“Yep, we really must go to Big Lots this morning if you want that new recliner,” I announced over the phone at 6:45 am this morning. My grandson was making all the usual “I-refuse-to-wake-up” noises. (It would be useless to try to write out the sounds and exasperating groans).
“Why today?” he grumbled.
“Because they are $100.00 off, but it has to be today,” I answered. I knew he really wanted that recliner. We had been watching a favorite resale shop for a used recliner, but my ever-vigilant sister had warned about a new threat of bedbugs in used furniture. (I don’t know how valid a concern that is.)
His desires got the best of him, he met me at the trusty ole’ 81 Chevrolet in 10 minutes, and we were on our way. (I didn’t even have my gown bundled up under the my sweatshirt.) He noticed the traffic around us on the road, and a realization came over him.
“This is Black Friday!” he exclaimed. “I said I would never go out on Black Friday ever since you sent me for pie crusts at Walmart that year.” He went into a play-by-play account of his narrow escape from all the people and autos that day. There was something about his having to squeeze through some openings with people going in all directions…I didn’t quite get what he was trying to tell me…thought it best not to have him explain. He had been gracious enough not to question my sanity about sending him for pie crusts in the first place.
We made it to Big Lots, and surprise, there were only three people ahead of us in the furniture department. My grandson knew one of the customers as his former teacher in high school. Being the social creature he is, he immediately struck up a conversation with her. He talked and talked, she talked and talked, and helped him pick out the best recliner for him before she chose one for herself.
I wanted to shout at him, “This is not how you do this! You grab the one you think might be the one you want, sit in it immediately to claim it, while you are looking at the other less-desirable ones around it to make sure you have the right one.” Both he and his former teacher seemed oblivious to the rules of a hot sale. They kept talking.
“What’s wrong with her?” I wondered silently. I knew he didn’t know any better as he avoided these social exercises in greed/necessity. But she should know better. I squirmed uncomfortably, not wanting to show my true colors.
“Hey, should we bring these tags up to the register?” she yelled across the room to the salesperson. “Are they the only ones you have?” I relaxed as he said there were plenty in the back. Yep, she knew the rules. No need to hurry and make a fool out of oneself. And if there were plenty in the back, it would be unnecessary to tackle some little old lady who could only afford a recliner on her Social Security check on Black Friday.