WHY, WALMART, WHY?

Walmart has lost its mind and so have I.”

Something bizarre is happening at our local Walmart, and I’m officially treating it like a crime scene.

At my age, I like stability. Predictability. A world where peanut butter stays in the peanut butter aisle and milk doesn’t suddenly relocate like it’s entering witness protection. But lately, as I wander through my LaBelle Walmart, it feels like the entire store has been reorganized by a toddler hopped up on Pixy Stix.

Aisles are disappearing. Items are migrating. The store layout is changing faster than my eyebrows grow. I find I am having trouble locating the anchovies!

And I do not appreciate it.

I’ve said before how much I used to enjoy grocery shopping at Walmart. When we travel the country in our motorhome, we can pull into any Walmart in any state and instantly know where everything is. It was like a comforting, fluorescent-lit hug. Milk? Back left. Bread? Middle right. Beer? Follow the men with the carts and the hopeful expressions.

But now?

Now it’s a full-blown treasure hunt, except there’s no treasure — just frustration and a growing suspicion that Walmart is gaslighting me.

An item that was here yesterday is now three zip codes away. Things I’ve bought for decades have vanished like they were raptured. I wander the aisles looking like a confused extra in a zombie movie. This is not ideal for a man approaching 80 who just wants to buy yogurt without needing a search party.

So to better understand the situation, I turned to the most powerful research tool known to mankind (Google), and here’s what I uncovered:

1. Walmart wants us to wander.

The longer we roam, the more we buy. My routine starts in dairy and ends in beer and produce. Walmart seems determined to break that routine like it’s staging an intervention.

2. They’re rearranging to highlight high-profit items.

Slow sellers get shoved into the abyss. Fast sellers get prime real estate. Everything gets grouped together in ways that make sense only to someone who’s been awake for 36 hours restocking shelves.

3. They want the store to feel “fresh.”

Apparently, nothing kills impulse buying like knowing where things are. So they move everything around and hope we’ll spot something shiny and think, “Well, I didn’t need that, but now I do!”

Well, I say enough is enough.

Corporate, please stop turning my Walmart into a safari. I’m not looking for adventure. I’m looking for mayonnaise. Sure, I enjoy a little excitement — I’ve been known to linger in the hot sauce aisle like a man contemplating his legacy. And yes, searching for toothpicks sometimes leads to discovering gadgets I absolutely do not need, like a watermelon slicer shaped like a medieval weapon.

But still…

The only thing keeping me from completely losing my marbles are the Walmart employees pushing those little blue carts. These folks are the Navy SEALs of retail. They shop for people who can’t (or won’t) shop for themselves, and they know the store better than anyone alive. When I can’t find something — which is now a daily occurrence — they swoop in like grocery store superheroes.

So here’s my plea: leave my store alone.

I’ll behave. I’ll even buy a Hershey bar at checkout now and then. Just stop moving everything like you’re trying to confuse me into buying a kayak.

And by the way, I hear Aldi is building a new store where the old Winn-Dixie was by the airport. I’m not making threats, but if Walmart keeps messing with my sanity, I might just wander into Aldi out of pure spite.

Now… I wonder where those anchovies are?