I was completely unprepared for school to begin this year. On Memorial Day, I partied and shirked my impending responsibilities. On Tuesday, I realized my youngest son had no Special Indoor Shoes to wear to preschool. On Wednesday, I realized my daughter’s coat no longer fit.

On Thursday, I set the alarm for 7 pm instead of 7 am, leaving myself two minutes to get the kids ready to go. On Friday, I discovered I had nothing to pack for my youngest son’s lunch, and sent him to school with a bruised banana and a hearty sandwich made with a stale crust of bread and Starburst fruit candies.

On Saturday morning, my husband and I decided to do something about the situation. We got a sitter for the kids and went to Sam’s Club. Why? Because there’s just something comforting about knowing you have enough apple sauce cups to withstand the upcoming nuclear holocaust. We loaded two carts full of essentials: 72 rolls of toilet paper, 500 juice boxes, 672 throat lozenges, enough deodorant to keep a manure factory from stinking, and a 48 pack of Hostess Ding Dongs (for comfort — a nuclear attack can be quite a downer).

There was just one problem. We were unprepared to pay. Our Sam’s Club card had been “revoked.” We found this out, needless to say, after we put the 60 pounds bags of Meow Mix on the conveyor belt. The lovely woman behind us completely understood that this sort of thing can happen to anybody, and waited patiently for the issue to be resolved. I’m kidding, of course. The evil hag put her hands on her hips after about ten seconds, and snottily asked the cashier exactly what the problem was. For a moment, I was embarrassed and almost suggested the cashier take her first, but then I noticed she only had three items in her cart. What kind of an American goes to Sam’s Club and walks out with three things?! Clearly, she was a Communist spy, and deserved to wait.

So hubby went over to the customer service desk, and I stood at the check-out and pretended I wasn’t dying inside as the people stacked up behind me. I tried to remember that I had waited behind about ten thousand losers who held up the whole line in the past, and that karma meant I deserved to pay them back, but it was difficult. The woman behind me made a few more snotty comments to the cashier, and I could feel my face start to flame. I was just getting ready to pry open my 26 pack of Venus Divine razors to end my misery when the lady said we could just ring the items up, add the $40 membership fee, and then go to the customer service desk afterward to get the fee refunded. I readily agreed. She rang me up in just a few moments, and then gave me my total.

You know in cartoons, how an anvil will fall on a character, and their eyes will bulge out of their heads? Well, that’s how I felt after she told me the damage. Holy smoke! Who knew 12-packs of VCRs could be so expensive? I did a few swift calculations in my head, concluded that little Timmy could do without his insulin for a week, and ran my debit card through. Declined! I’m pretty sure the woman behind me imploded from anger at this point, but there was no way I was going to turn around and look.

I asked the cashier if they took credit cards, and she said yes. I gratefully swept my Mastercard through. “Oh, we only take Discover,” announced the cashier. Discover?? What kind of place only takes Discover? Clearly, Sam’s Club is owned by Communist spies. Anyway, I asked if I could write a check. Fortunately, the cashier didn’t connect the dots about my debit card not working and me writing a check from the same account, and accepted it. Seconds later, hubby finally walked over with his new card. Too late! We had to go back to the customer service desk to get the $40 back.

Just twenty-five minutes, two strip searches, and an unflattering picture that the lady took while I was mid “Oh, I didn’t know I had to have a picture tak…CLICK!” later, and hubby and I were on our way. Totally prepared to go home and order pizza, since we had no real food in the house.