Aselin

Normally this time of year, I do my very, very, very (sorry Mr. Heller former English teacher who disallowed the use of the word very in his class) best to avoid places where people go. Common, fun places most people love, like the mall. I do everything in my power to avoid the mall, especially now when all the rest of humanity is headed toward the mall.

I'm not so good with people, especially large, aimless, wandering crowds of people. They make me hyperventilate and get cranky because there is nothing efficient about mall people. (Sorry if you are a mall person, but I would still avoid you this time of year because if you are a mall person you are inefficient. )

So today, I need something at Target. Target is not the mall. It's a nicely laid out store where you can get in, get what you want and get out very quickly. Efficient people like Target. List people like Target.

Armed with my list I enter my local Target and sweep through the store in a efficiency fairy-like manner. People around me were impressed with my shopping efficiency; I think some of them wanted to be me.

I choose a lane to check out with a 20ish man-checker. Man-checkers totally get efficient shopping. They don't want to chat, they look at the people who have lined up in their lane and see each of us like items on a to-do list they want to check off as quickly as possible. Target man-checker may be my best choice this whole holiday shopping season.

As Target man-checker is working on the order in front of me I start to load my items on the conveyer belt. The problem with "the unload" is once you start, if they open up another lane you're out of luck. You have committed to your lane, and they take the person behind you. I don't worry. I'm in man-checker lane.

You think you know where this is going, don't you?

So as I'm unloading, a perky manager comes over and asks if she can take my hangers. My basket has a lot of clothes on hangers so of course I say yes. In my efficiency-calculating head this is going to work nicely, she will de-hang and I will unload and man-checker will fly through my order like a reindeer.

Perky manager loves my purchases. I cleaned out the clearance rack of boys clothes, and she feels the need to comment on every stinking one as she de-hangs it. She has positioned herself between me and the conveyer belt, and is de-hanging, oohing and ahhing, then neatly FOLDING each of my items. "Ooooh, a solid blue boy's t-shirt and it's only $2! This is fantastic!" Yep, I nod, but inside, I want to rip the hanger from her hand and beat her with it.

I'm trapped. I cannot get to the conveyer belt to unload the rest of my stuff. I cannot get the clothing away from her to de-hang on my own and for some unknown reason man-checker is standing there watching her. Not checking. Watching.

I look at the person behind me in line, who shakes her head at me knowingly. She knows, all my efficiency has been thwarted. Thwarted.

I give up unloading and move ahead of her hoping man-checker will GET TO WORK. It's then that I notice man-checker's wrist-to-elbow bandage wrapped arm. He looks at me and says, "I'm in a terrible amount of pain, sorry, I just needed to rest a moment."

What do you say to that? Man-up man-checker? No, I pretend I'm sympathetic, "What happened?"

"I really don't like to talk about it, but I severed three tendons."

Ahhh, of course. I pick the line with the "helpful" manager and the man-checker with the humiliating tendon severing accident.

Of course, then all I can think about is what sort of tendon accident is too embarrassing to talk about. My mind is aflurry. I'm guessing it involved a trampoline, other people man-checker's age and likely some alcohol. Maybe a skateboard, a trampoline, other man-checker friends and a lot of alcohol. Maybe fireworks, a skateboard, some homemade napalm, a trampoline, a switchblade, man-checker friends, a squirrel and a lot of alcohol and fire. I want to ask SOOO BADLY!!

But it's Christmas.

So I stand quietly in line, as severely injured man-checker tries awkwardly to check out each of my items and get them in a bag. It's so awkward, and he is mostly incapable, that I'm reaching over the counter and bagging my own stuff.

Meanwhile, manager is STILL commenting on my stuff, but to the lady behind me in line. When I notice this, and see that the lady is TOTALLY ignoring her by Facebooking on her phone, yet manager still goes on excitedly about the amazing clearance tshirt I found. I get the giggles.

Of course, both man-checker and manager think I'm laughing at them, which I am, but of course I am not going to admit because I may not be very smart but I'm not completely stupid. I think.

About 75 hours later I'm back safely in my minivan, slowly crossing "Target" off my list.