Monday, Monday

I'd take any Monday like this.

Would you rather be slammed until you can't breathe, or so slow you have to find something to look busy? Slammed is good.

For whatever reason, the moon's cycle, post-holiday, a church conference, whatever, the fates collided to make the post-July 4th weekend Monday a very busy night. Fortunately, regular registers all night. When the belt is full, I'm happy.

Six hours passes like a dream when you don't have time to think. That doesn't mean you don't have oddballs. Crying children, communication issues, strange questions. Last night must have been a record for "where do I find large packages of candy?" Past the cards and stationery. If you get to the bikes, you went too far. Imagine directions in real life like that:

• Past the school and the church, if you've come to the road construction, you've gone too far (Road construction in northern Arizona is just atrocious this time of year. 14 miles of hell on Interstate 17 yesterday, but I digress).
• Past the terrible twos and kindergarten. If you get to graduation, you've gone too far.
• Past the receptionist and two offices. If you get to the boring guy with the droopy mustache, you've gone too far (and Lord help you!).

Old guy brings a bunch of things to the register, including cheapo brand oil. At $145 a barrel, he's worried about the cost of a quart? But he was. It was stocked in two different places with two different prices. Difference, about 8 cents. But he wanted the cheaper price. As he's rambling on about oil and store pricing practices, the next gaggle of girls are chattering in Spanish. They don't notice their chocolate bars have fallen over their clothes, over the divider, into oil man's order. I've already completed his sale when I realize that chocolate bars are now on his receipt. Since I can't do a refund at my register anymore, I have to send him to customer service for his $2 back. If either group had paid any attention to their purchases, it wouldn't have happened. And if I had been any more comatose, oilman would have ended up with chattering ladies' PMS remedy!

Bags. Not paper or plastic, but cloth. From any store, but the common denominator is, they don't fit our bagging stations. So you try setting them up, wrapping the handles so they stay. They set off the self-check alarms because of their extra weight. They slow down the cashiers. The only way they work is if customers assist.

Wal-Mart brains could have devised a way to make this work before pushing an earth-friendly initiative. I hear we're gaining little flowery design logos and losing the hyphen/star in Wal-Mart. Frankly, lose the flowery stuff, the slogans, the marginal ... just keep focusing on saving people money.