Bulk

"We'll just have to take your picture," said the girl at the checkout counter.

I hesitated.

"So . . . you'll have my photograph on file down in Bentonville," I said.

"Uh-huh." She smiled.

Now this was something else. I don't mind volunteering my likeness, fingerprints, DNA samples, or what have you to my government. But to Wal-Mart Stores, Incorporated?

I should start at the beginning.

A few months back I received an invitation in the mail to visit Sam's Club, the "members-only" warehouse store. Being repelled yet fascinated by the Wal-Mart phenomenon -- Big? Last year the company was hit with a new lawsuit once every two hours! -- I hung onto the free pass until this weekend, when I said to the Missus, "Hey, let's go to Sam's Club today." Amazingly, she -- being no fan of Wal-Mart -- consented.

We didn't intend to buy anything, just to gape at the giant tubs of mayonnaise, the foot-locker-sized boxes of Ritz crackers, and other wonders of the bulk-shopping world. But when we saw the 64-oz. twin pack of Liquid Plumr and remembered the clogged bathroom drain, I went to fetch a cart. That's when it got a little weird.

The carts at Sam's Club are -- how can I describe them? They're fun-house sized. They're about half again as big in every dimension as a standard shopping cart, so as you approach one and take the handle you suddenly feel like you've shrunk, like you're Lily Tomlin standing next to that big chair.

Okay, we happened to need milk and there we were and I never look at the price of milk anyway, so It's not like we bought the milk because it was a screaming deal. And I always buy the cat litter in the 40-pound size, and Sam's Club's house brand is probably just as good as Tidy Cat and, again, there we were. But when the Missus asked if we should get some cat food and I looked at the mattress-sized bag of Cat Chow all I could say was, "I don't think the cat's going to live that long." We moved on. On to the 1000-count freezer bags and the 1000-count Swiffer refills and the 1000-count frozen buffalo wings.

In all honesty we never intended to join. What happened was this. When we reached the checkout I handed our pass to the girl and began unloading our dozen or so items. "Did you want to join Sam's Club today?" she asked helpfully. "Nope. Just here to check the place out, grab a few things," I said.

"And you know there's a ten percent service fee since you're not a member?"

I glanced at the Missus. No response. "Yep, that's fine," I said.

The girl rang up the total and I said, "Jeez, Sweetie. The membership fee isn't much more than the ten percent fee on our purchase. Maybe we should?"

She shot me the hairy eyeball. I knew I was already on shaky ground just having dragged her to Sam's Club.

"Are you sure?" said Missy.

"I'm sure," I said. "We'll just pay."

As I fished out my cash -- Sam's Club does not take credit cards -- a young but intense assistant manager materialized. In retrospect I believe Missy pushed a button under the counter to summon him. He held our fee pass in front of him as if it were evidence of a crime.

"Good morning. I understand you're using your free pass to visit us today. I understand you don't care to join Sam's Club today."

"That's right," I said. "Just came to check the place out."

"That's perfectly fine, Mr. Yaeger." I hadn't told him my name. "Are you aware of the many benefits of membership?" He recited a memorized sales pitch, concluding with "?and the membership fee of $35 is completely refundable any time in the next year if you decide to discontinue your membership."

I looked at the Missus. "Completely refundable," I mumbled.

"Fine," she said.

"Fine," I said to Jeremy.

"Fine!" said Missy. "I'll just put a code on your receipt and you take it to the service counter and they'll take your picture and get you your card."

By this point I felt we were in too far to back out. I felt certain people were watching us on the cameras mounted overhead. The exit was a good 100 yards away, and I could never reach a dead sprint what with the boy and the baby and those three-pound bags of M&Ms in tow. And that's how I came to be a card-carrying member of Sam's Club.

On the way home the Missus, brushing aside my counter-arguments about quality merchandise and helpful clerks and the clean, well-lit atmosphere, spoke quietly of betrayal and vowed to join the co-op this very week.

"And we're giving that card back," she said. "Oh, yes. I want to see what they say when we march in there and tell them we want our 35 bucks back."

So do I. And we will. But not until I stock up on maple syrup and highlighters and 100% merino wool socks -- nine for a dollar! -- and a couple of those giant, giant boxes of Frosted Mini-Wheats.

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Talk about a mom-and-pop operation. St. John's hoops has been offering quality basketball with a personal touch for more than 10 years. Won't you come out tonight and play? Let me know if you will or will not be there. No membership required.

P.S. Due to floor refinishing at the school, please take an alternate route to the gym tonight. Enter the same doors, but immediately turn right into the fellowship hall, and go upstairs through the school hall to the balcony of the gymnasium. Please also use the upstairs bathrooms and take note: the water fountain will be off limits, so bring your own water or Gatorade!