Cliff Ross went to Walmart to buy a can of Folger’s. He approached the sliding doors that said Exit, but they opened anyway.
“Well hey there,” smiled the greeter, who was pushing carts into three crooked lines when Cliff Ross walked into the front room. The greeter was about Cliff Ross’s father’s age, but was a woman. “How are you this afternoon?”
Cliff Ross smiled a little bit with the corners of his mouth at the greeter, but he didn’t say anything to her. He knew it wasn’t her fault, but he wished that he could go into public without having his privacy invaded. It seemed indecent. He walked through the front room into the more Walmart part of the Walmart, which was just another big room, and passed an advertising display of Pop Tarts being offered in a new holiday flavor. He thought he might buy some for his son, Ronnie Ross, who had just recently turned 13, and was now permitted by state law to ride the bus home alone in the afternoons. On a couple of occasions over the past week, Cliff Ross’s wife had mentioned buying Ronnie Ross some easy to prepare snacks for after school in case he got hungry while she and Cliff Ross weren’t around. Cliff Ross decided to let her buy them instead.
“I’m going to buy Folger’s,” Cliff Ross thought.
Cliff Ross looked at the descending, numbered plastic signs that overhung the row of aisles stretching out in front of him. The first sign was emblazoned with the number 14. “That’s stupid,” Cliff Ross said aloud. “They should start at 1.” Underneath the numbers on each sign, there had been printed a list of things that could be found in that aisle. In aisle 14, for example, Cliff Ross saw that he could find Frozen Vegetables, Frozen Pizzas, Frozen Dinners. “No,” Cliff Ross said. He read the sign that said 13. He didn’t know it before he read the sign, but he quickly realized that he didn’t want Canned Beans, Canned Vegetables, Canned Soup, Canned Meat either.
A black man in a blue vest and khakis passed Cliff Ross going the other direction.
“Hey,” Cliff Ross shouted. The man stopped and smiled at Cliff Ross sincerely before crossing the large pathway to approach him. “I’m looking for Folger’s.”
“Our coffees are in aisle 7, sir,” the man smiled. He pointed down the way in the direction of aisle 7.
Cliff Ross smirked at the man and descended further down the row of aisles. “That’s more like it,” Cliff thought. “Didn’t ask my name or nothing. Didn’t ask how I’m doing. Didn’t ask me nothing. Just gave me what I want.”
When he got to aisle 7, Cliff Ross read the list on the sign hanging over his head and saw Coffee, Tea, Dried Beans, Spices. Without entering, he peered down the lane and saw two women with shopping carts looking at beans and spices, and a man about his age wearing a faded denim work jacket looking at coffee. Cliff scanned the items on the shelves and saw six or seven different styles of packaging that each contained coffee.
Cliff Ross laughed. “There can’t be that many kinds of coffee,” he said to whomever was listening. The man in the denim jacket looked at him without saying anything. Cliff Ross walked down the aisle and gazed at the different containers of coffee, immediately disregarding the ones in bags. He saw coffee by Walmart’s “Great Value” brand and cringed, entirely unintentionally, and right afterward decided that he didn’t want Maxwell House, either. After about thirty seconds or so, when he saw the red tub of Folger’s, he became unsure whether he wanted the smaller pack or the “Value Pack”.
“They’ll get you with the sizes,” Cliff Ross said to the man in the denim jacket, who had looked at him earlier when he’d addressed the overwhelmingly vast selection of coffee in the aisle. The man looked at him again.
“Yeah,” the man said with a genuine tone of voice. “I always go for the big pack. Gonna drink it all anyway.”
“You ain’t wrong,” Cliff Ross said pensively after he thought about it. “I usually just think about how long it’ll be till the next time I’m aiming to go to town.”
The man looked at Cliff Ross again and stuck out his hand. “Andy Wolz.” Cliff Ross looked over at the hand, looked up at Andy Wolz’s face, and looked back at Andy Wolz’s hand. He shook it.
“Cliff Ross,” Cliff Ross said. “Whereabouts you from?”
“Born and raised right here in Casey,” Andy Wolz said, and he tucked his hands into his pockets. “I’m an old-timer. Went to Christ Hill elementary till they closed it down in ‘61.”
“I’ll be. You got any kinfolk here?” Cliff Ross asked.
“The Douglases and the Moberlys, directly,” Andy said.
The two sat in a profound silence for a little while until Cliff Ross finally, decisively, picked up the “Value Pack” of Folger’s. He looked at Andy Wolz and said, “Nice knowing you, Andy Wolz. Have a good one.” Andy Wolz nodded obligingly, and Cliff Ross walked toward the checkout counters. There were eleven of them, but only one was open. Cliff Ross went to that one and put the “Value Pack” of Folger’s on the conveyor belt.
A woman about five years younger than Cliff Ross was working the aisle. “I’m more of a Dunkin Donuts girl,” she laughed as she picked up the tub and moved it over the scanner. The scanner beeped.
"Well we can't all be rich and famous,” Cliff Ross said while handing over a five dollar bill. The woman behind the conveyor belt laughed sincerely and returned his change. When Cliff Ross closed his hand around the two quarters, dime, and three pennies, he glanced at the blue plastic “Give a Penny” bowl on the counter. He put the change in his pocket and took his Folger’s.
“Have a good one,” the woman at the counter said to Cliff Ross as he walked away. Cliff Ross threw up his without looking back, his tub of Folger’s tucked under the other arm.
“Get everything you wanted?” the greeter asked Cliff Ross as he walked back out of the Walmart through the front room. There was still the same amount of carts in the room, each in a line that was just as crooked as before.
“Yeah I did,” Cliff Ross said.
“Have a good one,” she said earnestly, but Cliff Ross had already passed through the sliding Exit doors and could no longer hear her. Cliff Ross walked into the parking lot, pressed the lock button on his keychain remote, and followed the sound of the car horn.