Confessions of an Addict

We all have secrets, little things we keep private, moments in our lives that we hope the world will never see. Somehow though, these things eventually find their way into public view, where the exposure is amplified and put on trial. Often, that new knowledge becomes a media frenzy. Other times, it is less public, but more hurtful, and comes in the form of a patronizing and judgmental glances from whispering circles of the innocent.

Sometimes, the secret boils inside us with a vengeance that cries to be heard, like a Poe conscience, under the floor, knocking on the grain of our guilty souls. Well, my soul is knocking, and I wish to confess.

Several years ago, I became an addict. For years I walked the straight and narrow. I was the one casting the penetrating glances on the afflicted. Maybe that was why I fell. I was feeling really good about myself and thinking, somehow, that I was better than all the rest. Now, I know I am just a brother in life, trying to figure out this complicated and wonderful place called earth. I am more able to see others when they are in their moment of weakness, and lend a hand, because I’ve been there.

Every now and then, I feel the tingle of my own weakness. Lately, it has been stronger. For that reason, I am exposing my addiction, to increase my accountability and let the public know my weakness. I wrote the following letter to a friend after my only rehabilitation. Every day, I fight the demons that lead me down the road to that horrible addiction. Every day, I fight to stay clean. This letter was the first of many, and tells the story the best.


March 6, 2001


Dear Micah:

I know this might come as a surprise to you, but I’ve already been a member of CAW (Citizens Against Walmart). However, the inherent dangers of being "too close to the enemy" have finally caught up with me. Let me tell you how it happened. One fateful Sunday morning, while protesting outside a Wal-Mart in Kalamazoo, I felt the need to get a cup of coffee. The night before, me and a fellow CAW member, while caught up in the passion of our cause, found ourselves entangled as lovers; we fell madly in bed with each other. Before we knew it, we found ourselves looking at 6:00 AM, already late for our consumer clash scheduled for the morning. Although it was a night I won’t soon forget, it left us both weakened and exhausted; I was unable to think clearly - I wondered if I could put a fight up for the day. But, I pulled myself together and somehow made myself believe that I could still be an effective member of the protest team. I asked two team members to prop me up in between a stack of plastic kiddie pools and a lot of Igloo coolers. The coolers, I noticed, were at the unbelievably low price of $19.99 and each one included a beverage jug and a four-place setting. I knew we were in for a long day. The enemy was already pulling all the stops. I remember thinking to myself just before I began to doze, "Don’t they understand, ‘buy it quality, buy it once’. This plastic throw-away world called Wal-Mart doesn’t really save you money!! The Edison light bulb still works!" Fighting off the sleep, clearly not in a useful frame of mind, I thought of my alternatives. Give up? Certainly not - this was a fight for which I would die. Stimulants? Maybe. But before long, I began to doze. Every now and then, I would wake up, reminded of my night of passion from extremely cramped toes. But still, I fought to stay awake. It was then that it happened. In my crippled state of mind, I thought to myself, "What would it hurt if I just went inside and bought a cup of coffee at McDonald’s?" Even though we learned at CAW prep school that the conglomeration of Wal-Mart and McDonald’s was one of the consumer industries most effective strategies ever put into effect, I thought that I was strong enough to handle just getting a cup of coffee. But, what I never learned in prep school was how they placed the McDonald’s at the far end of a long row of falling prices. Little did I know, the onslaught had begun. From the moment I walked into the building, I was bombarded from every direction, Salad Shooters for $10.54, Jumbo Ladies Panties - 4 to a pack for $8.77, a folding cardboard model of Heidi Klum (when did she join this corporate monster?) For $34.89. It had motorized accessories. I started thinking our little brigade couldn’t beat this evil super power. This enemy was relentless. Still, they fired all their weapons. A giant pink panda bear filled with confectionary hearts and HoHo's, only $23.76, my mind began to waver, a set of 28 different philips-head screwdrivers, only $5.33. It never even occurred to me that no one needs that many philips-head screwdrivers. And then it came. The fatal blow. I was dizzy from the falling prices when I saw, out of the corner of my baby-blue-light-special-eyes, a collector’s set from the movie Titanic, with never-before-seen pictures of Leo getting dressed in his Titanic one-piece swimming suit; and interviews with Kate, "Did she have a secret crush on her sexy, boyish co-star?" I had to know. It included six audio cassettes ("What was on those tapes"), the making of video, and a pop-up scrapbook. Micah, it only cost $49.56. I never knew. I had to have it. I forgot about the coffee. I felt like I was alive for the first time in my life. I saw the whole world with new eyes from the inside of this big box. Like the undercover drug enforcement agent who becomes addicted to the drug he meant to take off the street, I was addicted to falling prices. From that day on, I spent all my money at Wal-Mart. When my money was gone, I hit my mother over the head with a 12-pack of Bounty (only $6.25) and I stole money from her vacation fund. It wasn’t until I found myself collecting week-old falling prices signs in the dumpsters behind Wal-Mart that I finally hit rock bottom (not to be confused with rock bottom prices). It was then, with the help of several compassionate friends, that I finally sought help. I learned that I wasn’t alone. There are thousands of people around the world who are addicted to falling prices. It doesn’t matter that most of them are retired and live in Florida, we all have the same addiction. I admitted myself into the Hillary Rodham Center for Falling Prices Addiction in Little Rock, Arkansas, and began a 10 step program to recovery with my fellow octogenarians. That is one reason I’m writing to you. I have reached my final step to recovery. Micah, My name is Greg Olsen. I am addicted to Falling Prices. I am so sorry that I did not emphasize enough, the dangers of shopping at Wal-Mart, their stealth attack of falling prices, and their big box retail outlets. I apologize to you and I will apologize to everyone I’ve ever known for the failure that I've been. Please Micah, never shop at Wal-Mart. If you recognize this story as your own, or one similar to it, please seek help. Wal-Mart sneaks up on the strongest of us. And remember, they contribute to the decline of small town America. I love you man. No man is strong enough. The truth is out there.
Your friend in recovery:
Greg


I am obsessed with rejuvenating small towns. I need help.