Yesterday, my wife and I made a trip to Sam’s Club. One of the joys of going to Sam’s, aside from the free samples they hand out, is the free sample machine. It is a stand-alone electronic kiosk that doles out free samples of whatever product they choose when you scan your card. The majority of the time, all the free samples have been given away when I get there, leaving me empty-handed and broken-hearted.
This time, I was lucky enough to have made it while there were still some samples left. (Sadly, the usual sample passer-outers were nowhere in sight.) The sample this week was a Clif Bar. I scanned my card for the first free treat, then scanned my wife’s card for a second. (Don’t worry, this is totally legal.) Seeing as I typically go to Sam’s hungry, this was a welcome relief. I ripped open the package and tore into the 2 bite sample.
I don’t know if you have ever tried a Clif Bar. I had not up to this point. I think they are marketed for outdoorsy type people, who like to hike and camp and whatnot. Now I know why. These things taste exactly like what you would expect to eat if you were stuck on the side of a cliff, foraging for something, anything to eat, just to keep yourself alive. I commented this to my wife, as I painfully devoured the second and last bite of this life saving “treat.”
As I tried to swallow the dry, bark-tasting, chocolate covered bar, I found myself now in need of a river or something from which to sip some water to choke it down. Oh, to be hiking up the side of a mountain with a stream running down the side, as you make your way to a pristine waterfall, having ignored the “Trail is difficult” warning.
As we left Sam’s, with me trying to get some moisture back in my throat, my wife turns to me and says, “Here. I’ll leave this in your car. That way, you can have a snack if you die.”
Thanks.
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