Patience Pays Off

Let this be a lesson to all you foot-tapping, line hating, obsessively watch-checking Impatient Ians out there (or Impatient Irenes, I guess I should hold off on the sexist language- wouldn't want to offend the feminists. On that note, I probably have to include more ethnically diverse names like Inez... it is so hard to be politically correct these days). Being in no hurry whatsoever makes life a whole lot nicer. Because anecdote-sharing is what I do to convey a point, I will use a recent trip to my beloved Target to explain to you all, Aesop-fable style, why patience truly is a virtue.

Around noon, while en route to lunch with my parents, I popped into the Target pharmacy and dropped off a prescription that they informed me would be ready in an hour, at 1 (in case you all didn't know that an hour after noon was 1... okay fine, 13:00 military time). He apologized for the abnormally long wait time and I flashed an understanding smile and told him it was fine and I'd be back after lunch (as if he were one iota interested in my post-prescription drop off plans). Anyway, lunch happened, but I need not go into details about the meal as the events that occurred at the restaurant have absolutely no relation to the main purpose of the story.

When I returned to Target, the pharmacists' expressions coupled with the length of the line rivaling those at Disneyland rides indicated that they were running a bit behind. My patient personality along with being in no rush whatsoever made this no big deal for me. When my turn finally arrived, the pharmacist informed me, as I expected she would, that things were taking a bit longer than normal. Her expression then distorted into one that indicated she was bracing herself for yet another angry reaction, but I just shrugged and told her I'd come back. By the time I returned a few minutes later, they still needed more time, and I must have still appeared intimidating despite my extremely passive former reactions because the pharmacist took me aside, apologized as though she had just backed over my pet cat with her Hummer, and handed me multiple coupons for $3 off my next purchase. In all honesty, they probably should have saved this monetary method of begging for forgiveness for one of the many irate customers behind me, but hey, I'll take it!

Ummmm it'll be about five more minutes!?!?

So I just scored the equivalent of a gift card to my favorite store, and it doesn't end there. When they thought they finally had my prescriptions ready, it turned out that they overlooked one that my doctor had faxed in, so Heaven forbid, I had to wait a whole five minutes more. No big deal for me, but they still had this idea that my patience was about to reach the breaking point. Therefore, they waived my medication co-pays. Awesome.

Bull's Eye, Target!

A breed of creature closely related to the Oompa Loompa's of Willy Wonka's factory must be running the operations of Target stores. Maybe little orange people with bright red shirts. I'm convinced of it- how else would I feel magical shivers tingling up and down my spine as I pursue aisle after aisle of seemingly ordinary items? It's either Ooma Loompa cousins or twinkling fairy dust. There is no other explanation.

What enchantment makes me feel like a kid in a candy store (as the saying goes) when I walk between two walls lined with office products? I don't feel awash with waves of relaxation when surrounded by produce and other food while at grocery stores, so why does being beside a banana warm me up inside at Target? It's not as if Target is a one-of-a-kind, miraculous, novel idea of a store. Au contraire, consumers can opt out and head to Walmart, Kmart, whatever prefix followed by "mart" you can imagine. Yet Walmart seems like a trashy warehouse selling crap made against all labor laws by children in third-world countries and sold for dirt cheap. Target takes the Walmart concept and totally classes it up. I mean come ON, they even sell designer clothing now (though I never see anyone buy it...).

Generally while traveling abroad, I am so awestruck and absorbing my surroundings like a dried-out sponge eager for moisture that I cannot dedicate even one moment to missing things back home. There is one exception to this, however; the desire to make a shopping trip at Target somehow invades my excitement at being in a new place. Once again, I blame the Oompa Loompa relatives and their fairy dust (probably on loan from Tinkerbell).

It cannot be as simple as the focus on the color red, can it? When I think red, the first place my mind leaps is anger, Spanish bullfights and ketchup (yeah, I need to go to therapy). It's DEFINITELY not their creepy mascot dog. I'm sorry, but whatever "genius" in the marketing department who thought up that one should be fired on the spot. Why would you not pick a cute breed like a Jack Russel? What kid growing up could resist Wishbone's charms (no one, according to him)? Hopefully I didn't just date myself too much with that reference...

You cannot tell me that THIS is cuter than Wishbone??

It also can't possibly be their bull's eye logo- that thing just looks like a stationary Eye of Sauron. Certainly not an inviting image, yet I understand where they were going with that idea- right on Target prices, every time you shop there you get a bull's eye, yadda, yadda...

Whatever it is, I cannot get enough of my Target fix! If I go longer than two weeks without bursting through those automatic doors, I start jonseing worse than a heroin addict in rehab.