a malt milkshake and breezy banter

From time to time I throw out our toilet bowl brushes and plunger because they touch dirty toilets and thus completely gross me out and must be replaced. I threw them all out on Monday and so on Tuesday I went to Walmart to replace them.

Two things you need to know - I hate Walmart and I am a bit embarrassed to be seen buying a plunger. A plunger is just one of those items that ANNOUNCES what you plan to do with it. Like condoms. Or tampons. I have no problem with strangers knowing I have sex and periods. But carrying condoms to the register (which I haven't done in years, thank google) feels like an announcement that I AM GOING TO HAVE SEX. RIGHT NOW. AS SOON AS I GET TO THE PARKING LOT, IN FACT. Same with tampons. LOOK EVERYONE! RIGHT NOW, AT THIS MOMENT, I AM MENSTRUATING. Even if I'm not, I feel like everyone thinks I am. I recover from these moments by reminding myself that everyone has sex and that periods are a natural and for the most part unavoidable part of womanhood.

But a plunger? A plunger says I DUMP SO MUCH SHIT THAT MY TOILET CAN'T HANDLE IT. (Actually, I just need a plunger because the plumbing in our house is somewhat pathetic what with the lack of water pressure and all. And see? Now I'm justifying the plunger purchase to all of you because I AM THAT EMBARRASSED about it.)

So of course I couldn't find the goddamn plungers at Walmart and was forced to ask someone where they were. "Excuse me, can you help me? I dump so much shit that my toilet can't handle it. And so I need a plunger. Where can I find them?" HARDWARE is where you find plungers at Walmart. FYI.

I got in line, trying to hide the plunger as best I could in the cart. Eventually it was my turn and the cashier swiped all my items. But the plunger, which she had saved for last, didn't have a fucking barcode on it. And I had no idea what its price was. The cashier was a young thing who did not speak English well at all. This wouldn't have been a problem except that when she paged for assistance, no one knew what the hell she was saying and so no one came to help. She paged again. Nothing. The register light was blinking, the people behind me were shifting their weight impatiently, no one was coming to help and OMG people could see that I was buying a plunger! You'd think the people behind me in line would desert and switch to another register, but they didn't. The line just got longer and longer. I was just about ready to run over to hardware myself and drag someone back when the cashier down the row took pity on us and paged for help herself. Immediately someone from hardware called my cashier's phone. She picked up and said, "I need to know the price of...of..." and then she looked at me and asked, "What is this?"

"A plunger," I whispered.

"A what?"

"A plunger," I said just loud enough for her, and only her, to hear.

"A blooner?"

"PLUNGER," I said a bit louder, SO ashamed.

"PLOONBER?" It was like we were in that "Nuni" SNL skit. I said plunger and she said something else that sounded NOTHING AT ALL like plunger.

"PLUN-GER." This time everyone in my line plus everyone in the lines next to me heard me announce that I was buying a PLUN-GER, A THINGY THAT SUCKS SHIT.

"Plooonger," she said into the phone. But the hardware dude didn't understand her (big surprise). So she thrust the phone in my face.

I brought the receiver to my ear and said quietly, "Hi. We need a price check on a plunger." Notice the WE. I am not necessarily the one buying the plunger, Mr. Hardware Department Dude. WE need a price check.

"Red or black?"

"Red," I muttered.

The cashier grabbed the phone back from me and we waited for the dude to price check my plunger. Then he recited to her the 50+ digit UPC number through the phone. Very sloooowly. And she typed in each number and then repeated each number back to him. Very sloooowly. And guess what? Item not found. So they did the whole damn thing over again. Even more sloooowly. And surprise! Item still not fucking found. At this point, he apparently told her just to enter the price ($1.97), which she did and then hung up. But the register then required that she enter a name for the mystery item that cost $1.97. So she asked me to SPELL IT. I shit you not, she fucking asked me to spell plunger. I looked around for the cameras then, indeed I did. Because this does not happen in real life. This only happens when someone is making a concerted effort to embarrass you for a television show.

So there I was, spelling plunger IN FRONT OF EVERYONE while she typed in the letters. Very slooowly. P. L. U. N. She typed M instead of N and I corrected her. She deleted it all and we started over. P. L. U. N. (She couldn't find the goddamn N key so I hit it myself because at this point I was leaning over the register in a useless attempt to prevent anyone but her from hearing me.) G. E. R.

The register accepted this, and I quickly swiped my card and got the hell out of there, with the $1.97 plunger but without any remnant of dignity intact whatsoever.