The story starts early this morning. Yours truly was rapidly striding through the aisles at the local Target. I have a routine of when I visit the emporium; every time they get in new shipments. I was approaching the familiar aisle of IJ paraphenalia, still scanning the shelves.
You see, the stockboys have come to despise me. I buy figures, they must work to put some back on the racks. So, they started hiding some of the merchandise. I'd find a whip there and a Cemetery Warrior here. But back to the story...
I heard a conversation taking place. I tried not to eaves-drop, but when someone is screaming, you tend to notice. One man was interrogating a worker as to EXACTLY when the next crates of something were coming in. "Well, they BETTER be in by tomorrow, or I'll take this to management!" The man claimed. I rounded the corner, my head high, not making the realization that...
The man came into view. In his arms were stacks, I mean 4-figure-high stacks, of Indiana Jones 3 3/4" action figures. He looked at me, predicting my own intentions. I stared at the last Talking Jones 12" on the shelf, gleaming between us. Just my luck, it was in just about the exact center of the row. The man looked at me, me at him, the both of us at the figure. He grinned, I followed suit. Sudden'y, he broke into a full sprint, straight toward the prize. I dashed ahead, trying to outrun him. We advanced, closer... closer... closer... and...
"WAIT!" I yelled, nearly skidding into the man. I held out my arms to emphasize my interjection. He looked at me, bewildered. "We both want the figure, right?" He nodded. "But I'm guessing you want something else, too." He eagerly nodded. "What did you want?"
"The Whip-Cracking Figure. Why?" He asked incredulously.
"I'll take this figure and help you track down the other, okay?" He was apprehensive at first, but finally agreed. We each scoured every open shelf, trying desperately to find the treasured figure.
Nothing. That's exactlly what we found. Nothing. As I faced defeat and almost gave the guy the Talking figure out of courtesy, I turned to face the shelves line with foam alphabet letters.
No! It cannot be! Would they use my own Indy knowledge against me?!?! I thought, my suspicion growing. I reached out to the green "X" and pushed it aside. From the shadowy depths, the brown and gold packaging of an Indiana Jones box appeared. I slowly pulled the box out, like a fine wine, hoping that we met success. Sure enough, it was the coveted Whip-Cracking variety. I handed him the box, he handed me mine. We shook hands and wished good days to each other. You may be wondering why I shared such an extraneous account with such esteemed colleagues as yourselves. Well let me explain...
I truly realized something then. I noticed the comraderie that all Indyfans have. We are "all in this together." If we find something, we let others know. If we find the final piece in our collection, and someone else cannot, we help. It is an inspiring tale to experience as I did. But the moral of this story is, that when you are hunting a collectable or otherwise, it doesn't hurt to stop and help someone out.
Again, I thought I'd share.
You see, the stockboys have come to despise me. I buy figures, they must work to put some back on the racks. So, they started hiding some of the merchandise. I'd find a whip there and a Cemetery Warrior here. But back to the story...
I heard a conversation taking place. I tried not to eaves-drop, but when someone is screaming, you tend to notice. One man was interrogating a worker as to EXACTLY when the next crates of something were coming in. "Well, they BETTER be in by tomorrow, or I'll take this to management!" The man claimed. I rounded the corner, my head high, not making the realization that...
The man came into view. In his arms were stacks, I mean 4-figure-high stacks, of Indiana Jones 3 3/4" action figures. He looked at me, predicting my own intentions. I stared at the last Talking Jones 12" on the shelf, gleaming between us. Just my luck, it was in just about the exact center of the row. The man looked at me, me at him, the both of us at the figure. He grinned, I followed suit. Sudden'y, he broke into a full sprint, straight toward the prize. I dashed ahead, trying to outrun him. We advanced, closer... closer... closer... and...
"WAIT!" I yelled, nearly skidding into the man. I held out my arms to emphasize my interjection. He looked at me, bewildered. "We both want the figure, right?" He nodded. "But I'm guessing you want something else, too." He eagerly nodded. "What did you want?"
"The Whip-Cracking Figure. Why?" He asked incredulously.
"I'll take this figure and help you track down the other, okay?" He was apprehensive at first, but finally agreed. We each scoured every open shelf, trying desperately to find the treasured figure.
Nothing. That's exactlly what we found. Nothing. As I faced defeat and almost gave the guy the Talking figure out of courtesy, I turned to face the shelves line with foam alphabet letters.
No! It cannot be! Would they use my own Indy knowledge against me?!?! I thought, my suspicion growing. I reached out to the green "X" and pushed it aside. From the shadowy depths, the brown and gold packaging of an Indiana Jones box appeared. I slowly pulled the box out, like a fine wine, hoping that we met success. Sure enough, it was the coveted Whip-Cracking variety. I handed him the box, he handed me mine. We shook hands and wished good days to each other. You may be wondering why I shared such an extraneous account with such esteemed colleagues as yourselves. Well let me explain...
I truly realized something then. I noticed the comraderie that all Indyfans have. We are "all in this together." If we find something, we let others know. If we find the final piece in our collection, and someone else cannot, we help. It is an inspiring tale to experience as I did. But the moral of this story is, that when you are hunting a collectable or otherwise, it doesn't hurt to stop and help someone out.
Again, I thought I'd share.
