Hell-R-Us

I can't believe I've made it this far into my career as a mommy without blogging about Toys-R-Us or "Hell-R-Us" as I dubbed it many moons ago.

It's not all that bad.  At least I don't think so.  A toy store can't be inherently evil, can it? If it hasn't been done already somebody could make a boatload of a cash with that horror movie plot.  I expect residuals.

Anyway, I really have never been able to put my finger on why I hate going there.  Maybe it's because, as a toy store, and the stuff my dreams were made of when I was a kid, it should be a uniquely magical experience every time I step through the front doors.  It should smell like cotton candy.  The floors should shine like glitter and I should hear angels singing on high. I guess, on some level, I resent that it's not anything like that. Maybe it's because it's just not as fun as it should be. Maybe it's because I'm ultimately selfish and I'm when I am there, I'm not shopping for myself.

But honestly, I don't think it's any of those things.

I think it's that I pride myself on being an efficient and effective shopper and Hell-R-Us is just a huge TIME SUCK.  I walk in there with a purpose and either walk out 3 hours later empty-handed or having spent $3,000 when I was planning to buy batteries.  Somehow I lose time and not in the good "I had waaaay too much fun last night" way.

I also think it's that the service isn't great. It's not exactly bad, just not great. There are many little things that simply don't add up to spectacular customer service. I went in earlier today to return a gift with a gift receipt. The young lady behind the counter told me to go find the replacement and come back. To make a long story short, the gift reciept wasn't for that item and the item wasn't even purchased there.  Not her fault.  Either it was totally my fault for mixing up receipts or the person who gave us the gift gave us the wrong receipt  but either way, she could've saved me endless wandering and searching if she'd simply checked the item when I walked in the door. 

Everyone is always eager to help me when I'm in there, which is wonderful. However, none of the employees seems to know much more about the store or any of the products therein than I do.  This is what happened today:

• Eager Employee: "Hello, miss can I help you?"
• Me: "Yes, please.  I'm looking for Thunder Tumblers."
• Eager Employee: "Oh, sure! I've actually never heard of them but I'd be happy to wander the aisles aimlessly with you and search.  Also, I've never used a computer so I couldn't possibly check to see if we have now or ever carried such a product."  (I am paraphrasing but you get the gist.)

That's pretty much how all of my interactions with Hell-R-Us employees seem to go.  Here is one from last year.

• Me: "Can you help me?  I'm looking for Lite Sprites."
• Eager Employee: "Oh, do you mean Light Bright?"
• Me: "No.  I used to have a Light Bright when I was a kid.  Not Light Bright.  Lite Sprites.  They are light up fairy dolls."
• Eager Employee: "Yeah.  No.  I've never heard of them.  I don't think we carry them."
• Me: "You do.  I checked the website.  I just can't find them in the store."
• Eager Employee: "Ok, hang on." (picks up the phone to call someone)
  "Hi.  I have a customer here looking for Lite Sprites... no, not Light Bright... Lite Sprites... uh-huh... ok." (hangs up)
  "She says they are by the bikes."
• Me: "I don't think that is right.  They aren't a bike accessory."
• Eager Employee:  "Yeah, I know, weird.  Let's go look by the bikes."

I won't bore you with the details but this went on like this for what felt like about 11 hours.  I don't remember if I bought any Lite Sprites, or Light Brights, or Bike Lights for that matter. I think I blacked out again.

So, we can agree that although the effort is there, the customer service is missing something.  (Yes. By reading I assume that you are in agreement and don't care to know otherwise.) I can't put my finger on what is missing. Is it knowledge? Is it forethought? Is it training?  What ever it is, something needs tweaking for sure. I certainly don't think I'd be any better at it.  It's tough to be an expert when there are LITERALLY a gazillion products to know. Which brings me to the next thing that makes the whole Hell-R-Us experience less-than magical for me.

It's the store layout.  There are, in fact, a gazillion products in there.  Don't argue. I counted. When I go there, I never know where to find anything.  If I'm looking for a toy from the movie "Cars," is it in the Disney section, the section with Cars or with the Fisher Price toys because that's who makes it? What if (shudder) it is an OUTDOOR Cars toy? Then where, I ask you, WHERE? One finds themselves zig-zagging all over the store. I'm usually on my lunch hour, therefore pressed-for-time, hungry and wearing heels. This makes me cranky. I could ask someone where to find said toy, but, as I've already illustrated, the employees would be eagerly wandering all over the place with me.  I don't need that kind of help.  I can wander aimlessly all by myself.  I'm quite good at it.

Plus it's hot as balls in there for no apparent reason.  Keeping the toys warm, I guess.

So, why go there?  Sometimes it's because there's a better price but, for me, that is rarely the reason. I'd rather pay a bit more online and save myself the aggravation.  Half the time the "sale" at Hell-R-Us is never what I expect it to be and I end up spending more anyway.

Sometimes going there is unavoidable.  My kids receive Gift Cards from people. Or gifts that need to be exchanged.  Stupid Geoffrey the Giraffe sends them a $3 Gift Card for their birthday. I tell my kids I'll pay them twice that as long as I don't have to go there and try to find a toy for $3 or less.  I hate that giraffe.  Spelling Geoffrey with a "G" is a douchey thing to do anyway - and if your name is Geoffrey with a "G, I'm sorry.  Not sorry I wrote it but sorry your parents suck.

Finally, sometimes, Hell-R-Us is simply the only game in town.  Amazon has an amazing selection and super-fast shipping but sometimes they don't have that very specific accessory or action figure for your child's collection and when it comes to my kids, I will endure Hell or Hell-R-Us, as the case may be, to see them smile.

