The lady at Walmart thinks I'm artsy

This story is true. I'm not sure if it's a social commentary on the culture of the people of Walmart, or if it's just a piece of prose I wrote to amuse myself. In any case, I feel obligated to memorialize it. If not for your sake, then mine.

The other day I felt the need to print some photos I took. So I ordered photo prints online through Walmart. Unfortunately, my photos usually end up over-saturated when I print them there. This dampens my spirits momentarily. But then I remember how inexpensive they are and I cope because I am a poor college student.

I also felt the need to purchase a book I've desperately wanted to read for quite some time now. I was surprised to find that Walmart sold it online, and through its Site to Store Pick-Up, I could buy it for a cheaper price than anywhere else. So I did.

On a Saturday afternoon, I traversed to this magical place to collect my treasures. I quickly bought some groceries so I could sooner start the fun part: retrieving my photos and new book. Bananas, strawberries, avocados, wheat pasta, almond milk, guilty pleasure chocolate protein shake. Check.

I hurried to retrieve my book from the Site to Store Pick-up section of Walmart, where a tall brunette man materialized from a back room. I revealed my intentions of picking up the book. His eyes reflected subtle surprise, and he informed me that people hardly ever order books at Walmart. He gladly gave me my book, I gladly received it, and I was on my way to the photo department.

The Lady sat. The Lady sat in her apathy. The Lady sat in her apathy until she mustered the will to ask, "Can I help you?"

I smiled and said, "Yes! I'm here to pick up some photos under the name of Kristina Smith."

The Lady found my photos amongst her files. She pulled two of my photos from their sleeve and asked "where I got them." I told her I photographed the images, because I did. She gave me a pointed look that undoubtedly carried the subtext: "AND I'M THE QUEEN OF SHEBA." The Lady returned the photos to their sleeve without a word, acting like she'd let me slide on this one.

I asked The Lady why she questioned the origin of my photos. She replied, "Well. they look kinda like...artsy. So if you got them online [here she paused and gave me accusing eyes], they're probably copyrighted or something, and you're not supposed to print them without permission."

I reiterated the fact that I took the photos. I even told her the shots' locations. A smirk sat, fastened indefinitely to her face.

The Lady clung to her opinion like a tiny starfish on an artificial boulder. However, as she married her opinion, she also entertained her apathy. Drenched in her indifference, she ultimately permitted me to print photos which she presumed I stole from the Internet.

As I walked away from this strange scenario, I was mildly ruffled because of my inability to penetrate The Lady's mind with truth. However, feelings of amusement and even gratification prevailed.

I don't how much fulfillment a human being is supposed to feel when a Walmart employee deems their photography to be professional in quality. And I don't know what it says about a person when they feel flattered in such a scenario. But for a good five minutes, I felt pretty good about myself.

The lady at Walmart doesn't know it, but she thinks I'm artsy.