Friday, March 10, 2006


Today started out as a normal day. I woke up around 11 am, had coffee and a bagel, checked my email, got about 3 or 4 consecutive calls from my mother then went to shower so I could run errands. I grabbed everything I needed for my errand spree: sweater to drop off at the dry cleaners, coupon and diploma to take to the frame shop, dress to get a price adjustment on and prescription to refill at Target, and so on. I hit the pavement, stopping at the framing shop, dry cleaners, Barnes and Noble, and Bed Bath and Beyond. My last stop was Target. I had two tasks to complete in the store: first, get my sister's cat's prescription refilled. He takes Thyroid pills, which I happen to find ridiculous and maintain that putting him to sleep is the cheaper alternative. He's had about 18 good years on this earth, and HAS to be on his 11th or 12th life by now. My second task was to get money back on a dress that I bought last Saturday and went on sale Sunday for $4 cheaper. $4 back on that + $5 back on the apron I also bought last week and for which I now had a coupon = my ticket to see Failure to Launch (new Sarah Jessica Parker and Matthew McConaughey movie) tonight with my sister!

First, I stopped at the customer service desk to handle the dress situation. I explained to the customer service lady that I had lost the receipt, but since the dress was on sale, could she look up the transaction on my debit card and give me money back? She said no. Then I asked if she could do a return on the dress and let me buy it back at the new price? She said she could return the dress, but I would have to go get another one from the floor and buy it back at another register. I told her there were no more of them. Then, she kind of shrugged her shoulders and said, "Well, without the receipt, there's nothing I can do."

Disgruntled, I put the dress back in my bag and headed off toward the pharmacy counter. I give the effeminate man behind the counter the pill bottle, and tell him I need to refill my cat's prescription (how embarrassing). He looks at the bottle, goes over to the computer and types in some stuff, then comes back to me and says "Ma'am, your cat isn't in our system, so
this is going to sound kind of silly, but you need to fill out a patient profile on him." We both laugh out loud at how absurd this is. He gives me the little notepad. Still laughing, I sign Pumpkin up for Target's pharmacy. The form looked like this when I finished it:

Name: Pumpkin
Sex: Pet
E-mail Address: n/a
Signature: a pawprint, followed by my signature

I give him back the form and we laugh some more. He tells me it will be about 20 minutes, and I go off in search of a recipe box. I find one and wander around the store a little longer before I decide just to park it at the pharmacy counter. When I get there, another pharmacist informs me that they are out the cat's pills, and unless I want to wait until Monday, I should try somewhere else.

I head back for my car and pass the customer service counter again. Noticing that there is a different lady working there now, I decide to try my luck again. Surely what I am asking them to do cannot be that hard.

I step up to the counter again and explain my dilemma. The girl tells me the same thing, that I would have to rebuy another dress because if they try to return then rebuy merchandise in the same transaction, the register will lock up. I explain that there are no more of these dresses, and if she'll return it, I offer to take my dress to one of the normal check out registers behind us to rebuy it. Clearly, I am perplexed at why I couldn't keep both the dress and the $4 I feel I am due. Luckily for me, there is a manager lurking nearby. She overhears the conversation and comes over to help the Target Team Member that is assisting me. With the ease it would have required if I had asked them to blink or breathe, the manager shows the girl how to complete the transaction, and in no time flat I am $4 richer and noticeably triumphant. I grab the dress, put it in the bag with my new recipe box, collect my new receipt and my purse and head for the door.

Halfway to my car, I start reaching in my purse for my keys. I dig and dig, and then when I get to my car, I take out the contents of my purse and line them up on my bumper so I can find my keys. Once I reach the bottom of my keyless purse, I check in my Target bag where my recipe box and dress are. No keys.

I turn around and head back INTO Target to retrieve my keys which I figure must be at the customer service desk. When I get there, I ask the girl if she had seen any keys. "Yes ma'am, there were some keys here, but I guess the customer after you took them 'cause they're not here now. I'm really sorry."

WTF? A lady just made off with my keys? Now fearing the safety of my car, I peek out of the doors to make sure it's still there. (At this point I should remind you [or inform you if you don't know me that well] that last summer my car was broken into. I still get angry just thinking about it.) Since my car and its contents do not
appear to be in any immediate danger, I dash back to the pharmacy counter, hoping maybe I left them there. No keys.

I almost start to cry. My sister and mother are both at work and unless I find my keys I will be stranded at Target until 5. I go back to the customer service desk where I just stand about 10 feet away, hoping to silently threaten the girl at the register with my presence. It works, because she begins looking for my keys around the register in what resembles a bob and weave maneuver. As she moves stuff around, she keeps apologizing to me.

Wondering if I should cry or panic, I do neither. I just stand there, clutching all of my stuff, with my eye on my car, which remains intruder-free. Deciding I have to take some action or risk spending the night at Target, I approach the counter again. I ponder pitching a fit, but it's no one's fault but my own since I left my keys there.

The manager comes back over, probably wondering why I am still in the store, and the girl explains the problem to her. The manager summons someone named "AP" to the customer service desk. I suggest pulling up the customer's transaction and getting her name and looking her up in the phone book and calling her. By the time I get this suggestion out on the table, AP has arrived.

AP is the security guard at Target. I figure this out when I see his badges and black cop jacket. I am scared of him immediately. The manager briefs AP on the situation while I paw through all of my stuff again. I unfold the dress, in case my keys are bundled up in it. I even open my recipe box, in case my keys have decided they are embarrassed to be a part of this drama and are seeking refuge in the box. The keys are nowhere to be found.

I then start digging in my purse again, wordlessly proving to the Target Team how dedicated I am to finding my keys.
I dig around in it, and pull open all of the pockets in it even though I have already looked there when I was in the parking lot.

Well, any scientists that are reading this blog and looking to discover the mystery of the Black Hole in space need to investigate my purse also, since there must be an extension of the Black Hole in my purse. Because my keys have suddenly reappeared in the side pocket of my purse.

At this point I am too embarrassed to share this with the Target Team. I put all of my stuff back in my purse,
and trying to dig myself out of the hole I have created, I say to AP and the Target Team, "You know what? I'll call a ride, I have somewhere to be, if my keys turn up just hold onto them and I'll come back later." That probably would be the Target Team's worst nightmare.

AP foils my plan though, when in a voice so deep he makes Darth Vader sound like Minnie Mouse, he tells me to wait there. I debate what would be more embarrassing: getting arrested or kicked out of Target by AP, or admitting my error and leaving the store immediately.

I take everything out and lay it on the counter while the apologetic cash register lady looks on and tells me how AP has gone to pull up a picture of the customer after me to see if she is still in the store. I remove my wallet, cell phone, iPod, lip gloss and pen from my purse, leaving the purse empty. I flip it over and shake it. The keys fall out.

I fake my best surprised face and exclaim "THERE THEY ARE!" Now it is my turn to be the apologetic one. Luckily, the girl is very understanding. I grab everything that belongs to me and throw it in my Target bag. I race out of the store, praying AP doesn't catch me. They probably think I was trying to rob them or something, because you can't fake that kind of stupidity and why would anyone create so much drama for no reason?

I reach the safety of my car, hop in and flee the premises. On the way home, I decided I should wait at least two weeks before I go back in that store again, my picture is probably posted in the manager's office and burned permanently in AP's mind. Yikes.

Moral of the story: get a purse with less pockets.


  1. Crazy Lindsay. You need to get a job quick so you can hire a personal assistant to keep up with your stuff.

  2. This type of thing happens to me on a daily basis. It's terrible.

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