Prying Technology from its Clutches at Target

The best, the worst and all of the in-between shit happens, for me, at Target.

By the time I had made my second trip yesterday at 3:30pm because I forgot tampons (a fairly essential need), shampoo and extra Valentine candy for the kids' homemade cards, I was so ready to get in and to get out.

With all three kids in tow, I made the quintessential mistake of making one last pit stop into the accessories section to see if by chance, they had an evening clutch, I could use for an event on Friday...I know, everything in the eleventh hour.

The most critical need of the very small hand bag was that my phone fit inside.  After enduring endless rashes of shit for purchasing the iPhone 6 Plus, I now know why one should not own a phone that large and in charge.  Somehow, someway, I fit it snugly into the clutch, clicked the top button and thought, woo-hoo, I have a cute, fun bag for the evening.  As I attempted to open up the fucker, it was an absolute no-go.  Shit, shit, shit.  Now, what do I do?

My youngest e exclaimed, "Just bang it, mama on the side of the cart, it's bound to open."

My middle babe proclaimed, "She can't do that, Claire or she'll break the phone into a million pieces."

With my heart rate accelerating faster by the second, my oldest said, "You've got to wedge it out of there mom and for God sake, get out of the aisle, everyone can see you."

Yes, that's it...we must jimmy it out...but how?

My 10-year old son grabbed a hanger and began surgery on the clutch to retrieve the smart phone unharmed.  While we were both tearing the shit out of our fingers and nails, by the last stroke of luck, the fucker opened and the phone was safe...but unfortunately, the bag was not.

Mind you, the problem with Target after school is that every mother is there with their children.  And so, in the short span of 15 minutes, I bumped into 3 different school families, 2 of which witnessed the clutch snafoo.  Damn, damn, damn.

Thankfully, a lovely Target employee walked by and assured us that they could "damage out" the bag saving both my ego and my pocket book.

Walking to the car both exasperated and relieved, my son turns to me and says, "I guess sometimes we have to decide if technology is worth it, right, mom?"

Sweet Jesus.  Another day, another dollar, another joy ride at the local Target.