why i will always go to osco

I grew up going to Osco for hair gel and shampoo and for baby oil and femine unmentionables. My parents were strange like that. I honestly never stepped foot into a Walmart until I was 12 and my neighbors took me. My mom had never been to one either. I came home from my several hour introduction to the low-priced, high-volume mega store and raved to my mom about how inexpensive shampoo was and about the absolute perfection of a place where one can buy a bra, a notebook, a roasted chicken and a best-selling novel.

My parents switched over. They saw all of the money they were saving, and Osco became a last minute stop, but not a destination. Walmart was our destination until Target came along, and that changed everything. Today, I prefer Target especially in my part of the city, because at the Walmart in my nieghborhoood, all of the best-sellers are in Spanish and I get the feeling that the merchandise is not targted to someone of my background. But sometimes, when I have only one item to purchase, or when I am at work and I want a break, I still go to Osco.

This afternoon, I walked to the Osco down the street from my buiilding and decided to purchase a soda, some gum and one of those caramel-covered, sour-apple suckers. I found what I needed and waited in line to pay. I was slightly annoyed there was no "self check-out" option, and I was even slightlier annoyed that it was taking so long to get through the line. But it was all worth it when it was my turn to pay and my cute, frumpy, old ladyish cashier greeted me. At that second, her co-worker asked her if she wanted anything to drink. She said, "no," but quickly changed her mind. "Yes, I would like something to drink. Bring me a root beer," she said. Then she looked at me, winked and said, "That way, it will feel like I'm drinking a beer."

I laughed outloud. And I totally understood where she was coming from. I was, after all, buying a sucker covered in cheap caramel so that I could feel like I was eating a caramel apple. What good are Fridays, anyway, if we don't splurge a little?