Walmart watches: a tale of sensory overload

I recently made a trip by plane, out of one of the Yukon’s “communities” (in quotes due to ‘special communities-person status’ while visiting the ‘big city’), to Whitehorse – and inevitably, to Walmart.

Walmart’s always been a problem. Back in my early twenties, I protested in front of one almost to the point of being arrested. And in 2018, my usual level of sensory overload at Walmart was exacerbated by the lingering effects of an mtbi (‘minor traumatic brain injury,’ the new cool term for concussions). It’s always been, in some way, too much for me to deal with.

Here I am again, with a list of things to stock up on. But the list a bit vague. A major error that could result in excessive wandering – or if I want to be kinder to myself, ‘browsing.’ But I do have a plan. It involves doing the thing I’m most excited to do in Whitehorse: hit the watch section.

I’m only looking at Timex and Casios, but I think I know what I want. A white-dialed Timex Easy Reader. I put the watch display box over my wrist so I can sorta see what it would look like on me. I don’t like it. How exciting! I do the box-over-wrist test on about 20 more watches until I’m surprised by one. It’s a Timex Expedition with a black resin case, bright white dial, and black sailcloth strap. It’s the best looking watch I’ve ever seen, and only $60. I gently put in in the top seat part of my shopping cart, a place for special things. I pick up two more watches for my coworker’s sons. They’re beauty watches too, I’m going to have a hard time not keeping them for myself.

I keep scrounging, losing track of time. The excitement of shopping for my favourite little hobby items is overloading my circuitry. I catch myself feeling sort-of buzzed, which is a bad sign, because once that buzz wears off I’m going to be exhausted. Time to move on to my shopping list, which includes necessities like baby clothes, baby food and snacks, toys, batteries, toiletries. I have to be strategic because the plan is to fill a duffel bag – no more than that.

I leave the watch section and meander up that extra-wide centre aisle to electronics. Do I need anything here? I ask myself. I wander in, not waiting for an answer. I leave with nothing, not even the batteries that are on my list. Too distracted looking at headphones, phones, and the memory of CDs… There used to be CDs here… Where are the CDs?

Now I’m shuffling past the footwear section. Do I need something here? I’m leaning against my cart already, elbows on the handlebar, using it as a crutch. I mosey on.

Now I’m in the baby section. There’s a giant wall of baby food and snacks. I find myself frozen looking at this horror show of a display. Where I live there are maybe 2-5 options. I can’t focus on this mess. I lean more heavily into my cart, the flourescent lights feeling like they’re penetrating my skull… bzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

I text my older daughter to cope with feeling so disoriented. She’ll understand. In between texts venting my frustrations I start making some headway on my list. And the texting helps me articulate what I’m feeling.

There’s simply way too much stuff. Too many options. And as I wander past the men’s section, where I also wonder do I need anything here? (I don’t), I start to see the overload of options for the sales tactic it is. All this stuff crammed into this space is supposed to make me feel like I need some of it. Why else would there be so much of it? I send my daughter a picture of the men’s section and share my thoughts.

“You’ve been in there SO LONG,” she says.

Could be.

I do a recce of the toy section, but I don’t get anything. It’s burning me out. Again, the options are so abundant it’s dizzying. The toys are all sensory this and tactile that, and it feels like I could easily make a decision that stunts my baby’s development. I look for a stuffed elephant. Instead, I see misshapen plastic slabs, completely covered with buttons of all shapes, colours, and sizes. They also have levers, sliders, and viewscreen-looking things. Busyboards they call them. But they look like they’re designed to make your baby go insane doing disconnected tasks that have no purpose. These two look like air and land combat drone operation consoles.

I gotta get outta here.

That night I send my older daughter a picture of my new favourite watch, the black-cased, white-dialed Timex Expedition. I’m so proud of it. “Look at that beauty,” I text her. She’s in a timezone three hours ahead, probably in bed, and does not respond.

The next day I quickly go back to Walmart and grab a couple of toys that don’t suck. A Fisher Price not-too-busy board that also functions as an easel, and a Dora the Explorer stuffy. After a slice of pizza, a cab ride to the airport, and a one-hour plane ride, I’m back home in my little town. I unpack the watches almost immediately.

I set the time on my Timex and push the crown in to activate it. I take a picture of it on my wrist. That’s what watch enthusiasts do. Maybe I’ll post it on a watch group on Facebook or Reddit. One way or another, I’ll find some people to talk to about my incredible new watch.

I unpack everything else, and then it’s time for some quality time with the baby. I bought her a new book, so we go to the bedroom and lie down. I start reading, but I hear something:

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick...

That ticking is extremely audible, I think to myself.

Later, I go to the bathroom. I’m picking at my nails, staring at my phone, or God knows what, and I hear it again:

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick...

This is bad. I’ve spoiled myself with a collection of mechanical and solar-powered watches that make practically no sound. I sleep with them and never hear a thing. This simply won’t do.

Within half an hour the watch is off. I’m digging the packaging out of the garbage, and tracking down the receipt. When I return to Whitehorse in a couple weeks, this watch is coming back with me.

“It’s the ticking,” I’ll tell the guy at the customer service desk. “It’s sensory overload.”

They might let me get a refund, or maybe I’ll have to exchange it – for a digital this time. I don’t know what’ll happen. Walmart’s always been a problem for me.