay, with an unimpeded view of the sky on the days I was assigned to the garden center. I’m not guessing I will get such a perk in Yorktown or Newport News, VA.
I Know Better than to Leave the House……..
I found myself in what was, to me, a most hysterical and peculiar situation today.
Like a good mom, I took my kids to see Shrek. Against my better judgement. We had been shopping. At the Mall. A Long Time. I hate the mall and I hate to shop. OH how I HATE to SHOP. But post shopping, we ate lunch. Yum. I love to eat. OH how I LOVE TO EAT.
So I did not want to go to the movies. Besides, I had read the reviews and they were disappointing–“Not Funny.” I didn’t want to spend the money or the two hours on something not funny.
But the manipulative munchkins talked me into seeing Shrek Forever After. Hmm, one should not watch a Shrek movie and come away being SAD—they turned it into a Chick Flick, hello??? Who’s idea was THAT? Fire the producer. Fire the writers. Fire the Key Grips.
Anyway, I was finding my heartrate/breathing a small bit of a challenge. I had been fighting a little bit of irrational panic and adrenaline off and on. And if any of you were at Old Navy today for their $1.00 Flip Flop sale, THEN YOU WERE PANICKING AS WELL, so don’t hate. Go ahead, tell me you weren’t. Good grief. There were 983 people in there buying black flip-flops for $1.00 (limit of 5 per customer, black was all they had left). I was tempted to bribe Bethany to yell “FIRE!!” just so that I could breathe again.
But today, though this goes against some of my strongest pet peeves, I am thinking that maybe an accumulation of panic amongst other things and thoughts, may have led to the situation I found myself in later that day, in the restroom of the Regal Theatre.
I was ill. Very, very ill. Very, very very ill. In a very, very public bathroom.
Not. Good.
And worse still, in the midst of being not well, it was so very hard not to laugh at the children’s, teens and their mom’s reaction as they entered the restroom, had I been in any condition at all to laugh. Of course, I would become ill right as soon as SHREK (which was attended by two-count ’em, TWO birthday party groups) let out—thus I was in a bathroom full of people, all waiting their turn. Oops. Their comments were down-right hysterical, if I could have recorded them, I would have. My favorite? “Someone needs some serious help.”
Has there every been a more truthful statement?
I tried to leave, but had to turn right back around, as I quickly sent a text to my daughter and apologizing that she and her siblings were having to wait for me. Her response? Something to the effect of : TAKE YOUR TIME. Thanks, my daughter dear, I’ll do that. I appreciate your permission.
About 30 minutes later, I was able to leave. Yep-30 minutes. Shoot, by then I could have snuck back in and could have chosen another movie to watch! But alas, the teen driver was eagerly waiting out in our van, torturing her brothers and sister, and I think they were taking bets to see how long it would take me to reappear. Should have gone to see Ironman 2, that would have taught them.
Just to finish off the story with a nice ending, the teen driver insisted that she must stop at Walmart. Ugh. But, being the good mother that I was trying hard to be, I acquiesced. As we were leaving Walmart, I set off the door alarm. I don’t know why. The little old smiley face sticker man asked me for my receipt. (Why don’t they give out those stickers any more? That was the only good part about going to Walmart. I suppose they are trying to save trees and “Go Green”. Bummer.) He asked me if I’d bought a TV. A TV?? Really? Of course I politely answered “No Sir”. I could see my kids standing outside WalMart, (how did they get past the Walmart police and I did not?) making fun of me while he checked my receipt for contraband. All he found was shampoo, my two new pairs of Sesame Street and AC/DC pajamas (no, Sesame Street and AC/DC does NOT create an antithesis), Pringle’s and shorts for Tim. Oh, and I think I bought some toothpaste. I’m thinking it was the AC/DC pajamas that were contraband. Or the toothpaste.