Wal-Mart is out to get me
The world's largest retailer is a living, snarling predator, and it is seeking to take me in its sharp, menacing jaws and clamp down on my throat, bleeding me to death in order to devour me. Hyperbole is the best thing ever. What did I, a lone, nasal voice with a humble blog read mostly by the blogger himself, do to deserve such treatment?
Alright, so maybe I've spent a lot of time proclaiming its evils. A lot of time. I have a feeling that when I find myself in the company of two or more people I had not met before, and said company is later discussing the events of the day, upon reaching the point of the day in which they met me, they will say, "Dude, what did Wal-Mart ever do to that guy?"
- I went in one night (admittedly slightly late, but 11 PM doesn't seem so late to a store open 24 hours) to get a copy of a key. I walked counter where the key-copying machine was located, but there was no associate there. I walked around the department, but still no help. Finally I made my way back to the counter, where there was now an employee. I asked about key-copying as I placed my key on the counter. The employee looked at it, apparently stupefied by its very keyness. He not so politely explained that he didn't know how to use the machine. He was at least bright enough to know what I was going to ask next before I got the chance, explaining that he didn't think anyone who did know how to use the machine was in at the moment.
- The same night, I was trying to buy some deodorant. After I found the brand I wanted in the shopping cart sitting in front of the deodorant, I headed to the registers. I thought they were registers. I walked to the cashier that didn't have 10 people in line. The woman at the register looked at the lone item in my hand, took the drawer out of her register and walked away. I backed away and looked at the now only available register, looking more and more like a Soviet bread line. I turned around and saw a woman standing at that goofy podium thing in the middle of the register area. I was about to ask if there was somewhere else that I could go to pay for my deodorant, but I suddenly shivered at the thought that she might suggest the counter where the key-copying takes place. I decided I was better off alienating anyone with whom I came in contact with my offensive odor.
- My wife was under the weather, so I thought I was doing a good thing by going to Wal-Mart for the things I needed to bring home. One stop, no hassle, no problem. After already having retrieved the tissues and heating pad, I headed to the food aisles for a couple of cans of beef broth (she doesn't like chicken soup). The cans were on the top shelf. I reached up with my left hand and gripped two stacked cans. As I brought them down to my cart, I was attacked by 10 or so other cans. Apparently the cans were so badly dented from other attacks on helpless shoppers that they would not stack properly. The screaming child in the aisle gave me a dirty look.
(I have given only the highlights, as there are plenty of example. Even my wife, a sometimes Wal-Mart supporter, has admitted that I am a magnet for trouble at that place)
Yes, I know, why do I keep going in there? Well not unlike Survivor, death and indigestion at Krystal restaurants, Wal-Mart at times seems practically unavoidable. And besides, who would the ghost of Sam Walton haunt if I never set foot in a store again? No, I think my curiosity is much too morbid to stop now. What can happen next? Perhaps that smiley face won't stop at slashing prices.
I must admit that I am not completely averse to the big box store either. While some may not see the difference (and they're right to a point), I love the Target. I recently purchased season 2 of Arrested Development for the very low price of $27.99. That show is by far the greatest thing Ron Howard has ever had any part in creating.
Gonna find my baby
Gonna hold her tight
Gonna grab some afternoon delight
- The Starland Vocal Band, "Afternoon Delight"
Posted by Joel at 10/17/2005 10:39:00 PM
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