Mike Maddock

I love Wal–Mart as long as I don’t have to shop there or drive within a five mile radius of its parking lot. It’s hard to beat Wal–Mart’s prices, and the shelves there are stocked with just about everything from shaving cream to steel–belted radial tires. However, the thought of navigating the endless sea of cars and bargain shoppers who inhabit that place 24 hours a day, seven days a week gives me the same feelings I got the first time my dad forced me on Myrtle Beach’s Swamp Fox Roller Coaster some 30 years ago; terrified, dizzy, and nauseous.

It’s just not pleasant. My wife has to drag me there while I whimper and squirm like a dog headed for the bathtub. I’m not sure if my trauma developed from the strange aroma of humanity floating around that place or the avocados that have fallen off the fruit shelves that always seem to find the bottom of my shoe. Maybe it’s the mass of buggy traffic where little old ladies turn into sadistic New York City cab drivers seeking out innocent pedestrians to flatten. My fear of the department store giant may simply come from the hypnotic and unhealthy glow of the fluorescent lights, but I do know I cease to be an adult male once I pass the Wal–Mart greeter. I revert to the same sniveling, snot–nosed, little brat I was back on that silly roller coaster.

All that said, believe it or not, I actually volunteered to go to the busiest Wal–Mart in town during the peak of the holiday shopping season last Saturday. My little adventure was not a self–improvement, fear–conquering experiment, and it wasn’t even to get the deal of the century on a DVD player and a bottle of conditioner. I went to Wal–Mart to ring the bell for the Salvation Army Kettle Drive.

Through the volunteer efforts of the Columbia Rotary Club of which I am a new member, I got the opportunity to help an organization that has been helping millions of people for many, many years and I took it...even though I knew it meant I was going to be at those sliding front doors of what I sometimes consider shopping Hell.

My tiny little contribution to this incredibly worthy cause was literally a minute drop in the bucket for those selfless people at the Salvation Army, but it was an eye–opening and transforming experience for me.

For starters, as I donned the red apron and rang my bell beside the half–full kettle of dollar bills and spare change, Wal–Mart morphed from the retail monster, existing only to torture me with its hordes of bargain hunters and crazed parking lot drivers, to a place of peace and joy on earth filled with people tossing change and sales associates wearing a big yellow smile.

While I still smelled the unusual mixture of oversized cheese pretzels, hair dye, and stale diapers every time the sliding doors opened, I also witnessed the smiling faces and generosity of Wal–Mart patrons.

I used to be scared to look up from my buggy during trips to Wal–Mart preferring instead to attack the aisles like some stealth consumer on a mission for mayonnaise, avoiding eye–contact and the front end of little old ladies’ shopping carts. But this past Saturday, I became the Wal–Mart greeter at the front door beside the kettle and caught a glimpse of every person coming in the store.

I was amazed by their generosity and their attitudes. Where I would have come in the store kicking and screaming with all the zeal of a two– year–old in need of a nap and certainly unprepared or unwilling to empty my pockets for charity when I still had 16 people left on my Christmas list, most everyone I saw stopped in their tracks to find something to give to the mission of the Salvation Army. When I thanked them for their donation, they thanked me for volunteering.

These patrons were not complaining or whining about the long lines and possible damage to their bank accounts. They were buying gifts and giving what they could to help those less fortunate. It was a side of the Wal–Mart experience I hadn’t seen yet due to my own issues and petty concerns. It may sound corny, but my Grinch–sized heart grew ten times this past weekend, and my irrational fear of Wal–Mart is gone thanks to a little bell and a big red kettle. I hope I get the chance to volunteer again soon.

Editors note: Wal–Mart has agreed to match all Kettle Campaign donations up to $1,000,000 at all Wal–Mart locations nationwide.