Picnic Tables and Credit Cards

In case you might be wondering what I have been up to ........ the week before a holiday weekend is intense ( not in tents ..... sorry, couldn't help it). What with the gall stone that plagues the life of HeWho mows, I have been carrying an extra load.

I took a solo ride through the park with my clip board. I noted any deficiency I saw and then set out to correct as much as I could prior to the weekend invasion. The main problem is and always will be, the lack of picnic tables. Not because we do not purchase and build them. No, it is more a case of vandalism and weather. Wood will eventually rot. Especially if it is hacked at with a hatchet or sustains some sizable burns from a table top grill. They collapse when you pull your camper over them .....

So, we had a bunch of tables hanging out by the barn (aka Fred Sanford's Emporium). They were in various states of dis-repair. HeWho collects junk would have burnt them and just bought new tables. However, HeWho was blessed with a thrifty wife. We made 5 good tables and I painted them and readied them for distribution. Then I mounted my trusty golf cart, paint brush in my hand and painted all the tables I could manage.

In between my table adventures, I mowed and weeded and dragged trash bags to the dumpster and picked up dog poop in the dog park. I cooked and cleaned and did laundry and all the things required of the homemaker. Then, yesterday, I looked at my hair, all shaggy and unruly and decided to treat myself to a morning adventure away from the confines of the campground.

Since everything seemed to be going along like clock work, it seemed like a good idea. I needed some items to stock the store and the soda machine, so off I went. I was cruising along the interstate, with little traffic to annoy me. I see an accident in the west bound lanes and congratulate myself on being in the east bound lanes. I hit every light green as I headed toward the hair salon and my hair dresser was sitting there, as if waiting for me!! I went straight to her chair and left not long after.

I breezed through the aisles of Walmart and fulfilled my list. Every register that was open had a line. Now, before you tell me to use the self check out ..... I can't. I have two separate (but equally important) orders in my cart. One is for my personal needs and one is tax exempt for the store. I have to have a cashier enter the secret code that only pertains to my campground. Upon completion of the transaction, I have to offer up my signature that proclaims all the items are for resale and will be taxed by me and paid to the appropriate agency.

I happened upon a lane that had only two carts ahead of me and they both had just a few items. They were gone before I finished stacking my tax exempt purchases on the conveyor belt. Everything was going my way, Karma was smiling on me, knowing I still had grass to mow.

I swiped my handy dandy credit card and loaded my bagged items into the cart for the trip to my vehicle and that is when the world as Walmart knows it ceased to be! The window read INVALID CARD. I swiped again with the same results. The cashier swiped two more times and got the same results.

Then we heard other cashiers say that none of the cards, debit or credit were working. A hush fell over the crowd of shoppers as I searched my purse frantically, hoping the memory of removing the checkbook I never used was not a real memory. No checkbook, but I came up with $92. My total was $117, including my donation of $5 to the Red Cross for the flood victims. Even if we took off the donation, I still did not have enough cash. Not to mention I still had another order on the belt.

The world stopped spinning on it's axis as the yellow vested CSM's were calling the next level of management for advice. I had eight boxes of ice cream sitting in the cart. I caught the eye of the CSM closest to me and asked if I should return them to the freezer and she looked at me with wild eyes and all but screamed, "I don't know!!" Um. I was just trying to help. Unlike other people who were leaving their carts full and walking away. Nice as I am, I would not be buying melted ice cream.

The cashier looked lost, so I told her to suspend the order and I would pay cash for my other items. I called HeWho loves to be a hero and told him of my plight. He just so happened to be talking to a camper headed my way and he sent the money with him. I stowed my personal purchases in my car and headed back in to wait. The ice cream was still bagged and in my suspended cart.

I always have a cooler in my trunk. It is a thick Styrofoam affair that my night crawlers are shipped in. If you get past the idea that worms once inhabited the cooler, it is a good transporter of frozen food. I fished out the bags with the ice cream and paid cash for them along with a bag of ice and made another trip to my vehicle to load them and ice them down. I admit that along the way I warned prospective buyers of the card situation. You would think the greeter would be telling people, but I suppose they were hoping for a quick fix to the problem. One gentleman surmised that ISIS was responsible for the cyber attack. He gave me a rather lengthy education about how things would happen. I just smiled and nodded.


I doubt a small Walmart, in a small town, in the middle of Missouri would be a target for ISIS. But, who knows? My money came (thank you to Craig and Cheryl!) and I paid and then headed home, having wasted at least an hour of my very valuable time. I did manage to mow all my turf and then some. Labor Day weekend waits for no one!