Today, however, I want to talk about classism. I went shopping for house stuff today - trash cans, bath mats, etc. Normally, before I go shopping, I'll make a detailed list of what stores I'm headed to and what I need to get at each one. Today, however, I was feeling frisky, so I just trotted out the front door without a list. Mistake. As soon as I pulled in to the parking lot at Wal-mart, my mind wiped itself clean. I stood in the front of the store, thinking REALLY HARD and not remembering a damn thing I wanted when I made my mental list last night. So I left with razors, haircutting scissors (Tony needs a cheap trim - God help him.) a trash can and some lemon cake mix. At Staples, I actually got what I needed (hanging file folder frames) and at HomeGoods, I tried to fill in the gaps I'd left at Wal-mart with a crate, an ice-cube tray and some window cleaner. I am truly hopeless at remembering things.
But the most striking part of the day (beyond my completely random disregard for practical things in favor of ice-cube trays and lemon cake mix) was the difference in shoppers at Wal-mart and Home Goods.
The stores themselves sell remarkably similar things. Of course, HomeGoods doesn't sell tires, but in the areas of inventory overlap, the products are the same, at least on the surface. Glasses, plates, pots, pans, trash cans, sheets, towels, etc. And HomeGoods ain't exactly Nordstrom - the products are overstock leftovers from other stores, for pete's sake. But in the line at Wal-mart, I stood behind a older gentleman arguing vehemently with the checkout lady (who was, herself, old enough to resemble a dried apricot) about a $.25 coupon for his Chock Full O'Nuts coffee, while the escaped mental patient behind me breathed moistly on the nape of my neck. The store was packed to the gills with the elderly, the oppressed and the harried mothers of 12 seeking discount diapers.
At HomeGoods, though, I stood sedately in line with other women who looked remarkably like me. I was probably the youngest one there, but not by much. Women in flats, jeans and hooded sweaters bought their deeply discounted trash cans with credit cards fished from the bottom of designer handbags. After we'd checked out, we pushed our carts (or in my case, hauled my crate) out to our new cars, headed off to lunches at home.
Which brings me to my question - why do we sort ourselves so efficiently into class levels? I paid less at HomeGoods for products that I could have gotten at Wal-mart, so it can't be pricing that keeps us apart. The HomeGoods was half a mile down the road from the Wal-mart, and on the bus line, so it can't be access. Maybe folks like Senior Crazypants the Neck Breather aren't comfortable hanging with my homies - short-haired housewives and stay-at-home moms in their sensible flats and trouser-leg jeans. Maybe my homies don't like Chock Full O'Nuts coffee? All I know is that I continue to feel uncomfortable no matter where I shop and without my list, I'm hopeless.
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