It’s embarrassing to write about Target again as I feel I have come to a point that I should just dedicate a day out of every week to write about my experiences at Target. I actually thought the other day how my family probably single handedly keeps them in business as we visit nearly 8-10 times a week. Some visits are grocery runs, some visits are my baby just shit all over her outfit on the way to visit family runs, some visits are just to pass the time runs. My two year old daughter has the aisles memorized and can confidently direct you without assistance to the Elsa, Cinderella, and Sofia dresses.
Last week it was the night before heading out of town to pick up some last minute necessities run. The visit went smooth, the girls behaved as Lil A indulged in her Starbucks Vanilla Milk Box and Baby K slept soundly in her car seat. We unloaded the goods and the girls into my little Suzuki, but I found myself distracted by just how incredibly dark the parking lot was. No really, beside the gentle glow of the read bullseye on the exterior wall and the occasional roaming headlight up our aisle there were absolutely no other working lights. Josh, my husband, returned the cart to the outside corral and we headed home.
That next morning we knew we needed to be at the airport by 11:30 a.m., which meant we needed to leave our home by 10:50. At 9:45 a.m. I noticed my wallet was missing. When Josh came home from work I told him frantically, “I’ve lost my wallet, I have my passport so we can still travel, but I’ve lost my wallet! ”
“Have you called Target?” His voice was flat and unamused, as this is typical of me.
The phone rang and then a woman with a strong accent answered I was cool and calm as I began by stating my full name and then continued, “and I think I left my wallet there last night. I’m praying that by some miracle of grace it is still there.”
“Can you describe it?”
“Yes, it’s a Desigual, very colorful, with butterflies.”
“Yes, it is here.”
Target is a 20 minute commute, there and back would be 40 minutes. Some force up above graced me with greens all the way until saw the large red lettering. I attempted running as fast as I could, although I’m down to only my flip flops that I’ve had since before we were married, and they are stretched out from years of use while pregnant. I made it to the Customer Service desk just in time, only to find a line a mile long wrapped around in queue. I ran over to the side where a man was working on inventory. “I am so sorry, I know this is out of order but I’ve got a flight to catch and I just called and the lady confirmed my wallet here.” I again repeated my full name as the man pulled out a large notebook for all registered lost and found items. He had started from two weeks ago, as I repeated to him over and over again, I just left it here last night. I was growing anxious as he sent two employees over to the cash vault to search for it. The woman working the customer service desk did not seem involved so I attempted to tell the man that I just spoke to a woman this morning who told me it was here, she sounded as if she had it on her.
He finally turned to the woman and stated I was in search of a wallet, I hollered over him my entire name and she just smiled and nodded. Finally after about 15 minutes (5 minutes over the time I needed to get home in time to take my family to the airport) he opened the drawer in front of him and lifted a black flip billfold that seemed to have velcro and be from 1984, “Is this it?”
“This probably isn’t it either because it was turned in this morning not last night,” he said as he lifted my vibrant and loud wallet. “That is it!!!”
I snatched the wallet out of his hands as the lady argued, “no no, that wallet belongs to Jessica”…and then she grew pale as the realization came over her face of my full name I had been repeating…”oh, I’m so sorry.” I wanted to laugh, I wanted to kiss them, I wanted to rejoice a dance of many thanks, but instead I had to a make a mad dash and pray for green lights all the way home.