We tried to be prepared.. it was a Sunday, so our destination had different hours. We took to the web to find out what those hours were. This was definitely a mistake. I almost miss phone books.
The first place had a link for hours and told me all about their Christmas and other holiday hours. So at that point, we know when we couldn't go, but not when we could. We eventually found the hours by going to a different site.
I'll tell you something the professionals won't: depression is 75% brain chemistry and 25% trying to find stuff on the web or type things on your phone. I am dismayed that people are moving to cell phones to browse, over laptops and desktops. With that in mind, you'd think the web pages for phones would take the hint and get better. As Ben Stern said, "I told you not to be stupid, you moron." An entire page in a font ants strain to read is not helpful.
The second place had hours and even shared them with customers. But mostly they had a BIG SALE.
The third place only took 47 minutes to release its secrets.
I'm a huge technology guy and if I can't find this stuff, what hope do my parents have? Perhaps I have it wrong and the sites are set up for The Great Unwashed, and anyone with more than a few brain cells can't figure out it. This may be giving myself too much credit.
So on a Sunday, 3 connected stores were open at 9, 10, and 11:00. While this crisis doesn't reach the level of nuclear winter, the coordination and planning behind it is fun; like the class of ADHD students writing down the date of the next test. Look - a FENCE!
We took The Parents. You have not lived until you've seen Mom and Mrs lefty spend ten minutes going over the vagaries and precise details of work gloves. I didn't want to be unreasonable by demanding they return to the planet, as I'm only really horrible online. Of course I was thrilled because they had tool chests in blue. It takes all kinds.
When I told Mrs lefty to speed it up a bit (please), she said she was doing her best. Doing her best? How? Doing her best to discuss gloves, chatting about relatives, stopping to look in a window, more Glove Talk, more windows to check out. I'd hate to see her not doing her best.
Then there's Cigarette PTSD.
If you know a smoker, you'll understand. They're always the last out of the car because they're getting their cigarette ready. They're terrified they'll never have another cigarette. Logically, this is plain stupid, as they just got done paying $27.89 a pack for tobacco with urea and huge banners that say SMOKING WILL KILL YOU.
Once they're out of the car, they're the last in the store or destination because they have to smoke the little things. And if there's a walk involved, they can smoke another one, delaying the entire busload of cancer patients another ten minutes.
I was at a mall with Mrs lefty and her sister. As we were leaving and approached within 50 feet of the exit, they both had their ciggies ready. In fact, the PTSD was so bad, they only made it to the first set of automatic doors - both of them. By the second set (15' away), they were already enjoying burning plants with toxic additives and putting the nicotine goodness from it into their lungs.
If you watch police shows, you'll notice they arrest the perp for shooting 47 people and raping kittens, and the only thing the bad guy will say is to beg for a last cigarette before they take him to jail.
Other scenes from a mall
When the ice cream guy hands you caramel ice cream and strawberry cheesecake ice cream, why do you have to taste them first to figure out which is which? When you tell him someone dropped an entire cone on your side of the counter, he asks small or large.
The frozen lemonade stand looked interesting. It would be more interesting if they had actual lemon-flavored lemonade, as pictured. This is what I call Unreasonable Expectations.
The place that has [James Earl Jones voice] THE MEAT, doesn't tell you THE MEAT doesn't extend to the outside of the bun. But hey - curly fries. There's apparently a bell by the door you're supposed to ring if you thought the food was delicious. If anyone ever rung it, it would develop a crack larger than the Liberty Bell. I guess if you didn't think the food was delicious you'd need to signal your thoughts, perhaps with a long, pronounced fart.
Speaking of long, pronounced farts, have you seen that Payless Shoes is going out of business? Now's the time to hit the stores. That is, unless you're my size or like what I like, in which case there aren't any shoes. When I had determined there were no shoes for me in the entire SHOE store, I was tying my shoes and some lady asked, with great difficulty, if she could use the seat to tie her other person's shoe. Well, sure, but they'd have to wait for me (I'm funny that way). While waiting, the other person, probably on the autistic spectrum, let out a long, zippy kinda fart. I was waiting for the entire aisle to fall over, but everyone politely waited til we left the store, before doing verbal impersonations.
All in all, it was a great day to swear this is something you'll never do again, then forget and do it again. At least we procured a tie with functional piano keys on it, so the day wasn't totally shot.
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