It's not possible

Hey, kids. It's been a whole week. Yeah, I know. Been a Tad Exhausted lately. I don't want to get in to it. That's not to say that it is not possible...

Hence the headline. I was shopping with Ms Information the the other day at a local Target. Now I prefer shopping at Target much more than Wal-Mart because shopping there makes me feel like I'm in, how do you say, a first-world country. It's clean, and the merchandise is on the shelf instead of the aisleway, typically near it's price marker.

We were looking for a particular make and model of a bike trailer in which to haul our knee-biters around the neighborhood. We were looking for the "Quick 'n Lite (sic)", which has a feature set we desired, but all they had on the shelf was the "Quick 'n EZ (sic again)" model, which was on the lower end and therefore out of the question. There was only an empty spot on the shelf where the object of our desire would have been right at home, waiting to go home with a good family.

(By the way, don't get me started about the dumbification of the English language in product names. That's an entirely different rant in which I'll likely contribute to the problem. And while I'm at it, by the way, also don't get me started on insipid text messaging abbreviations like "BTW".)

There are no red-shirted clerks around - and that is what they are, don't give me this sales associate bullshit. So I find the nearest kiosk with a customer service phone, which when I picked it up, told me that someone will arrive at the phone within 60 seconds to assist me. Pretty cool, methinks. However, it was a little less cool when I had to call again 5 minutes later.

But then "James" the clerk came sauntering up the aisle with no particular sense of purpose. He was a slight young man with bushy scraggly hair and jaw hanging agape. I couldn't tell if he was coming to help me - there was no one else around - or just aimlessly wandering, waiting for his shift to end. I was a bit surprised when he actually stopped and offered to help.

I led him to the empty space on the shelf and asked if he could find out if they had any "Quick 'n Lite" trailers in the back. I spent a moment pointing out that it was not the same as the "Quick 'n EZ", but as I was telling him this I could tell that I was overwhelming him with information about the products that his store is in business to sell to me. He wrote down the info from the price marker in front of the empty shelf space and disappeared.

About five minutes later he reappeared to tell me that, no, they did not have any more in the back. I already half-expected this answer, as stores never have anything in the back. Most stores, in fact, do not even have a back. But the look on his face was, well, not there. There was absolutely no look on his face. He was a simple zombie looking at me as is if he was looking through me. I knew he didn't want to be there. I knew he probably had just gone to the back to take a quick hit off a bong. I knew that another question would make his eye twitch, or maybe cause him to wet himself as he stood there otherwise perfectly motionless.

So I decided to press my luck - just for entertainment purposes, like betting on a longshot with found money.

"Do you know when you might get more in?" I queried, bracing myself.

"No, that would be IMPOSSIBLE TO FIND OUT" he replied, still gazing through me.

Impossible. I was aghast at the word he used. Perhaps it is because I believe that there is little that is truly impossible. Cold fusion. Travelling faster than the speed of light. Dropping toast and having it land peanut-butter-side-up. But certainly not this. I thought for a second.

"Ah well, thanks for checking".

I thought for a moment and realized that he was right. It WAS impossible for him. It was impossible because he just didn't give a shit. Stupid puke kid. Made me, would you believe, a Tad Annoyed.

But to my surprise, he offered a potentially helpful suggestion:

"Perhaps you could try checking at another Target store, they often carry the same stuff"

I thought again. Hey, dickweed, thanks for nothing. I already know you are not capable of accessing any inventory computer you have back in the employee hooka lounge. So I don't suppose you know how to operate a telephone and call a couple local stores for me to see if your own suggestion is even worthwhile. Of course I did not say this to his face, this is why I have this blog.

Nevermind, James. I think I'll go check at Wal-Mart.