I took this snazzy Bow Tie o’ the Day for a walk at Walmart last Sunday, which was the day before Labor Day. Suzanne was off with the shopping cart, most likely being mesmerized by office supplies or fabric quarters. Aside from me and Suzanne and this seemingly harmless family, there was almost nobody shopping. I have often been a middle-of-the-night shopper when I can’t sleep, but I don’t think I have ever seen so few consumers consuming there in the afternoon.
Initially, I was gleeful at the thought of having a subdued, barely inhabited shopping outing. Imagine doing your Walmart shopping, without the People of Walmart! But no. Lucky me– I don’t get to enjoy a nice, simple outing of unbridled consumerism. Nope. Why? It’s that nondescript family you see in the otherwise barren aisles of my snapshot. They look pleasant enough, but one of those kids will forever be known as The Centerville Walmart Master o’ Screaming Tantrums.
I know, I know. We’ve all heard the loud tantrums of kids in public. We’ve all felt for the parent whose offspring is having an uncontrollable cow, despite their every attempt to get the child to turn it down a notch. And sometimes we’ve even wanted to spank the parent for not spanking the kid after the first or second or twenty-sixth howl.
But I must declare I have never in my 55 years encountered one of these fits with decibel levels of these olympic heights. Nor have I heard such a regular, near-constant, turmoil. The kid didn’t skip a beat. The kid was a pro. The fact that there were few other shoppers seemed to make his yelping echo vigorously through the building. The sound kept making my hearing aid screech. The kid’s shrieks were literally blood-curdling. I felt like I needed a transfusion by the time we left the store. Even Bow Tie o’ the Day couldn’t get out of there fast enough. So much for a quiet Sabbath.