Scavenger Hunt

The local Target is getting super-sized and while it would make more sense to me to close doors for two weeks and get the work done quickly and efficiently, they’ve instead decided to stay open and throw up signs urging shoppers to “pardon their dust.” They print daily store maps to help shoppers navigate the increasingly narrow aisle and team members roam in each department to help guide shoppers to the items they are looking for.

Cyra and I needed new flashlights for an upcoming camping trip. Hoping to find them in the old spot was probably hoping for too much! As we made our way over, I noticed that the aisles leading up to where the flashlight, batteries and light bulbs had been looked unsurprisingly bare.

Not a single flashlight or light bulb was to be found. We wandered up and down a few aisles proclaiming loudly our distress.

“What ever shall we do, Cyra?” I asked her. “We’ll have to wander around camp in the dark!”

Cyra sighed. “Look Mommy, there’s a dude right there, let’s ask.”

“No,” I told her. “Asking is like cheating. We can find them on our own.”

We wandered past more empty shelves to the newly squished paper goods section, now in the front of the store.

“Oh look,” I exclaimed, “toilet paper. Cross that off.”

“Alright,” Cyra scratched a line across the list.

“What’s next?”

“Snacks for the camp out and,” she glared at me, “a flashlight.”

We walked past three more Target team members.

“Mommy,” She started to whine.

“No way!” I told her. “Think of it as a great scavenger hunt! It’s a game and if we ask for help we lose.”

The team members we passed laughed.

“That’s right!” one of them teased, “Even we have to scout around to find things.”

“Mommy.”

Seriously, I could HEAR her eyes rolling!

We grabbed the snacks – they were still in the correct spot – and wandered back towards the middle of the store.

“Are we still not asking?”

“Nope.”

“Mommy,” Cyra said quickly, “I give up! I quit the game! Now can we ask?”

“What?” I exclaimed. “My daughter, a Quitter? How can this be? Haven’t I raised you better than this?”

Up ahead of us, three female team members loitered, waiting for customers to ask for directions.

“I am asking.”

I tried to stop her. I held her hand tightly and tried to dig my heels into the floor. One of the women, the one who had over heard us talking earlier, smiled at us as Cyra approached.

“Don’t do it, Cyra,” I pretended to cry.

The woman, clearly remembering us from earlier, played along, covering her ears and singing “la, la, la.”

Cyra was not amused. She stood in front of the woman, her foot tapping impatiently. The woman, smiling at her, finally leaned down and asked, “What can I help you find, sweetie?”

“We,” Cyra flashed me tiny angry eyes and corrected herself, “I,” she stressed, “need a flashlight.”

“Oh.” The woman looked nervous. She obviously hadn’t a clue as to where the flashlights might be. She pointed in the direction of the section the flashlights used to reside. “They were over there,” she said slowly.

We nodded as she looked over her shoulder and called another team member over. After a few minutes of discussion the second team member pointed to a few rows of empty shelving nearby.

“They are supposed to go over here.” The other woman told us.

“But?” I knew it was coming.

“They haven’t been put back out yet.” She shrugged. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, anyway,” Cyra told her. “Come on, Mommy,” she grabbed my hand. “Let’s go.”

“Wait,” I cried. “Can’t we have them find something else for us? Lamps? Candles? Candles would work at camp! What about glow-in-the-dark stickers?”

The women laughed as Cyra pulled me down the aisle.

“No, Mommy,” she said. “This game is over!”