The Front Porch: Wal-Mart fails to stir some souls

North Side residents watched the recent outcry over the proposed South Hill Wal-Mart with amusement. After all, we have two Wal-Marts less than five miles apart on the North Side.

But, just because we have them doesn’t mean we patronize them. I don’t shop at Wal-Mart.

My husband, Derek, and I went there once this past Christmas season. I ended up sitting on the bench next to the Salvation Army bell-ringer for half an hour while Derek wandered around.

He’s easily distracted.

“I think couples who shop at Wal-Mart have a much higher divorce rate,” he said when he finally found me. Could be.

I’d already formed an attachment to Tony, the grizzled bell-ringer. He gave me a lot of mints while I waited.

But since it looks like the North Side has cornered the market on Wal-Marts, I decided to give them one more chance. I left Derek at home and chose a more experienced guide.

Denise Gilmore works at Shadle Park High School and lives nearby. She’s an almost daily visitor to the Shadle shopping wonderland and agreed to be my expedition leader.

But she had one question, “Why don’t you like Wal-Mart?”

“I don’t know,” I said as we stood at the bustling entrance.

“My sister-in-law doesn’t like Wal-Mart because she says the public address system is annoying,” Gilmore said as I wrestled with my cart.

Immediately the loudspeaker crackled to life.

“Line two, code three.” I took out my notebook and documented five announcements in seven minutes. It was disorienting.

“Will all food people report to the manager’s office, all food people to the manager’s office.”

Denise assured me I wasn’t one of the food people they were looking for.

I discovered several things on my 40-minute guided tour.

One: I really hate fluorescent lighting.

Two: I hate yellow smiley faces even more than fluorescent lighting and, three: Wal-Mart has some really good deals.

For $20 I purchased a six-pack of sports socks, some pink gloves, my favorite facial soap and a pair of Love Dice for Derek’s Valentine’s gift. And where else but the Wal-Mart clearance aisle can you find wicked looking hunting knives right next to SpongeBob sports goggles?

“This is where good deals go to die,” Denise said, as I paid for my purchases.

She looked concerned when I told I planned to visit the Wal-Mart Supercenter near North Pointe on my own.

“You have my number,” she said as she got out of the car.

This store is vast, but I negotiate Costco on a weekly basis. What’s the difference?

A strident, sputtering sound assailed my ears the minute I walked through the doors. If Costco has a P.A. system, I’ve never heard it.

Among requests for paper goods and chemical associates to dial 208, I heard Elmo’s Chicken Dance song over the loudspeakers. I found myself torn between flapping my wings and counting announcements.

And what is a “chemical associate” anyway?

I asked a sales clerk if the P.A. system was always so annoying.

She said, “I don’t even hear it anymore.”

I fled the store and contacted the one person who’s always been able to explain life’s imponderables to me. I e-mailed my oldest brother, David.

David has an important job with the State Department in Washington, D.C. I know his job is important because his title takes up a full paragraph in Mom’s Christmas letter.

“The reason you don’t like Wal-Mart,” David explained, “is that you already have a church.

“Wal-Mart is the epitome of consumer fundamentalism; Sears is consumer Methodism, Nordstrom’s is consumer Presbyterianism, and Trader Joe’s is consumer Christian Science.”

I think he’s on to something. At least now I have an answer if I’m invited to visit Wal-Mart: “No thanks, I belong to a different denomination.”