I went shopping at Target (pronounced Tar-jay) today.
My electric razor broke so it was either this or risk decapitating my head trying to manually shave myself with a blade. I haven’t used a blade since college and I wasn’t very good at it then. I’m now on low-dose aspirin, so I think I would probably bleed to death if I tried. I tried to fix the old razor. The one head has been coming loose for months, but I kept snapping it back in. And it falls out when I try to clean it. This morning, it kept falling out while I was trying to shave. It annoys me. It would have to for me to go shopping.
I pull into the parking lot , which isn’t terribly crowded for a Sunday morning, and as I am pulling into a space, a woman gets in her car right in front of me. I think to myself that this is great, because I can pull on through to her space when she leaves, and then I won’t have to back out when I return.
Have you ever tried backing out in a Wal-Mart or Target parking lot? Any parking lot? Pedestrians are stupid. Or blind. Because surely they can see a car backing out, but that doesn’t stop them. And they all walk down the middle of the lane instead of near the cars. Do you walk down the middle of a road or highway? Hellooo? McFly? That’s where the cars go, folks. And if you see back-up lights and a car pulling out, you’d better stop. Or at least PICK UP YOUR PACE. With blind spots and trying to see around today’s big SUVs, the driver probably can’t see you. But I digress.
So I wait for the woman in the white car to pull away. And I wait. I pretend to look over at the store, as if I’m waiting to pick someone up, instead of waiting for her parking spot. I don’t actually want to make eye contact with her. I don’t know why. I just don’t. I open my phone and pretend to text. I delete a few old messages from my inbox. May as well get some useful work done here while I’m waiting for Mrs. All The Time In The World to get moving. Her car engine is on and her brake lights are on, but nobody’s at home on the gas pedal.
It felt like I waited five minutes–perhaps I did, but it might have only been two or three. WTH.
I finally turn my car off and get out, figuring she must be smoking a pack or eating lunch or something. She pulls away. If it wasn’t intentional it was the most perfectly unplanned coincidence in the history of parking. But I showed her. I jumped back in my car, restarted the engine, and took her spot. Take that Bitch.
Inside, I head to the Health and Beauty section. It’s not as though shaving makes me beautiful, or improves my health, but I figure that is the section that is most likely to have a razor in it. And it does. Blades. Shaving gels. After-shave. Pre-shave. Epilators for women. Everything but an electric razor.
So I try electronics. Ipods. Ipads. But no Irazors. Well, the guy behind the camera counter raised his Ibrows at me, but that doesn’t count. And now I can’t possibly ask him where they might be. I don’t know why. I just can’t. It’s a male thing. Like asking for directions–well, in this case, it is asking for directions. I can’t do that.
I wander aimlessly among the aisles like Moses in the desert. I try “Small electrics” but find only coffee pots and other well, small electric devices. Which should include a razor, but it did not.
I call my wife, who is at Sam’s Club and the reason why I am on this shopping quest and not her, and she says the razors should be in Health and Beauty past where the curling irons are. I didn’t see any curling irons. I go back to Health and Beauty but I cannot find any curling irons or razors.
I continue to browse the aisles aimlessly, my eyes glassing over. I think I’m hyperventilating. Or hypoglycemic. I’m beginning to get a bit woozy. I should have grabbed a bag of M&Ms from the candy aisle. At least I could have a sugar high, and I could leave a trail of candy to mark which aisles I have already wasted part of my life in.
I finally break down and ask the camera counter guy. Without even thinking about it, he tells me aisle E-14 and points past Home and Garden. I think Mr. Ibrows knew all along what I was looking for. Either that, or he is going on break and he just sent me on a wild goose chase. But what do I have to lose but another few hours of my life? I’ve already lost my dignity.
I didn’t even know the aisles were marked.
But his directions were on Target, so to speak.
And now I can shave again.