This is true, according to Dr. Ian Zimmerman from Psychology Today, who writes that impulse buyers are motivated by social pressure, emotional instability, and using products to fulfill their general unhappiness. I knew there was a hunger that those Reeses Pieces just couldn't fulfill...
Amidst the rows of pop and chip bags, Dona tickles Don's fingers. He looks up from the Cherry Coke pricetags and smiles her. She winks at him, brushing her blonde hair behind her ear. Don studies the way the fluorescent lights glean in her hair. He leans into her and kisses her. He presses her into the aisle. Dona moans.
"I've never been this happy," Dona admits. "Ever."
A few moments later Don and Dona walk towards the front register. There are only two people in front of them in line and Dona's eyes glean over towards the small shelf displays next to the old balding man at the cash register. Beep, beep, goes the merchandise.
"Do you have our Caring Customer Cool Card?"
Don tickles Dona's fingers. "I'm so glad we met," he says. "It's only been a few weeks but it seems like it's been so much longer."
Dona breaks eye contact from the sexy merchandise next to the register. "Your sturdiness makes my knees wobble," Dona whispers.
"Your impulsiveness makes me feel like a man," Don hisses into Dona's ear. She tries to stay upright. She looks back over at the products.
It's Dona's turn in line. The cashier smiles, wrinkles appearing on his cheeks. "How are you today, miss? Do you have our Caring Customer Cool Card?" Dona
doesn't answer. She stares at the Listerine breath strips that hang underneath the "2 for 99¢!" yellow crooked tag.
"Your total is four-oh-one," the cashier proclaims. Dona extracts her Mastercard from her purse and looks again at the breath strips product. There are pine trees on the front. Dona pictures what Don would think of her, with the smell of a thousand forests flowing from her breath. He'd be shocked. He'd begin to kiss her neither of them had any tongue left!
"I'll take this, too," Dona says. She swoops the Listerine product up with her hand and gives it to the cashier along with her credit card. Don looks at her with an eyebrow up, as if to say, Wow. Blow my mind, you sexy risk-taker.
"That brings it to five-oh-nine." The cashier swipes the card in his register machine. Dona tries to calm her breathing. She can feel Don rubbing her thigh with his knuckles.
"Hmm." The cashier rubs his chin. He swipes Dona's card again. Dona looks at Don and smiles, as though this were all a part of the plan. The cashier swipes the card again.
"It keeps reading denied. I just tried it three times."
Dona clears her throat and fists her shaking hands. "That's impossible."
"Well, I'll try aga- Yep. Same thing." The cashier hands Dona back her card. Dona eyes the faint green color that seems to glow from within her plastic Walgreens shopping bag. If only she hadn't purchased the breath strips, she'd probably be able to skimp by. Wasn't her mother supposed to have mailed her that loan by now? Dona decides to ask for the cashier to take out the breath strips. What?! How could she not purchase those breath strips? Don would kiss her mouth so intensely they'd both be mentally transported to a world of evergreens, where they could both be naked forever. She must have it!
"I just put like a thousand dollars in it," Dona looks at her light blue runner's watch. "About fifteen minutes ago."
"I'm sorry, but it's not working," the cashier says, clearly growing bored. "You should call your bank-"
Don steps closer to the cashier. "I'll take care of it," he says, reaching for his wallet in his back pocket.
"I'm sorry!" Dona screams. Don and the cashier look at her, startled. "I lied about having the modeling job, okay?! I'm unemployed!"
"You lied?" Don asks. "It's not a big-"
"Yes, I did! I LIED! I FUCKING LIED!" Dona picks up the telephone next to the cashier and speaks into it: "I, Dona Angelou, am a mother fucking liar! I'm a LIAR!!" Her voice reverberates throughout the entire store. Dona is aware of a red-smocked manager running towards them from near the photo booth.
"Goodbye, Don!" Tears glisten in Dona's eyes and she runs through the automatically-opening doors. "I'll always remember you."
"This is declined, too," the cashier says to Don, handing him back his Visa.
Here is a link to Dr. Zimmerman's article. The moral of today's story is, if you have ADHD, autism, or the like, and you also have money, use the register in the back of the store.
