It’s The Little Words

The boyfriend had forgotten to pay his Sears card, and since he isn't here, he asked if I would run down to the store to take care of it. Not a problem, I've done it before. So it was off to Sears, "Where America Shops™".

The Sears here is awful. It's a giant slab of Soviet-era concrete. And it's attached to the ugliest mall in America, Valley Plaza. From the street, the mall looks like a medium security prison and has almost as much charm. It was a very sorry spectacle when we first moved here. Several of the anchor tenants had gone belly-up leaving boarded up hulks at two ends and inside it was endless corridors of dark, vacant retail spaces. Over the past two years though, things have improved... slightly. They added (yet another) Target and one of the vacant department stores has been turned into the world's largest Forever 21. As if the world needed a mammoth Forever 21. At least it filled up some space. It looks like a lot of the stores have been rented so the mall doesn't seem so much like the set of a post-apocalyptic film anymore. And the powers that be have embarked on a beauty makeover and finally ditched the old logo, which looked like it was made of human bones...



But, back to Sears...

I knew from previous experience that there's only one cashier where you can pay your bill and it's located in the garden department. Mid day on week day the store is always dead and I figured I'd be in and out in no time. Then again, I didn't factor in... Bakersfield.

I rounded the corner into the garden department and there at the cashier was a line of 8 people and some sort of dispute at the register. It had clearly been going on long enough for a line to form, so as I took my place in line I tried to get up to speed on the what was going on.

Here's the deal...

The man at the counter was trying to buy something. What, I couldn't tell you. What we did know was that it cost $8, or rather, it would've cost $8 but it was on sale. We knew it was on sale because rung up on the register was $4.80. And therein lies our dispute.

"The sign said 50% off!" insisted the man.

The clerk calmly informed him the sign said "UP TO" 50% off. His particular item was only 40% off.

"No it didn't!" said the man.

"Yes it did" said the clerk.

"No it didn't!" said the man.

"Yes it did" said the clerk.

"No it didn't!" said the man.

"Yes it did" said the clerk.

This back and forth had obviously been going on for a long time before I arrived.

The clerk pointed around the store to all the sale signs, all of which clearly said "UP TO 50% off".

"They're all the same, they all say 'Up To'" said the clerk.

"Not the one where I got THIS!" yelled the man.

Just then, another clerk showed up and I thought "Thank God", at least she'll be able to take care of all of us".

No such luck.

The first clerk turned to the second and said "BRING ME THE SALE SIGN FROM THE FASHION DEPARTMENT".

"Fashion" and "Sears" - two words that should never be used together.

Clerk #2 disappeared and a few moments later came the sound of a metal rake being dragged down a sidewalk, the clerk dragging the metal sign stand across the tile floor. She slammed it down next to the register and clerk #1 jabbed her finger at the words "UP TO".

Not to be outdone, the man jabbed his finger at "50%".

"UP TO..."

"50%!"

"UP TO..."

"50%!"

"UP TO..."

"50%!"

Back and forth they went, each practically punching the sign. It wouldn't be long until one of them actually broke through.

I should point out that this was all over 80 cents, the difference between 50% off and 40% off.

By this time, I was the only one getting visibly perturbed. The seven people in front of me all stood there like sheep. You see that a lot here. If this dispute dragged on for days, they would all still be standing there.

Finally, the yelling stopped and there was an uncomfortable pause. And then man suddenly said...

"Then I don't want it. I AM NOT PAYING FULL PRICE!!!".

And he stormed off.

Elapsed Time: 20 minutes. And probably another 20 minutes before I even arrived on the scene.

I am counting the days until we move because truth be told, I have had it UP TO here with these people.

Drop ’Til You Shop

What a cruel, cruel joke to play on someone. It's inhumane, really.

Yesterday I received a Crate & Barrel catalog in the mail. I love Crate & Barrel! I took some time off and kicked back with the dogs, lovingly leafing through page after page of sleek and stylish furniture and housewares. It was torture. Why? Because the nearest Crate & Barrel is 100 miles away in Beverly Hills.

I have no idea why I received it or how I got on the mailing list at this address. What kind of monster would do that to me?

Oh sure, you can shop online. Doesn't that sound like fun? Point, click, point, click. That isn't shopping, it's data entry.

When we first moved here, on my first trip to the local supermarket, my hopes were raised when I saw a huge display rack of gift cards. Nordstroms, Bloomingdales, Saks, H&M... Bakersfield couldn't be all THAT bad if it had all these stores.

But it doesn't. To use the cards you either have to shop online or hit the road.

In Bakersfield, it's either WalMart, or the highway. Literally.

"Oh yeah, shopping here sucks" one of my Gossip Girl lunch buddies confirmed over chicken tenders yesterday. "Most people drive into LA once a month to get what they need."

I think that would qualify as a humanitarian mission.

And it's true. Every time we've driven back into town from a weekend away, we pass or are passed by mammoth SUVs, packed to the headliners with shopping bags from all the best LA malls.

