Come Join Walrus

I needed to go into the local Sportchek/Nevada Bob’s store to look for some chain cleaner. I knew that they wouldn’t have what I was looking for; they have never had anything that I wanted in all of the years I have lived in the area. You would think that after all of these years, either they would have started stocking the kind of merchandise that I need or I would have stopped wasting my time. It appears that neither one of us have been able to learn from experience.

The parking is always horrible, but I have come to expect that and just consider it as part of my exercise regime. I noticed there was a sign that took up about half of the outside wall which was mainly pictures of different smiling people from all walks of life. The only writing on it was COME JOIN WALRUS. I had no idea what WALRUS was, but everyone in the picture seemed to be pretty happy about it. Who knows, maybe I will join, everyone wants to belong to something, and it is just possible this WALRUS might be the perfect fit for me.

It turns out that I read the sign wrong and considering that the letters are at least six feet tall, I actually had to work at getting it wrong. The sign actually read COME JOIN WITH US. That actually makes more sense than COME JOIN WALRUS but is some how less fun. COME JOIN WALRUS inspires images of swimming with dolphins and tossing fish to the walruses when they have balanced on a big red ball. Actually, I don’t think the walruses do balance on balls, that would be seals that do the balancing. I think all walruses do is wallow around eating fish, having disgusting sex and making sounds like an elephant. When I think of walruses I actually think of Jabba the Hutt for Star Wars. I made the part about the sex up, but I have a feeling it would be disgusting to watch.

What the sign wanted me to join was the war on cancer. How long does a war have to go on before it is considered an ongoing conflict or an “uneasy peace”? I don’t like cancer and would like to see it gone, but I have the feeling we will be fighting skirmishes for a long, long time. I didn’t come to Sportchek/Nevada Bob’s to fight cancer that is a battle for another day. Today I shop!

Well, I would like to shop but it seems that Sportchek/Nevada Bob’s has a service department so they don’t actually sell items that you can use to repair or even clean your bike, but they would be more than happy to set up an appointment for me to bring my bike in. I don’t think I made it more than ten paces at a time without one of the many merchandizing facilitators asking if I needed help. My arm started to ache waving them off. I figured that since I was there I would look for shoes as I am way past the rule of three.

I picked a pair of light hikers that looked like the kind of shoes a guy like me would wear and as it turned out, they were on sale. They really are my kind of shoe. I told the third merchandizing facilitator that came up to me that I’d like to see the Moab Ventilator in a size 10 and 10.5. He went in the back for a minute and came out empty handed with a sad look on his face and said “We only have those is an 8, but we have the “Moab Superfuckingexpensive” in that colour and your size.”

I asked the guy if they get a lot of guys with size 8 feet shopping at this store? He gave me that vacant look that most mouth breathers have and I said thanks, maybe I’ll come back next week. I walked out of the store realizing that my record of walking out of this store empty handed hasn’t changed.

I’m not sad that I couldn’t find what I was looking for, but I am disappointed that I won’t be able to “Come Join Walrus” now or in the future.