Maxi Pads

I'm very susceptible to advertising and I buy things I don't need.

One evening, after finishing at the office, I was at the supermarket. The fluorescent lights hurt my eyes, the scent of fabric softener wafted past, and a sad piano played the melody from Forrest Gump. I loosened my tie and undid the top button. My basket was full. I had a dozen Hungry Man instant microwave dinners in various flavors, several bags of sour cream and onion ruffled potato chips, and a couple bottles of root beer.

I took a shortcut to the checkout line through a dark aisle when a special display stopped me. A neon blue display poster announced that maxi pads were twenty percent off.

"How low can they go?" a raspy woman's voice said.

Her voice was a familiar one, like a famous actress, but I couldn't place which one. I looked to see who it was, but I was the only one in the aisle.

"Leaks have met their match," the voice said.

Now I recognized the voice. It was Susan Sarandon. I wondered how she got inside my head.

"Flexi-wings for when you miss the mark," she said.

"I don't have a vagina," I told her. I turned and started walking toward the checkout counter.

"Wait," Susan Sarandon said. "This experiment was performed at the Maxi Pad Institute."

I stopped. I loved Science.

Susan Sarandon, now standing in the aisle, poured a beaker of blue liquid onto the maxi pad. It drank up all the fluid.

"Now," she said. "Look what happens when we try the same experiment with Brand X."

She poured the beaker onto Brand X and my neck hair stood up. What if I was playing tennis in white shorts and suddenly got my period with all the other girls watching me? I grabbed a plastic package of maxi pads and put them in my basket.

I felt relieved as I waited in the narrow checkout aisle. Lucky I stumbled into the feminine hygiene aisle.

I paid, took my bag, and walked out the sliding glass doors into the cool evening. Suddenly I almost dropped my microwave dinners. I realized I had been brainwashed by Dr. Phil. He exposed me to toxic levels of maxi pad advertising.

These advertisers were smart. They probably went to college and got advanced degrees in advertising. Doctorates maybe. Doctors.

I walked back in and up to a kiosk that said Customer service Center and where the employees didn't have access to the safe. The theme to Forrest Gump started playing again.

Behind the desk, a pudgy man with acne striping his pale face leaned forward. His crooked name-tag said, "Waldo. Manager."

"May I help you?"

Waldo spoke out of his nose.

"I'd like to return these maxi pads."

"Okey-dokey," he said. "And what seems to be the problem with them?"

"No problem. I just don't need them."

"I'm sorry sir, but our store policy only allows us to issue a refund in the event that the product is defective."

"Well maybe it is defective."

"In what way?"

"I don't know. How should I know how maxi pads go wrong?"

I leaned in close to him.

"Here's the thing," I said. "I don't have a vagina."

"Are you threatening me, sir?"

"No! Look...Susan Sarandon...I'd rather not get into it. I just bought these like two minutes ago. I'm a regular customer. I bought other things. Sour cream and onion chips. Ruffled."

"Sir, if I violated the store policy for you, I would have to do it for everyone."

"I won't tell anybody."

"But I would know."

"Look," I said. "I'm just speaking to you as one human being to another. Haven't you ever said something you wished you could take back, or bought something you wished you could take back? I made a mistake when I bought these maxi pads. I admit that. Now I'm asking you, in the name of our shared humanity, give me a refund."

"Store policy has no exceptions. Period."

"Sure, I understand. You were just following orders."

"Sir, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"What if your policy was to jump off a bridge?"

"Do I have to call the police?"

"I'll never shop here again," I said. "And I'm gonna go make some friends so I can tell them not to shop here either."

I took my bag of groceries and my maxi pads and walked out the sliding doors.

"Don't patronize this establishment," I said to the people walking past. "Take your business elsewhere. There's no refunds. No mercy either. No compassion, no love, no common decency. Anybody want free maxi pads?"

I couldn't just throw them away. That would mean I had lost.

"Excuse me, miss. Would you like some free maxi pads?"

She was bright pink with red splotches and sweat poured out of her every pore. She sipped from a straw out of a paper cup and reminded me of Miss Piggy.

"Are they jumbo?" she asked. "I can only use jumbo."

"Why yes they are."

"What do I have to do?"

"Nothing. They're absolutely free."

"What's the catch?"

"Just take them and enjoy."

"Do I have to sign anything?"

"There's no contract, no obligation. These aren't a time share."

She slurped at her straw. Then she cleared her throat and narrowed her eyes.

"What did you do to them?" she asked.

I couldn't believe it. The world had gone insane. Nobody trusted anyone anymore. You couldn't even give away a package of sanitary napkins anymore. No wonder advertisers made the big bucks. No wonder they had to get doctorates in advertising.

Still, I had seen enough commercials to know how it was done.

"Can I show you something?"

I tore open the package and took out a maxi pad.

"Don't be fooled by its thinness," I said. "It has super-absorbant micro-fibers. These flexi-wings catch the foul balls. Now, if I could just borrow your beverage for a moment."

I took her drink from her and poured it into the maxi pad.

"Now," I said. "You'll notice how the...oh my."

She took back the empty cup.

"You owe me a milkshake," she said