Project Grrrr: Part 2

Returned to Walmart to return the "Honey, 26 will fit" $@! bicycle tires.

The Returns line wound around a hideous display of fake potted plants, snaked past a Walmart Pedicure office and ended at the entrance to the Walmart restrooms.

And there I stood, trapped; clutching my "Honey, 26 will fit" tires to me like a mini rubber Kevlar vest while hefty shoppers dressed in stretch pants bumped repeatedly into me as they exited the bathrooms.

(Dear God, people, why. WHY must you terrorize me with material that displays every lump, bulge, cellulite crater, one family size Cheetos bag too many, clothing?? Breathe, Kat. Breathe. Phew! Man. Toenail cleaner and bathroom solvents making me dizzy...Huh. Look at that. A sign advertising a book signing by Lisa Jackson on Wednesday. Wow. Wonder who she pissed off to end up doing a book tour at Walmart?)

"NEXT!"

I snapped from my internal revelings and shuffled my way to the Returns counter.

Plunking the "Honey, 26 will fit" items onto the counter, the Returns clerk speared me with suspicious beady eyes.

"Why you return?"

"They are the wrong size."

She picked up the "Honey, 26 will fit" tire that I had spent an %$@! hour trying to wedge onto my bike rim and held it away from herself with the two finger grip of disgust.

"You no use?"

"What?"

"You no use this?"

"Um. No. It didn't fit. How could I use it?"

"It dirty."

"Well. That would be from the $#@! HOUR I spent on my garage floor trying to CRAM it on my bike frame." I said with a gritted tooth smile.

"Hmm."

Transaction complete, I lumbered off to the Bike section to search for the correct size of tire.

Huh. Look at that. 26 1. 3/8 Kevlar Road Tires. Right next to the "Honey, 26 will fit" ones!

I snapped them up, paid and headed home, victorious.

Or was I...