Profiled at Wal-Mart

I stopped in at Wal-Mart on my lunch break today. I needed to pick up a few things to make a smoothie. I scurried around the store, collecting my few items and then rushed to the self checkout lane. I got:

1 Navel Orange

1 half-gallon of milk

1 little container of strawberries

1 container of Greek yogurt.

In all, the visit was less than $10. I paid and waited for my receipt. But before my receipt could finish printing the lady manning the self checkout area comes over to me and says,

“Let me see your receipt,”  she demanded, snatching it from the register before I could get it.

I said, “Are you serious?”

She nodded and started digging through my groceries.

“What are you doing?” I said angrily. “What are you looking for?”

Her answer was to point to my container of Greek yogurt and claim, “I thought that was a thing of red chile. My bad,” before walking away like nothing happened.

So seriously Wally World? WTF? What was it about me that peaked your invasive interests? The clerk totally ignored the very ominous looking man in a white muscle-shirt, khaki shorts and covered in gangster tattoos eyeing the candy rack while he thought no one was looking. But that would be profiling, and profiling is wrong and socially unacceptable. I guess walking around Wal-Mart in pants and a work shirt is a little too suspicious for the lunch time crowd. But that’s profiling. And profiling is wrong and socially unacceptable…except at airports and now Wal-Mart.


And in case you were wondering, the smoothie was freakin’ delicious!


About Universal Shift

I am the Sonata Unusual. I coat myself with some obtuse angle too far below zero to become any warmer. I create motivation, activate schemas, moisten gardens with scents of natural honeydew. Construct this meaning, you sleepy flock. Silence your singing—despairing contortions out of tune. Shatter the brittle butterfly glass with your hideous wailing. I am born of my god’s imagination. When I die I shall meet him. For there are many things to discuss over tea…or scotch.

Posted on May 8, 2013, in Author, Uncategorized, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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