Mortality

"Mortality".  Wow.  Funny title, right?  Not really.  I'm going to try to make light of a semi-serious subject but I'm feeling somber and am moderately inebriated so this post may end up in the trash.

I am having surgery next week. It's not elective or anything.  If it was, at least I'd have a flat tummy or perky boobs to look forward to.  It is totally minor and not a big deal but I'm still kind of freaking out.  It's weird for me because I'm a "tough cookie", as they say.  Who the hell came up with that anyway?   I've never had a tough cookie in my life. Stale, maybe, but tough, never.

As I was saying, it's weird for me to feel scared about this. It is so NOT a big deal. Many people have been through so much worse that it is not even funny. But, the thing is, I've never been in the hospital to do more than have my kids and going in for that is wonderful, despite the bloodbath and agony, that is. When you are going in for that, you have many things to look forward too, such as 1.) not being pregnant any more  2.) cute little pink babies  3.)  not being a ginormous bloated whale anymore, etc. It's like going in for new boobs.  There's a light at the end of the tunnel.

I guess there's a light this time too. I get to not have something wrong with me anymore.  Yippee!  Some how it is not as much of a motivator as perky boobs or pink babies but it's something and, regardless, it's necessary.

I've never been under anestesia before. I hear good things and, frankly, I could use the rest.  However, there's that little nagging voice in the back of my stupid head saying "you know some people die, right?"  Shut up! Logically, I know that the statistics are teeny tiny and that most of those people have other health issues causing complications but, still, the voice remains. I don't think I'd care so much about not waking up if I didn't have two little people who are expecting me to come home from the hospital. When I think about that,  I realize that moms are a twisted breed. Do we really think so little of ourselves that our only reason for living is those little snot factories that can't put their underwear on properly without our assistance? Yes. Yes we do.

The other thing bugging me is that my ability to carry a child will be affected. That shouldn't bother me. I'm done having babies. My husband is very much in agreement that we are done having babies.  When I told him my concerns, he immediately asked if I planned to remarry. I told him I wanted to keep my options open.  That didn't go over too well. Of course, I'm kidding but I always thought that my ability to have kids would go the natural way of things.  Again, I am well aware that I am dually blessed with two beautiful children and that there are so many people that aren't as lucky as I am but there's that nagging voice again.  I hate that voice.  That voice is really annoying.

My point, if I even have one, is that this little stupid surgery has caused me to confront my own mortality and it sucks.  I much prefer living in la la land where everything is good and I think I'm going to live forever.  I still plan to live forever.  I am going to silence that stupid little voice or die trying.  Ha!   But, if by some million to one chance, I don't wake up from the anestesia, please take pity on my husband and offer to babysit or something.  He'll need all the help he can get.

I'm sure, in a week, I'll be wondering what I was worried about.  I'm sure the anestesia will nothing more than a really good nap and I'll be feeling right as rain in no time.  Hey, maybe I'll check back in for new boobs one of these days after all.

The Juggling Act

As a parent, I spend most waking moments attempting anticipate and meet all the needs of my tiny overlords. Typically, I pride myself on being a exceptional toadie; breakfast ready before their highnesses awake, clothes laid out in the morning, each meal served with a generous helping of ketchup. But, as it turns out, I am human. I have quite a lot of balls in the air. Some are rubber, some are glass. It's inevitable that I'm going to drop one and I only hope, that when I do, it's not a breakable one.

I dropped one earlier this week and I didn't even know it until the next morning when my daughter told me that I forgot to pack her a snack for a library visit with Grandma. Mom FAIL. Technically, I just didn't pack a drink because there was still a box of cheese crackers in the bag. When my daughter told me about it, it seemed innocuous enough. She said "Yesterday, you forgot to pack my snack for the library so Grandma took me to A&P and got me a juice box and fruit snacks!" The way she relayed it, it sounded like it was an adventure. Seemed like a rubber ball. Phew.

The rest of the day was fun-filled. We put up some Christmas decorations, I did some baking, we went to the diner for dinner and the kids sampled the treats I made. About 10 minutes after they were snug in their beds, I heard my daughter calling me. I went in her room and she was sitting up looking like she was about to cry. When I asked what was wrong she said, in the most heart-breaking voice imaginable:

"Will you give me anything AT ALL to eat tomorrow?!"


Freeze. Isolate this moment. If anyone saw or heard just this phrase and how it was delivered, they would think that I had her locked in her room all day with some stale bread and water. This is a kid fresh off a huge dinner of diner grilled cheese, fries and juice followed by handmade chocolates from mom's kitchen! Not some orphan from a Dickens story!!!!

She began to cry and it took me about 15 minutes to calm her down. The impetus for her crying fit was the fact that I forgot her snack the day before. I think, in her busy little brain, she started thinking that maybe it wasn't an accident, after all. Maybe I didn't give it to her on purpose and she was heart-broken at the thought that her evil-witch-of-a-mother withheld her snack in some kind of punishment attempt.

So much for a rubber ball. Hopefully this glass one is only cracked. However, I have a feeling that won't be the last I hear about "the forgotten snack heard 'round the world". About a year from now, we'll go to a library and she'll say, "Hey! Remember the time you forgot my snack and I cried and cried and cried."

It just goes to show how fragile their tiny little psyches can be and makes me fearful for the times that I'm NOT on my best mom behavior and say things like "Why would you do something that dumb?!" and "If you don't listen to me right now you're going to be in time-out forever!".

I must say, the crying fit was a brilliant move on her part. I can almost guarantee I won't forget her snack again. EVER! Way to whip mom into shape!

Tiny Overlord "1" --- Toadie Mom "0".