You would think the big retailers might throw us a bone. How about a Nordstrom Rack for God's sake? Anything. Or how about an outlet mall? How come you can shop at an Armani Exchange or Barney's in Cabazon, in the middle of the freakin' desert, and all we're stuck with is Ed Hardy rejects at what passes for a Macy's here. It's just sad.

Tough Sheet

Saturday was set aside to do some shopping, always a dismal prospect here.

The bottom line is that you just don't have many options here. There aren't that many stores and they tend to be Cliff Notes, abridged versions of the one you could find in the city. They carry a narrow range of merchandise, so odds are no matter what you're looking for, in clothes, or food, or housewares or anything, they won't have it and have never heard of it. And in the rare instance they actually carry what you're looking for, it will be out of stock. Everything here is perpetually out of stock.

"We should be getting some more in next Thursday" they say.

It's always Thursday, don't ask me why. Maybe giant cargo planes swoop in on Thursdays and do emergency airdrops out in the fields, like a Third World country. Which when you think about it, isn't that far off the mark.

"Yeah, you really need to go to LA for anything. Or shop online. If you shop here you're just going to cry" one lady friend advised me. Boy, was she right.

There's WalMart, of course. Six of 'em. Open 24/7. If you find yourself needing adult diapers or a new set of tires at 3am, it's your lucky day. There are a couple of Targets, and then down at the mall there's a Sears, a Pennys and a Macy's.

When we first moved here and exited the freeway near the mall, I said "Thank God, they at least have a Macy's." But they really don't. It's "Macy's Basement". It's where all the other Macy's from all over the country dump all the crap they were unable to sell, all the outdated fashions and what-were-they-thinking styles and slightly damaged goods. I went in the Men's department once and it was a sea of Ed Hardy bedazzled T-shirts. There may have also been some Member's Only jackets and parachute pants, I couldn't be sure. And it was all piled high on crowded tables like a garage sale.

Luckily for us, it hasn't really been an issue since we've been so destitute shopping for anything hasn't really been in the cards. But lately, things have improved and we finally found ourselves with a little disposable income and some desperate needs. Chief among them... sheets.

We moved here with probably half a dozen sets of sheets, but one by one our cheap appliances have been picking them off. Our sadistic washer beats them to a pulp, and then the nuclear dryer shrinks them to size of dish towels. We were down to one set and it was pretty threadbare. So the boyfriend set off around 10am to find us new sheets.

He came home three hours later, empty handed and near tears.

See, we made the executive decision when we bought our current mattress to go for a "Standard King", as opposed to the "California King" which is all the rage these days. The reason was simple: the dogs. Although they appear small, they have the remarkable ability to stretch to cover half the bed. We needed the extra real estate. We've never had any issue buying sheets for it before. It is, after all, called "standard" for a reason. But not here.

The boyfriend went to two Walmarts, a Target, Bed, Bath & Beyond, Sears, Pennys and Macy's. Nada. It wasn't that they didn't have anything he liked, it's that they had nothing.

I offered to treat him to lunch and see if we could find some other options. And as we were driving around, we came across something new... Homegoods. It a new housewares store from the fashionistas at TJMaxx. It was worth a shot.

So in we went. It's kind of like a swap meet. We saw all the bedding along the back wall and the boyfriend immediately headed back and started digging and within a few minutes... Voila! Standard size sheets! Three of them!

The electric neon green set we immediately discarded. Life is just too short to wake up to that every day. Which left us choosing between the two remaining sets.

"You don't HATE polka dots, do you?" the boyfriend asked.

Not anymore. Not if it was the best we were going to do.

At least it will be easier to spot the dogs. My little dog is the same color as our old sheets, and a couple of times I've flipped her into the air because I didn't see her when I was making the bed. I'm sure she'll be happy now.

That makes one of us.

My World And Welcome To It

Watch it and weep.

China Girls

It has been, for me, "The Place That Shall Not Be Named".

A bridge too far. A place my pride and self respect wouldn't allow me to go. A sign of defeat, of hopes and dreams crushed forever. A final surrender to all things mediocre and the end in the belief of a better life in our future.

Walmart.

The boyfriend has no such problem; he goes all the time.

But me? Just couldn't do it. I'd only been to one once, back in LA. It was in a Third World section of the Valley and it was crowded, cluttered and filthy. Never again, I said. "But it's different here" the boyfriend would say. "It's not what you think..."

Even when they opened two mammoth stores recently, within spitting distance of each other, I refused to go. There were few fates worse than death, but becoming a "Walmart Shopper" was one of them.

But all that changed yesterday. I popped my Walmart cherry.

