Adventures at Target

I have been going to Target my entire life. It is a wondrous place full of the same merchandise you could find at Wal-Mart without the smells and/ or risk of standing in line with a family covered in lice. Whenever I walk into this establishment and need help finding a Sham-Wow! or other modern manufactured miracles, I look for a human wearing:

1. Khakis

2. A red shirt

3. A name-tag

I walk up to them with confidence knowing that they are walking GPS systems that will direct me to the correct aisle so I can help the economy by (usually) buying something I don't need. Occasionally I walk into Target during my lunch break or directly after work wearing dress pants, a long sleeved shirt, and a tie. Sometimes, depending on the weather, I'm even wearing a complete suit. Although I looked a bit dressy to be purchasing the latest Buckcherry album, it never proved to be an issue -- until I moved to South Florida.

Now I am bothered by anyone over the age of 60 for the location of Pennzoil, Hallmark Cards, and clothes for their "Husky" grandson. They all think that I am the "Uber-Target Man." Because I am not wearing the peasant's red and khaki attire, they assume that I have risen through the ranks of the corporation and I am filled with expert knowledge. Hell, I might even be the owner -- BECAUSE I'M WEARING A TIE.

Are You F---ing Kidding Me?

They do not hesitate. They do not ask if I work there. They stumble towards me with bewildered looks already assuming that I know all the answers to their consumer queries. I used to say "No, I don't know where that is. I don't work here. Sorry for your horrific lapse of judgement regarding the dress code." However, that proved to be quite boring.

I NOW AM THE "UBER-TARGET MAN." As Webster's definition of "uber" states: I am the ultimate, above all, the best, top, something that nothing is better than. Between these walls I am God. Here are a few TylerDFC patented one act plays depicting my current interaction with those collecting social security.

Interaction #1

Wilford Brimley: "Do you know where I could find the oatmeal?"

Me: "Yes, I do." I then proceed to walk directly past without making eye contact, make a left down the next aisle, and vanish leaving Wilford in a land of confusion.

Interaction #2

Betty White: "Where would I find a clue?"

Me: "I know exactly where that is! Do you have some paper so I can draw you a map?" I then take my pen, and begin scribbling out a maze usually shaped like a monkey. "I should note that this map is not to scale. You'll have to excuse me as I have an executive meeting to attend forecasting the next 10 years of profitability."

Interaction #3

Ed Mcmahon: "Hello! Can you show me where the 6 foot wide checks are located?"

Me: "Absolutely. But first you must do 20 push ups without wearing your pants. It's store policy. " I then act like my cell phone just rang, put it to my ear, speak in a made up language (usually Klingon or like a Gremlin) and walk away while Ed is removing his slacks.

Interaction #4

Jack Palance: Excuse me, tiger, where are the air rifles?

Me: "Air rifles you say? I'll tell you, we sell them, but you're not gonna get a deal here. What you got to do is this. Get back in your Lincoln, go down Cypress, until you come to Federal. Make a Left. Go down 3 blocks until you see Lucky G's Liquor Emporium and turn right. Go down a couple blocks until you get to that house where the crazy bitch killed that guy last year, turn left. Right there look for a guy next to a burned out Cutlass. That's my man Pookie. He'll hook you up, tell him Rico sent you."

This concludes today's waste of your time.