So this week has been non-stop domestication-like activities, minus anything related to children. Unless you count dealing with adults who act like children.
Between this weekend and this week, I’ve made many shopping trips to pick up essential sewing items. I went to a couple fabric stores, Walmart and even Coon Rapids, to purchase items like fabric, fabric paint, pins and a pin cushion, pillow stuffing, a rotary cutter and other stuff you don’t care about me listing. I also purchased quite possibly the most crucial piece to my sewing future: a workstation. OK, it’s actually a dining room table, but the top is a sturdy piece of wood that will withstand the maximum power of my sewing machine, slip ups with paint and those rare occasions where the rotary cutter happens to slip off the cutting board. Anyway, I found this gem of a table and six matching chairs (!) for only $50 on Craig’s List. Seriously, this was the highlight of my weekend. To be honest, it could be the highlight of the month. That’s how ecstatic I am about this table purchase. Enough with my obsession about the table.
You might underestimate how long it takes to visit a large fabric store on a weekday during the lunch hour. My shopping probably took half an hour, maybe 45 minutes. My checkout time? Ten minutes. I realize that doesn’t sound like a long time, but let me explain. There were three operating checkout registers. Each had a customer, and I was the next person. So theoretically, I should have maybe stood in line two minutes, maybe three. The lady who was directly in front of me had only one item: some kind of fake plant in a basket. So to me, that seems like I should have to wait less than two minutes. Actual wait time? About seven minutes. Seven minutes! Do you know how long seven minutes is when you’re just standing there, waiting?
Everyone at the registers kept asking questions.
“I, like, am making this dress, and, like, I need to cover this one section, but I don’t know if this will work,” an obviously annoying girl says while holding some kind of contraption that I’m not domesticated enough to understand. “Oh, hmm,” says the checkout register lady, “I have no idea.” What? How can you not know? You work at a giant fabric store. Shouldn’t that be a basic requirement to get a job there? Ugh. So she calls someone else who must know something, because that person said whatever it was Annoying Girl wanted to achieve, she wasn’t going to do it with the mystery product.
After the checkout lady hangs up the phone, Annoying Girl asks, “So, like, do you think it’s, liiiiiiiike, worth trying anyway? Ya know, like, just to, like, see if it might work?” Why are you asking questions at the checkout lane? There are tons of people in the product aisles who could have answered your question before you got here. The expert on the phone said it wouldn’t work! What makes you think it might? That person knows enough to know what kind of object you want and what you’re trying to do. That qualifies him or her to be trusted. Move on! Get out of the line so I can check out!
Meanwhile, fake-plant-basket-lady looks like she’s typing something into the credit card machine. Press ‘Accept’ already! The price can’t be a surprise — it’s one item! Accept the purchase price, sign that machine and go! I feel like she’s filling out some type of questionnaire about her shopping experience.
1) How long do you like standing in line?
2) How long do you like making other people stand in line?
3) We see that you only purchased one item. Would you like us to spend as much time helping you during your checkout experience as we would if you’d purchased 462 items? Because that’s what’s happening. We just want to make sure it’s what you prefer. And you seem to, because you’re taking your sweet, precious time answering these questions.
4) Why do you hate Lindsey so much? Why do you want to make her life a living hell by taking a year to purchase one fake plant in a wicker basket? And you saw the basket before you picked it, right? We’re just wondering, because it’s hella ugly. We’re not sure why you’re taking up so much of Lindsey’s time to purchase something like this. Are you sure that’s even from our store? Maybe it’s from one of our competitors and they stashed it here to sabotage us.
5) Quite frankly, lady, you’ve been here longer than most of our employees. If you know anything about sewing or crafts or even if you don’t, we’d like you to consider filling out an application, preferably in a quicker fashion than your checkout process.
Finally the basket lady accepted the purchase, took her receipt and headed on her merry way to most likely sit in the parking lot behind my vehicle so I would have to wait for her again. My actual checkout time was maybe two minutes, and that’s just because I had to explain that I had something in my basket that I didn’t want to actually purchase. The checkout girl was also very keen on folding my fabric so that all the edges lined up precisely, then placing them in the plastic bag, then seeing that the edges weren’t lining up now and taking the fabric out of the bag to fold again, then re-placing them — extra carefully — so the lines would match up in the bag.
I thought about going there again this weekend possibly to browse their fabric selection a little more, but I’m concerned it’ll be a zoo. Who knew everyone else was selecting sewing as their hobby of choice?