The boyfriend was doing well and in need of a little retail therapy and was off to Walmart. He was on a quest for cheap dinnerware. We have a lovely set of fancy china that we spent a fortune on years ago when we imagined ourselves doing all kinds of entertaining in our house in the hills. It's been used exactly twice. For everyday use we had used a set of vintage plates and bowls the boyfriend picked up ages ago, a beautiful 60's design from the pre-microwave era. That became a problem in time, and the fact they were probably made of asbestos and painted in lead made using them seem risky. So for years we've relied on a motley assortment of plastic plates we've accumulated. A lot of them have Christmas designs since we received them as a plate of holiday cookies from the old neighbors and never bothered to return them. It's always been a particular irritant for the boyfriend. But now he was off to Walmart in search of cheap Chinese dinnerware to solve the problem and he asked if I'd like to tag along.

And I said yes. Not sure why really. Maybe I've just lost the will to live.

We went to the newest one, nearest our house. As huge as it looks from the street, it's overwhelming once you pass through the doors. You could easily put 6 or 8 football fields in that building. And then you see all the... stuff. Oh my God! It has... everything! You could probably live your entire life under that roof without ever having to leave. And I wouldn't be surprised if people do. Who knew you could find a bag of lettuce and a big screen TV all in one place?

We went straight to the dinnerware section and quickly found a design we liked. A sixteen piece set for $40! We'll take two! And that's how it works at Walmart, they hook you with the prices. You come in for tube socks and leave with a 52" plasma screen. If you can just forget about all the Chinese slave labor and sweatshops and focus on the savings, you catch Walmart fever. And we weren't immune. Soon we were surfing the entire store, finding all sorts of things we didn't know we needed. Look! Coconuts! Who the hell eats coconuts in Bakersfield? Who cares! At these prices, stock up! Soon we had the oddest assortment of merchandise I'd ever seen in a shopping cart, underwear and frozen dinners and God knows what piled on top of the boxes of new china.

So overall I have to say I was pleasantly surprised. Almost all my preconceptions were proven wrong. All except the people. The people who shop there fit every stereotype of Walmart Shoppers. I've never seen so many fat people in scooters in my life - it was like a Tea Party convention.

And the staff aren't the brightest stars in the heavens. We were at checkout and a slack-jawed drone was mindlessly scanning our merchandise and dropping it into the carousel of bags. Neither of us we're paying much attention and the boyfriend had already swiped his card. She totaled the order and looked up with her dead Walmart eyes...

"That's $108. Thank you for shopping Walmart."

Imagine that! All that swag, and china too, for only $100!

Wait a minute. That made no sense. The china alone was $80. We were halfway to the car when the boyfriend whipped out the receipt to see what was up and noticed she had never scanned the two boxes of china. And now we found ourselves at a real moment of truth. Do we return to the store and point out the error? Or do we go to lunch?

Hmmm... that was a tough one.

Save Money. Live Bitter.

On Wednesday the new WalMart Supercenter opened. It's 200,000 square feet of cheap, shoddy, Chinese-made crap.

It's less than 5 miles from the WalMart Supercenter that opened in November. That one is also 200,000 square feet of cheap, shoddy, Chinese-made crap.

Both are less than 10 miles from the other two Walmarts, which, although not "super", are each 150,000 square feet of cheap, shoddy, Chinese-made crap.

By my rough calculation, that's 2 square feet of cheap, shoddy, Chinese-made crap for every man, woman and child of Bakersfield.

And as far as I can tell, that's about all there is to Bakersfield. There's no "there" here. It's one ginormous suburb that's all "sub" and no "urb". People go about their lives, work a 40 hour week so they can then go blow it all at Walmart. And then go in Monday morning and do it all over again. Maybe eat at Applebee's, or Olive Garden, or some other massive corporate "casual dining" chain.

The sad thing is there's actually a quaint part of downtown. Cool, older buildings that anywhere else would've been renovated into unique stores, restaurants, maybe galleries. But all the storefronts sit empty or boarded up. They'll be having none of that Commie "unique" crap here, thank you very much. They'll do the American thing and buy crap made by real Commies... at Walmart.

It's some weird hive mentally. Actually, it's more like sheep. Conformity rules the day here, and no one colors outside the lines. And as far as I can tell, that's how they like it. You could really see it around the holidays in the front yards. Everyone had the same shabby decorations, the same inflatable monstrosities, the same lights, the same wreaths. Why? Because it was all at Walmart.

And it was cheap.

And disposable.

Like your free will.

A Mall and the Night Visitor

So, I made my first foray to the local mall. Man, what a dreary experience THAT was. If you're prone to depression, I suggest steering clear, because a visit could just send you over the edge. From the street it looks like a minimum security prison - a low slung pile of concrete and cinder block. No windows that I could see. Inside, it is what it is and has always been - a 70's era enclosed mall. It doesn't appear that there's been much effort to change with the times and spruce it up over the years. And really, why should they bother? There isn't another mall for 100 miles in any direction. When you're the only hooker in town you can afford to let yourself go.

If anything, the Christmas decorations made the experience worse. A smattering of limp, dingy wreathes and a couple of oversized, ratty teddy bears that have seen better days. It had all the charm of Christmas at an animal shelter. I made it about halfway through and then was overcome with the desire to leave.

I believe this year I'll be doing my holiday shopping online.