Marshall Madness

I had to go to Marshalls (the discount store) today. I knew this was risky - its prime pre-college days. That's why I haven't returned Amy's items to IKEA - its also a time-sucking building of doom during August (to be fair to Marshalls, IKEA is ALWAYS a time sucking building of doom, only this time of year it devours eras versus hours).

It was crowded, especially in the housewares section. Of course, my shopping list consisted of pillows, sheets, and blankets. We have a condo we're trying to sell (yes, in Florida)(stop laughing). Naturally, we have to rent it instead. One bedroom had a daybed, and the rental agent recommended switching to two twin beds. I need to pick up the linens before Barry heads up to get everything in order. I struggle through the aisles filled with mothers and daughters (oddly, no sons here to pick out matching pink polka dotted comforters). They squeal with each new find, from towels to the perfect coordinating pillows. One couple is particularly effusive and blocking the blanket/sheet aisle, so I begin with bed pillows.

I have two questions. One, why are Marshalls carts so tiny? By the time I put in two pillows and the blankets, it was full. I needed an additional set of pillows and sheets - I stacked these precariously on top of the first pillows, so I had to move the cart with one hand on the tower of bargains and the other hand pushing and steering. I would think bigger carts would encourage bigger spenders. I didn't continue browsing because I didn't want to deal with the difficulty of transporting any more items. You LOSE Marshalls! I could feel a spending spree coming on...those gooseberry preserves from 2006 had my name on them!

My second question is why don't they let the carts leave the premises? As I'm juggling items between cashier and cart, cashier and cart (pillow up, pillow back...sheets up...not so fast), she begins to bag the sheets and blankets. I'm all into good plastic bag environmental responsibility (I really need to get a life), so I protest and say "Oh, don't bag it, I'm going straight to the car."

Cashier responds, "You can't take the carts past the door."

I've seen the warning signs a dozen times, but never had a big enough load to worry about this. What's up with this? Well, the parking lot is small - and most Miami lots do not have cart corrals (WHY?), so the carts pile up in the lot. This makes parking difficult and carts unavailable to newly arriving customers (unless a shopper would bring one from the lot...hahhahaha...oh, I AM funny!). Marshalls probably doesn't have the staff to deal with gathering the carts every hour or so (they barely have the associates to keep the cashier line moving). Maybe they also had a big cart theft problem. I might have the urge to dump the whole cart in the back of the van, rather than unload. You never know with the Crazy Gringo.

Still, I'd like to have some sort of option to get my stuff to the car. They sell furniture, for goodness sake! How is a savvy Miami shopper supposed to wrestle two dining chairs out to her car, especially wearing high heels and talking on her cell phone?

I have to stop before the front door and make a carrying to the car strategy. This is when I get an attack of the clumsies. After tucking and clasping most of the items, I drop a blanket. While picking it up, one of pillows slides out of its plastic bag to the floor. I pick up the blanket and the pillow and the bag, but drop the diet coke I bought while dehydrating in line. I will now have to wait 14 hours to open it so I don't fizz all over myself and the car.

Half of the lot is cordoned off due to resurfacing. It's 12:30 p.m., so cars are circling and waiting for places. Three cars stack up behind my place as I walk to the van. My clicker key chain hasn't worked in months, so I have to drop all of the items next to the van before I can find my keys and open the door the old-fashioned way. It's 98 degrees out. I'm sweating. I'm nervous because of the hovering shoppers.

Throwing item after item into the side door, I'm grateful nothing is breakable. I drive home, and fall into bed for a nap - a privilege for the peril I've endured. (Yes, Barry, thank you for working full time and yes, I know, you don't ever get to nap. xxoo)