Yes, we went again. Disappointing; isn’t it? A big black guy, both tall and overweight (but clean and neat) was walking in the entrance when we got there, but unlike some folks, he stepped over into the grass when he heard us coming up behind him. I let my wife out at the lawn and garden entrance, as she prefers, then went looking for a handicapped parking space.
I hadn’t gone far when I saw one, and got ready to turn into that aisle. Unfortunately, a guy coming towards me along the front main traffic aisle took forever getting by. By that time, I had two other folks with handicapped stickers trying to steal the space from me, but they were prevented from doing so by a worker stopped in the way with a string of carts, and an old lady passing me from behind at the dizzying speed of about ½ mile per hour. There we all sat, in a sort of Mexican standoff, until I finally tired of the situation and moved on to other areas to search. I found a good spot on the second swing through the lot.
After hobbling inside with the help of my cane, I waited only a couple minutes when a nice young lady returned a handicapped cart her mother had been using, and asked me if I needed it. I said yes and thanked her.
A little way down the front main aisle, there was another really large black guy selling photo packages. His voice was loud, but friendly sounding, but since my own personal experience with blacks has made me very prejudiced (though not bigoted or racist), I was suspicious of him, especially since I knew he wasn’t a local. My thoughts of him turned 180 degrees, though, when I heard him mention Thessalonians in a conversation with another fellow. Anyone who even KNOWS that term is probably a brother under the skin. My opinion was re-enforced a few minutes later when I heard him thank someone for their time and say “God bless you.”
My water pill soon kicked in and I went to the restroom. I took a seat to check for other possibilities and laid my black plastic phone on the black plastic toilet paper dispenser, since my wife nearly always manages to call at awkward moments. She didn’t that time, though. A few minutes later, I was looking at something in the magazine section, when the black guy who’d walked there began looking at the rack behind me. I politely asked, “Sir, do you need me to move my cart so you can look at the rack better?” He never looked up and he never responded, though I already KNEW he wasn’t deaf. He soon moved over in front of me and then moved on. Guys like him are why some folks still use the “N-word” and why they become prejudiced.
In a few minutes, I went back and looked through the sporting goods stuff. As I sometimes do, I was looking to see if anything was American made. Stanley vacuum bottles were all from China (as are their once fine tools). At first, I thought Thermos brand was American made, but then I found a tiny little sticker on the bottom that said “made in China.” So it was with Zebco and Shakespeare products. Remington’s and Hoppe’s liquid products were American made, but theirs and Outers accessories were all Chinese. All the Real Tree and other camo products by other brands were all Chinese, also. I THINK all the firearms and reloading supplies were American made, though I didn’t check the firearms. The smaller Energizer batteries on sale there to power some of the outdoor gadgets were American made, but the larger sizes were made in Indonesia. Even though I can’t stand any sport that requires a ball or a puck, I checked Wilson products out of curiosity. Every one that I picked up was made in China.
You know, I’m old enough to have witnessed a lot of companies move their operations overseas to cut costs, but NOT ONE TIME did I ever see them pass that savings on to the customer. It was always about corporate profits and the hell with American workers. I think that greed is already catching up with those companies, since poor Americans can no longer afford to buy their foreign products. Even China is feeling the impoverishment from people not buying their production. It’s tempting to blame only the companies, but the truth is, the situation has also been caused by American consumers willing to buy the foreign stuff, until it’s THEIR job that ends. THEN, they scream bloody murder!
Before we left, my wife asked me if I’d brought my phone, because she’d tried to locate me. Forgetful old geezer that I am, I told her that I’d apparently left it at home. When we got home and unloaded our meager purchases, we called the store and someone had turned my phone in, so I went and picked it up. Being grumpy is not a good thing, I suppose, but being old and feeble-minded is even worse. My wife will be hounding me about my phone for a couple months now, maybe because this is about the fourth time I’ve pulled this stunt. Sigh! © 2016