Allison picked some of Clarence's dahlias to enjoy in the house. They have nothing to do with this post, except that I thought I needed a picture.
I don't venture into WalMart very often, but there are some items that are enough cheaper there that I make the extra stop once in a while. This past week was one of those times.
The girls each needed a new planner for the school year and I wanted to get some other odds and ends while I was waiting to pick Julianne up from work. Having time to kill (therefore, time to look around) makes for a much more expensive trip than being in a hurry and loading only those things on my list into the cart.
I found cute planners, but not notebook filler paper. Big packs of index cards and, oh, yeah, the last time I tried using my white-out, it was all dried up, so into the cart it went. Then off to the health and beauty department to get various things.
I finally arrived at the self-checkout lane and started scanning my items. When I scanned my white-out, the register told me to wait for assistance. Who knew they had to card you for correction fluid?
The checkout girl walked over, carefully punched in her numbers, then turned and very deliberately looked at my face. I smiled and said "I'm 50."
She responded with "Really? If you were buying booze, I would have carded you because you only look 35."
I laughed and thanked her-and as I walked away, I mused that I felt a lot better about my $80 bill than I had before she had to verify my age. I'm convinced this was some sort of marketing ploy. Well played, WalMart.