More Ammo Adventures at Wally World

Stopped at WalMart enroute to the range.

Yea! Plenty of Blazer Brass in my calibers! [insert happy dance here]

Had the usual experience of having to walk the gal behind the counter to the right stuff ("no...up one...to the left...yeah. Two of those...")

Ended up with 4 boxes of .45 and 2 of 9mm. Of course, the gal behind the counter wasn't empowered to use the register by the ammo, so she summoned a lackey to carry my ammo to the garden center register.

The lackey was a young guy (maybe 20, 21?).

"Wow," he said. "Gonna shoot somebody?"

I blinked. "I sure hope not." That's a pretty stupid question. But, although I'm not a crazed firearms evangelist, I do try to fight the ignorance.

He continued walking. "Going hunting?

Talkative little bastard. "Nope. Just going to the range. It's a hobby. But the same box would cost me 16 bucks there, so I stock up here."

"Huh." He was quiet until we got in line. He then opened one of the boxes of .45 and peered in. "Wow. That's a big bullet."

Jesus H. Christ. Now, some of my fellow gun nuts would kidnap the kid and take him to a Second Amendment Re-education camp, and some would shriek at him and call him a "sheeple" while berating him about his inability to protect himself and his loved ones. I mostly just wanted to not have a conversation with him.

"Well, on the outside chance it ever comes to that, I prefer a big bullet to a small one."

He looked at me. I looked at him. I thought about saying, "that's why I have eight of them in a suitable pistol on my hip right now. Which also makes me curious about why you have to carry my ammo to the register." But I left that part out.

All in all, a mildly annoying experience. The ladies at the checkout, however, were a hoot, pointing out that they were double-bagging my purchase to save me from having to gather several hundred spilled rounds from under cars in the parking lot.