Our Epic Adventure in Wal-Mart

So, on the first night of Spring Break, Jeffrey decides he needs a new bathing suit in order to project the proper image for his lifeguarding class. The only "water pants" [classic comment by Holly...been a long time since last summer, you know, and she couldn't remember what they were called !!!!) that we could find at home to fit him belonged to Chris, and that apparently would have been "weird."

Thus, we headed out to Wal-Mart on Monday evening in search of outrageously cool water pants. [wait. I am lying. Outrageously cool water pants would not be found at Wal-Mart. We went to Kohl's first, and THEN to Wal-Mart for some goggles and some snacks to eat at lifeguarding class. Sorry.] While we are at Wal-Mart, Jeffrey announces that he is interested in purchasing some spray paint with which to explore a new genre of artistic expression, the like of which could only be found on YouTube, a media source which has now taken over the education of our children. Jeffrey had actually shown me several videos of this guy who paints these unbelievably gorgeous landscapes, seascapes, and space-scapes entirely with spray paint. I was amazed by it, and being the hip mom that I am, always promoting my children's creative endeavors, I stood there in the spray paint aisle and picked out colors with him.

We debated the pros and cons of flat, satin, and gloss finishes for Jeffrey's masterpiece. He said that he was feeling like painting "time and space" and so we chose colors that might reflect this sort of cosmic scenery --Midnight Black, Solar Blue, Orange Flame, etc.. I suggested that he might try a metallic color for a sparkly spray of intergalactic stardust or something. We had a fun time, mother and son, bonding amongst the aerosol canisters.

When we arrived at the checkout line, Jeffrey suggested that he could buy the spray paint with his own money. It was less than $10 worth of stuff, but do you know of ANY mother that would deny a teenage child the privilege of paying for ANYTHING for themselves if they offer? So, I agreed, in a loud enough voice for the cashier to recognize that I was such a great mother that I was teaching my teenager fiscal responsibility in a time of economic crisis. I moved the spray paint to the front of the conveyor belt and put the divider bar between the cans and the rest of my purchases, which included a multi-pocketed garment bag for Gordon to take on his trip to Chicago the next day. I explained to the cashier, directly this time, that Jeffrey would be paying separately.

And that is where the trouble began. The cashier, Betty, was, shall we say, the very embodiment of everything that makes Culpeper, well, Culpeper. She reluctantly began to check out Jeffrey's items, while eyeing him suspiciously through very large and outdated glasses. For some reason she seemed anxious, and grimaced with each beep of the scanner. Finally, it became too much for her. Holding the last can in her hand, she burst out, " I'm sorry! I just cain't do this!"

"Do what?" I asked, confused at the whole situation.

Eyeing Jeffrey again, she said, "He just don't look 18 to me."

"That's because he is 16," I replied, suddenly feeling defensive, "is that a problem? It is just paint."

She babbled on about being able to card him if he wanted to buy cigarettes, but for something like THIS! (waving the can of metallic paint over her head) No, it was too big of a chance! She could get into so much trouble for something like THIS!

I was so done with THIS. "What are you talking about?" I said. "He is making an art project. He wants to buy the paint. He is paying with cash. I am his mother. What exactly is the problem here?"

"It is THIS one," Betty said, waving the can of metallic paint again. "THIS one is the one that THEY sniff." She looked at Jeffrey again, who in disbelief, by now was looking kind of ill.

OK. That did it. "Look." I spoke calmly. "My son is not going to sniff the paint. If it will make you feel better, I will buy it. Put it all together on my bill. That way you don't have to worry about getting into any trouble, OK?"

Betty was clearly in an ethical dilemma, and in great distress from the top of her bleached head to the bottom of her stout little frame. "I just don't know. I just don't know," she repeated," If I know he's gonna use it...I sold a movie to a girl the other day...not one of those REAL bad ones you know, but bad enough, and she wasn't old enough, and her dad said she could buy it, but I STILL got in trouble...I just don't know..." As if in answer to the poor woman's prayer, a manager walked up at this point. "Can I do this?" Betty pleaded in utter moral peril, and explained the situation as best she could. It felt like we were on trial for a crime we didn't commit. At one point, I interjected, "I am 42, if that helps anything, and I am actually thinking that my lawn furniture needs a new coat of paint. I just want to buy some paint, if that is at all possible." I honestly didn't have much hope at that point.

Permission was granted, and Betty continued scanning, still flustered. When she got to the garment bag, her stress level began to rise again. "Oh dear!" she sighed, "We just received a new procedure for this. It's called L.I.S. A. P.--Look In Side All Pockets. Now I have to do that too!" She meticulously began to unzip all the pockets inside and out of the garment bag, periodically eyeing us from behind those large spectacles as she worked. " You are a good worker, " I complimented, "We certainly don't want you to get into any trouble." But Betty was not to be won over. "I still don't think I should have done it. But you are his mom and they said it was OK. What else can I do?"

"You've done all you could do," I reassured her, secretly wishing we had stuffed a few more cans of metallic spray paint into the pockets of the garment bag for her to find. That might have killed her though. "It is too bad we live in a world where you have to be worried that everyone is doing something wrong. I promise he is making an art project. You don't need to worry."

When we got to the car, Jeffrey was without words. "Mom," he said. "I feel like the life has been sucked out of me." It was just too much for him to think that someone thought that he would do something so wrong. He also commented, "Betty is a person, Mom. A person. This is freaking me out. This is her JOB! This is what she worries about. I just can't talk about it anymore. It's outrageous (the new word)." Of course, we talked about it all the way home.

The next day, Jeffrey and his friend Ivan created some of the most amazing artwork! They wore safety masks the whole time. I was so proud.

Time and Space

by Jeffrey Thelin

I think we should frame one and give it to Betty. The look on her face might make it all worthwhile.

P.S. Jeffrey is now a LIFEGUARD!!! (and he has really cool water pants!)