Diva Pam here...Twice
a year, one of our local thrift stores
has a bag sale. To clear out merchandise
between seasons, the store invites customers
to bring brown bags and fill them for
a dollar per bag. Needless to say I
have never missed one, but this time
it was a little different.
Maybe I have been overly influenced
by the constant Iraq war coverage,
but I found myself developing a “psych-ops”
campaign of my own while waiting for
the bag sale to open. Sizing up the
enemy, (some people call them early
birds) poised for plunder and breathing
heavily on the store's front door,
I felt the tension mounting.
As the clock ticked closer to opening
time, I began to panic because I was
not on the front line, falling a distant
number 10 in a line that was already
wrapping around the building. Even
so I was NOT willing to surrender
to that smug TBSS (too bad, so sad)
look the front liners were sporting
as they cast their look of pity my
way.
Suddenly I remembered that I had the
weapon of choice for a bag sale in
the trunk of my car ... double-bagged
bags with handles! While the bag sale
is limited to a standard paper bag
issue, my MOAB (mother of all bags)
is permitted. Eureka, victory was
mine!
Just standing in line with these MOABs
filled me with a sense of pride and
courage. While others may have had
a clear field advantage, I would more
than make up for it in shear poundage,
since double bags double your cache.
I would also gain the advantage of
being able to hold multiple MOABs
in my hands since mine had handles
while everyone else needed both arms
to hold on, thereby limiting their
RGA (rapid grasp action).
Even before advancing on the target,
my psych-ops campaign was working.
The glances of pity gave way to looks
of shear terror as the realization
of my MOAB set in.
Stay tuned for additional coverage
as our embedded reporters provide
the results of the bag sale bargain-ground.
