Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Satan's Little Grocery
I don’t ask much from you, but if this post has any effect on you at all, please share it with someone else. I’m at my wits end and I don’t know who to turn to other than you.
There is nothing I can do about Wal-Mart. Me complaining to Wal-Mart and expecting any action is about as effective as peeing into the ocean and expecting it to poison Nancy Pelosi’s drinking water.
The government tells us certain companies are simply too big to fail. I say some companies are too big to care. Wal-Mart is too big to care and the $300 a month I spend there means less to them than a mouse sneeze means to the Rocky Mountains.
When you walk into Wal-Mart, signs everywhere say things like “Back to Savings” and “Price Rollback.” The signs might as well read “Give us your money and shut your damn mouth” or “Screw you, we don’t care.”
Why doesn’t Wal-Mart drop the façade already and just give the front line geezers each a Colt .45 and a bottle of Jack? I would prefer when I walk in for the old folks to stop fake greeting me and instead pull out the gun and drunkenly shout “Stick ‘em up!”
We are being taken advantage of, people. Yet we trudge in there 24 hours a day like junkies looking for one last hit. Don’t be tricked by the “good deals.” The last civilization to be this fooled by a seemingly good deal ended up with nothing but itchy blankets and strange red bumps on their skin.
All I wanted was a stick of deodorant, a tube of toothpaste and a thing of baby powder. All I wanted was to make sure your face to face interactions with me were as pleasant for you as possible. Is that asking too much?
Since Wal-Mart hates me, they only opened three cashier stations in the entire campus. So I stood for 17 minutes as the eighth person in a twelve person deep line. All three lines were equally long and stagnant. We did not move up ONE SPOT!
All three lines were being held up by those awful “coupon club” losers. (By the way, if you are one of those people who goes to those coupon clubs and then returns to Wal-Mart to haggle with the mentally challenged cashier to save $0.27 on a box of Totinos pizza, no offense, but I want you to die.)
Not one of the cashier lines were moving. Not once did someone in some sort of manager role come out and do the right thing. It’s not brain surgery…or even cooking ramen, right? Just ask the coupon clubbers to step into a “special saver” office and then gas it. Problem solved.
Look, I’m not heartless. Coupons are great, they save money, they help families stretch the dollar, they drive competitor prices down, etc. But the lady with the REI shorts and hip glasses and Banana Republic pullover can probably afford the extra twelve cents. Her Lexus was not brand new, but I don’t care what you say, a 2009 Lexus SUV is still a reliable automobile. I sincerely hope she accidentally dips her Totinos pizza in her discounted Clorox Bleach and her stomach eats her body from the inside out.
Complaining to Wal-Mart did me no good. I was told by one old man to go see that lady over there. That lady over there told me to find someone in that area. Someone in that area told me they didn’t have the staff to open more cashier stations, even when I pointed out that that lady over there had a name tag that said “cashier”. They “understood my frustration,” but “Unfortunately, there was just absolutely nothing they could do for me”.
My eyes were opened. It finally dawned on me. I felt like an 18th century African guy who finally realized he probably wasn’t on a 10 day luxury cruise. We are slaves to Wal-Mart, and until liberal college kids from the North convince the President to come to our rescue, we will remain under our master’s watchful gaze.