Column by Robert Critser
This is a story from St. Patrick’s Day:
I just happened to be in the office when the phone rang. I glanced down at the caller ID and I recognized the name, so I answered it. I still would have answered the phone, regardless, but the call would not have been quite the same.
“Good morning and thank you for calling the Walmart Supercenter. This is Assistant Robert speaking. How can I help you today, Randy? How you doing?”
I said the last part like Joey, from the TV show, Friends. The caller chuckled.
“Well, good morning, Robert. Hey, listen, I was wondering what you have left on the shelves...”
He had heard stories about people panic-buying in the midst of this coronavirus pandemic and wondered if it was true.
“Oh, it’s true.”
I ran through a shortlist of things we had sold out of toilet paper, water, ramen noodles, milk, eggs, bread ... I told him he should see the cereal aisle, I had never witnessed anything like it.
He told me he could use a few other things, but what he was really looking for was toilet paper, specifically.
I jokingly explained that this was the Walmart Apocalypse and the piranhas had picked apart the last pallet of toilet paper before it even made it all the way to the floor — we didn’t even put a price on it.
I didn’t know when the next pallet of paper would come in, but I told him we get a truck every day, and I would call him when and if I saw it.
I was stocking water when the truck showed up. True to my word, I called him the moment it came in.
“Randy, I have some TP for your bunghole if you’re anywhere close to getting here.”
“Well, to be honest, I’m still at home and I’m back in my pajamas and I don’t know that I feel like going anywhere,” he replied, like a man who was set in his ways, a man who knew that being seventy years old offered certain privileges.
Since his mind was made up, I told him I would see if there was anything left when my shift was over. If he was lucky, I would be able to bring a package to him after work.
“Will it be Charmin? Or something else?” I heard just a wee bit of skepticism in his voice.
I told him I didn’t know what we had or what would be left. He understood that beggars can’t be choosers, but he told me he could do without single-ply, if possible.
We joked about “John Wayne” toilet paper but told them there might not be a lot of options.
Anyway, there was some two-ply toilet paper left when I was finished working and I was able to buy some TP that was as soft as angels on my way out.
A coworker asked about the toilet paper as I was heading out the door.
“Well, an older gentleman called the store and he needed some toilet paper, but he can’t make it out, so I’m making a delivery,” I continued, lowering my voice to conspiratorial levels, “He’s my first — I’ve never bought toilet paper for an old man before.”
Despite what my wife says, sometimes I can be funny.
When I delivered the goods, I shared the conversation with Randy. He loved it. We exchanged banter for a few minutes and then he asked what he owed me.
“For toilet paper? Don’t worry about it.” I waved the thought away.
“How much was it?” He stared at me, one hand on his wallet on the table.
“I don’t know, I didn’t look. I just paid for it.”
“You just paid for it, huh? You really don’t know?” He continued to interrogate me.
“Well, I also bought a soda.”
He stared at me some more.
“Well, if I did you a favor, you owe me one, Randy.”
He rolled his eyes. “Well, I can see where this is heading. It’s getting deep in here.”
“I know, that’s why I bought you toilet paper,” I laughed, and I headed out the door.
I wanted to share this story as a reminder to be considerate and kind during this difficult time.
There is no need to hoard toilet paper or to be selfish with staples like milk, bread, and eggs. There’s no shortage of these things, except when the consumer exhausts a store’s daily supply. We’re going to get more tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that — it’s what we do.
Please, let other people have a chance to purchase the things they need. A 70-year-old man shouldn’t have to call me at 6 a.m. to see if he can purchase toilet paper. Don’t get me wrong, we both enjoyed our visit. But, as a community, I think we’re better than that.