I had just gotten paid, and in my case that's significant. My paychecks are commission based, so in essence my bank account appears either totally broke, or rich for a day, depending on what day it is. So, I went to Target to improve my life, and make my efforts at home feel more meaningful. When a person goes to Target, they have an agenda, and a dream. Sometimes they leave with both; in really big white bags. There are geniuses in their corporate offices laughing about this, I'm sure. I walk past aisle after aisle of cleaning supplies, looking for just the right aisle. I'm seeking the one with the drain declogging agents. Its after the toilet paper aisle, and after the paper towel aisle, and mind you, those are two consecutive, and completely separate aisles. For a moment I notice these flashes of bright blue, red, and glowing flesh, bouncing off my retina from gigantic, and perfect flat screen televisions, over three hundred feet away. It's the electronics section. Three forceful and distinct times I consciously tried to focus on the red sale prices of the end caps on my right, before I realize the images are from a favorite film. I fight it because I'm on an important mission, and can't afford this distraction.
Ah, my aisle, scanning, scanning. 2/3 the way down, second shelve from the bottom, I find them. They have 8 different brands of drain declogging fluids. My sink is not a frequent problem, so I'm not professionally versed in which chemicals are most effective at breaking down my hair-soap-food-and-whatever sludge that's apparently solidified into a cork, so I read. It's boring. And gross. And boring. Tom Hanks' voice appears in my head for some reason, mostly likely because he'd probably be able to make this situation a lot more palatable if he were scripting it with me in real life. I play the eenie-meenie game and choose the one in my left hand, and head straight for the electronics. Dreading the slippery, stink, I'm probably going to be fishing out when I get home, I consider a well deserved treat. And I just know Tom's wit is waiting for me just a few more aisles away, near the soft glowing perfection, still dancing on my retina.
I casually stroll the new releases, occasionally glancing at the 12 monstrous, and synchronized screens, and chuckle quietly to myself. I hold a copy of the new Wonder Woman release, and try to justify the 29 dollars it requires to own it forever. Reason comes over me, and guides me to the older releases, and then to the 5 dollar overstock. I know that with patience a little time will devalue that epic heroine of mine. I had set the declogging agent down somewhere a few feet away, and went back to pick it up. I see Mr. Hanks. Tom is looking at me from the bottom shelf, grinning permanently from the cover of "the Burbs". I smile back because its Tom, and also because I probably already have that one at home, so we're kind of like friends, or maybe even family at this point. I don't know. I see a child with her mother walk past with a copy of Wonder Woman, and guilt starts to come over me. I passed up on the most significant film by women in history, and my lifelong heroine, for a discount. I discount because I shouldn't be buying any more movies to begin with. Tom Hanks isn't even my friend and I'm still thinking about his wit in this situation. I can imagine him peeking around the corner and nibbling on a baby corn as 12 year old from Big, or jumping out and dancing in that ridiculous pumpkin-pimp outfit, freeze, and bark at me, "Any Questions??" I take my sludge chemicals and my leave, in a near huff. Screw you, David S. Pumpkins. You won't draw me in today.
What did she say she needed again? Oh yes. The household section. That's past the clothing, and the baby furniture, just before the stemware and crock-pots. Basically, I need to do a full loop through the whole store. This is another Target miracle, or trick. If you need two items, rest assured, the stock people predicted your needs to perfection just yesterday, and they worked all through the night to arrange the store in such a way that your two items are on opposite ends. They are that ruthless. I pause a moment. Tools. Let's just have a look. There's always something missing at the house. What did we need last time we tried to fix something? Hmmmmm. My stroll is slow, confident, and casual. I'm just taking stock of their inventory is all. I wrap around the rear endcap, and continue up the second aisle. Another man is there, crouched, touching a hammer. He takes a partial practice swing. Silently, I judge him, "you don't buy your hammer here." My scoff is nearly audible. Its certainly visible, so I hope he wasn't giving me sideeye as I pass him. Nevertheless, my confidence abides. This place is for 3:1 oil, or air freshener, not real tools. My pace quickens and I leave the Target tool section.
Did you know that Target makes their own wine???
Anyway, I am off to get that thing. What did she want again? Oh yes. Lightbulbs. For a moment, I consider new drawer hardware, handles, and pulls, and things, because I remember she said she doesn't like the ones that came with the house, and it would be a nice surprise. But I decide to wait. There are at least four other things in this section that create the same thought process of maybes, whatifs, betternots, and I almost forget the lightbulbs. Almost, until of I see them of course. I nearly run to them to avoid further distraction. The wattages, the efficiency levels; they're even more confusing than the 20 or so various chemicals listed on my sludge declogger. But I know they need to match so I inhale deeply, slowly and try to focus my energy on our light situation. I got it! I'm up. I'm successful, and I can get out of here without wasting the whole paycheck. I have beaten back Target's barrage of manipulative arsenal, and located my targets, extracted them from the enemy lines, and I'm going to get out alive.
Heading back toward checkout, completing my loop, a sign hovering over a tucked away nook of the store caught my attention. It just reads "Meaningful". I try not to get curious, but I've never seen this section, and there are so many happy human faces leaving that area. There are photos on the wall of very clean, successful, and joyful people. They're in the sunshine, with plants and flowers, and gazing at one another. And why don't I even know what this meaningful section is? Or when they installed it. Or just how long I've been missing out on the real gem of this home grown store. I clutch my two items tightly with each hand, so that there's no room to grasp for more. No risk of misplacement. I hold them with the intent of not touching anything. I will not touch. I'm just going to look. One of the oversized photos of the beautiful people, twirling in nature is staring at me, with a quote. Welcome to your meaningful life! I couldn't help it. I thought, partially outloud, "you really can buy everything here". I pondered sincerely and smiling until I rounded the corner.
It was just the photo printing section with a new dazzling face.
Disgruntled, and still thinking about Gal Gadot, and her frustration at a persistent war, and her furious love, I went back to electronics. I bought Wonder Woman. I checked out. I won. I lost. And then I returned home, watched Wonder Woman, and I cried during No Man's Land for the 6th time. One of these days, I'll be as strong as her, and beat back the Target army of consumerism. But not today. Today is for Wonder Woman and she's worth every goddamn penny.
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