Trapped in Wal-Mart

A former colleague of mine told me that he had never set foot in a Wal-Mart, anywhere, and that he never would.  An unabashed snob (not that there is anything wrong with that) his main concern about venturing into Wal-Mart and mixing with the great unwashed was that someone might see him there.

I, too, am a snob, but I have learned to suppress my snobby side and, like most people in Name-of-Town-Withheld, I have grown to very fond of Wal-Mart.  It's always exciting.  For one thing, there is all kinds of stuff:. small kitchen appliances, baby supplies, bath mats, bedding, toothpaste, cosmetics, purses, crafts, fabrics, DVDs, sporting goods, books, electronics and, that most gratifying of products, cleaning supplies.  For the kids, there are toys, Hallowe'en costumes, and more toys.  There is a McDonald's.  For little girls like Janet, there are shoes, shoes and more shoes, and lots of clothing with pictures of Hanna Montana and bling.

And that brings me to my story.  Janet and I were in Wal-Mart recently.  We were there primarily to kill time, I think, but in our aimless wandering, we managed to find that perfect skirt with blue sparkles and a really great top.  As for me, I had loaded up with much-needed underwear and felt like a real grown-up.  Suddenly, just as we were making our way to the cashier, there was a loud humming sound, and then the store went black.  The power had gone out.  

I took Janet's hand.  She was clearly nervous, but her nervousness subsided into something just shy of sorrow as I explained that we would have to leave the cart and the contents at the store and come back and "re-shop" for it.  

"When the power goes out the machines don't work and we can't pay," I explained.  "They'll put it back on the shelves and we can come back later".

Janet's bottom lip protruded and quivered, and she folded her arms.  She was clearly unhappy. I waited for her "dictator within" to emerge.  Then, to my surprise, she sighed, took my hand and started to lead me to the door.  I was relieved.  Usually, my attempts to reason with (or, more accurately, appease) Janet are unsuccessful.  I wind up frustrated and using a very scary tone which results in somewhat shocked and even frightened stares from innocent bystanders, and Janet protests even more loudly, attracting more frightened stares.  I often wind up buying stuff for her.

We arrived at the exit door to find a group of people standing by it.  No one was leaving and I wondered, momentarily, if the electronics were fried and the door was temporarily stuck.  But, that wasn't the case.  Standing at the door was a young girl with a security badge. I overheard her tell a man that no one could leave the store until the power came back on, "for security reasons".  

I did not become outraged.  I was not even concerned.  Instead, I just assumed that I hadn't heard her right.  No right-thinking person would think that we could be detained by the Wal-Mart police.  Then someone else tried to leave and the girl with the badge repeated herself.  And then, people in the crowd started passing the message on to others, as though it was a fact and the store had the right to insist we stay there until the power came back on.

Now, in fairness, the security guard was young, and had likely not experienced first hand whatever protocol the store has in place for dealing with these situations.  I expect she was told to keep people calm while the store staff got organized enough to ensure that in leaving, people were not taking undue advantage of the fact that the electronic security system was not working.  

Nevertheless, the lawyer in me started to emerge.  While I do not maintain a practice in the area of detention by discount department stores, I remembered my first-year torts professor mentioning that this kind of thing was generally frowned upon by jurists.   I looked around at the crowd to find allies. There were none there.  Instead, everyone was quiet and patient, and appeared to be only too willing to comply with the directions of the 20-something security guard.   The sheep-like complacency was disturbing on a number of levels.  That is, after all, how people have historically wound up becoming oppressed, powerless and stripped of their rights.

It was going to be up to me to deal with this and so I resolved to put my legal training to use and tell her that she couldn't keep us there.  I began to articulate my thoughts (always a good idea when speaking in front of crowd, even if its an impromptu performance at a Wal-Mart) and consider how to approach it so that I would get the best result with the least amount of confrontation.  Would I politely suggest that it was unlawful?  Should I ask to speak to the manager? Should I invent some kind of medical emergency, walk out and just leave all the other people in the store?  Should I just push past her and "lead" the crowd out of the store?

But I didn't need to tax my little brain any further.  Before I could say anything, Janet started wailing.  I do mean wailing.  

"We have to stay at Wal-Mart?  All night?" She was loud and incredulous.  Her voice echoed and resonated throughout the store, I'm sure.

I tried to calm her down, as did a friend of mine who was trapped in Wal-Mart with us.  Janet would have none of it.

"I want my daddy! I want my daddy!" she shrieked, over and over.  "I want to leave!'.  The noise emanating from my little cherub was clearly disconcerting to many in the crowd, including the security guard, who began to shuffle nervously from one foot to the other.  

It was at that point that I decided that I would just let Janet scream.  It seemed to doing some good.  Indeed, it wasn't long before a store manager literally ran to the front door and hurriedly told the security guard to let people out of the store.  The security guard pushed the door open and stepped aside to let a man and his cart out.  Janet pushed past her, still shrieking.  There would be no orderly exit by us.  I wound up having to run full out through the parking lot to catch up with her.  She was waiting at the van, panting.

As we drove away, Janet's panic quickly turned to anger at being told she couldn't leave the store.  She cried, and then ranted, almost the whole way home. I didn't try and quiet her.  Instead, I told her she was right, and the the store was wrong.  It was wrong to suggest it, even for a moment, and it was even more wrong that there seemed to be no one, other than my 5-year-old, willing to stand up and question things.  

Janet, I'm proud of you.  Keep screaming!