My daughter and I were in Walmart when she looked up at me and said, “Mom, I gotta get out of here. I can’t take any more.” We left with a cart full of items, unclear if any of them were what we went for.  

Yes. The Walmart effect: In exchange for rollback prices, a piece of your soul.

While we didn’t see any shoppers clad in leopard leggings, fishnet shirts or any other “inappro-pro” apparel, we weren’t there as cell phone camera wielding shopperazzi.

We found ourselves in a few cart jams—odd scrums of jumbled wire, Chinese merchandise and zombiefied coupon clippers—an odd predicament given the cavernously expansive isles. 

Despite the reputation, at least Walmart is consistent.

I forgive Walmart’s fluorescence, carbon footprint, bulk buying, importing and price points that always end in “.88” rather than the traditional “.99.” Walmart doesn’t hide from who it is. 

Walmart, you may be tacky, but at least you are authentic—which is more than we can say for most people. 

In Walmart, I expect to be treated like a number. I know to pause and check the time-saving revolving bag holder for the errant box of toothpaste or deodorant—goodness knows I would never want to come back for it. 

I even noticed they had the wisdom to eliminate their “pet” department. (Those fish weren’t really “sleeping,” were they?)

In rural communities, Walmart is the only game in town. Some people drive 40 minutes to stock up on produce, particle board furniture and Dirt Devils (like the one I bought for $31.88.)

I salute their strange mélange of beauty products, hearing aids, cell phones, stretch pants and oddly efficient health and optical plans. Let’s face it. We love to hate Walmart.

It used to be we could balance out the "big box” stores with locally owned businesses, but those days are sadly over.

We lost Dominick’s when Safeway bought them about 10 years ago and assimilated the chain into their bulk-buying Borg. 

Before Whole Foods, Dominick’s pioneered the “Fresh Store” concept. They had a lunch bar with hot meals and sourced many of their products from local vendors. Remember Heinemann’s? 

The family-owned look and feel we all loved is gone.

Ask for a pound of ham and you will be covered in dust by the time one of the six people behind the counter waits on you.

They even took away my raison d’être—the $4.99 Friday pizza night.

I finally stopped shopping there when I saw a sign next to packets of lunch meat that said “clearance items.” Yum.

Now, like many shoppers in the Western Springs area, when we need the “big grocery store” we drive to Burr Ridge, to Hinsdale, and now Westmont. 

Sunday, in the new locally owned Standard Market in Westmont, a woman named Rita handed me a sample of gluten-free cake made in Hinsdale. I know her name because she treated me like a person instead of a patron. 

I’m sure Dominick would have liked Rita.