shop at Target
Today I did the unthinkable again and bought something at Wal-Mart. Man I fucking hate Wal-Mart. I don’t hate Wal-Mart because of their unethical business practices, or the fact that they put local mom and pop retail operations out of business. Wal-Mart could lobby to restart the baby seal hunt and I wouldn’t give a damn. I hate Wal-Mart because it is the most unpleasant shopping experience in the history of manufactured goods.
There are actually many reasons why shopping at Wal-Mart is worse than being sodomized by an elephant tusk. For starters, the store is huge. Now this is great when you want to buy 100 different things, but it’s incredibly frustrating when you have to spend half and hour looking for a roll of toilet paper (don’t ask). Not to mention the fact that the staff are so horribly overworked that no one is available to direct you through Wal-Mart’s mazes of plastic crap from China. Those stacked aisles and the hordes of low-income minorities give Wal-Mart the appearance of a Turkish bazaar. I half-expect Indiana Jones to pop out and shoot somebody every time I push my way past a line of poor people. Usually I get by them before I have to listen to long debates about the quality of 2-dollar knives.
Another reason why shopping at Wal-Mart is less fun than listening to an entire Garth Brooks CD is the ridiculous amount of time spent in the check-out line. The only way to even slightly reduce the time spent waiting in line is to pick the right cashier. It is absolutely essential that you use the line manned by the exploited teenager rather than the line in front of the exploited elderly person. Wal-Mart loves to pretend it cares about people by hiring old folks who can no longer buy their medicine with social security checks. Who but a corporation spawned in Hell would put granny to work and call it a good deed. I wouldn’t actually care about how wrong this was if these old, decrepit hags could put things in bags faster. It takes like 20 minutes for them to get through 2 people. Not to mention the fact that old people love to talk to customers because their children don’t love them anymore. I mean if their kids gave a damn, they wouldn’t let their parents work at Wal-Mart, would they? This means every time I go there I have to listen to chitchat at the cash register and be greeted by some old fart getting paid minimum wage just to bother me.
Now, an astute person might wonder why I went to Wal-Mart if I hate it so much. The answer: I am cheap bastard.
Oh and I’m sorry if my rant was a little too misanthropic. Wal-Mart brings out the worst in me.
There are actually many reasons why shopping at Wal-Mart is worse than being sodomized by an elephant tusk. For starters, the store is huge. Now this is great when you want to buy 100 different things, but it’s incredibly frustrating when you have to spend half and hour looking for a roll of toilet paper (don’t ask). Not to mention the fact that the staff are so horribly overworked that no one is available to direct you through Wal-Mart’s mazes of plastic crap from China. Those stacked aisles and the hordes of low-income minorities give Wal-Mart the appearance of a Turkish bazaar. I half-expect Indiana Jones to pop out and shoot somebody every time I push my way past a line of poor people. Usually I get by them before I have to listen to long debates about the quality of 2-dollar knives.
Another reason why shopping at Wal-Mart is less fun than listening to an entire Garth Brooks CD is the ridiculous amount of time spent in the check-out line. The only way to even slightly reduce the time spent waiting in line is to pick the right cashier. It is absolutely essential that you use the line manned by the exploited teenager rather than the line in front of the exploited elderly person. Wal-Mart loves to pretend it cares about people by hiring old folks who can no longer buy their medicine with social security checks. Who but a corporation spawned in Hell would put granny to work and call it a good deed. I wouldn’t actually care about how wrong this was if these old, decrepit hags could put things in bags faster. It takes like 20 minutes for them to get through 2 people. Not to mention the fact that old people love to talk to customers because their children don’t love them anymore. I mean if their kids gave a damn, they wouldn’t let their parents work at Wal-Mart, would they? This means every time I go there I have to listen to chitchat at the cash register and be greeted by some old fart getting paid minimum wage just to bother me.
Now, an astute person might wonder why I went to Wal-Mart if I hate it so much. The answer: I am cheap bastard.
Oh and I’m sorry if my rant was a little too misanthropic. Wal-Mart brings out the worst in me.
posted by Furtive Surf at 10:08 PM
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