How May I Not Help You?

If Sandy allows it the following will be the topic of my next column:

Today, while searching for victims of my "man on the street" opinions, I was kicked out of Wal-Mart. I was leisurely passing along the aisles when all of a sudden, out of nowhere, I was t-boned by a short, dark-haired guy in a blue uniform. Uh-oh, the fuzz. No, it wasn't the police. I wasn't killing anyone. It was an assistant manager named Chris.
Chris asked, "What are you doing here?"
I said, "I work for the Ennis Daily News and I am getting public opinions on different topics."
"Are you cleared for that sort of thing?" Chris asked.
Yeah, I checked in with NORAD. The generals gave me a level five clearance. This is what I wanted to say. Instead I came back with, "Yes, my editor and your store manager have an agreement that it is okay for me to do this."
"Well, I will need you to come up front," Chris demandingly said.
While on our way from houseware to the front of the store Chris asked what the topics were and I told him the war in Iraq, what people are doing for Independence Day and what they like about living in Ennis.
When we reached the front of the store Chris got on the horn to his boss and while he was doing that I struck up a conversation with the two employees who were standing near me. They were two nice ladies who knew what I was up to, because they read the newspaper, and asked what the questions were. One of them went off on the war and I asked to quote her on it. As I was writing down her answer Chris walked back and saw me at work again.
I could only respond with, "We were just talking."
Chris I don't think found me amusing. He told me he needed me to leave and I went off from there.
"What do you mean? I'm not selling anything. I'm just asking people questions. It's like me asking where the milk is or what the weather is like."
Chris' response was "I know but you don't have permission to do that today and I need you to leave. You can talk to our store manager, but he isn't here today."
"I will be," I said.
I stormed off and after a few steps I went back to check that I would remember his name. When I walked into the office I slammed the door and screamed, "They kicked me out of Wal-Mart."
Sandy was on the phone faster than it takes me to eat a pizza roll. After a brief conversation with the person on the phone Sandy told me I could go back and finish up. I just needed to check in at the customer service desk from now on and let them know I would be there.
That's right. The employees of Wal-Mart that I have worked with in the past and the ones Sandy talks to about getting me safe passage through their store are extremely friendly and helpful. In fact, I have learned that 99% of the Wal-Mart staff lends a hand when needed, but then that remaining 1% really ruins it for the rest of them.