I hate Wal Mart. This is not new news to anyone who follows my blog, follows me on Twitter or Facebook, or (gasp) knows me in real life. I hate the dirty grimy floors, the jam packed aisles, the never stocked shelves, the apathetic employees. I could go on and on. But, I have a
Each time I go grocery shopping, I literally circle the parking lot, trying to steel myself against the horrors within. The rudeness, the smell, the crowding. Sometimes I huddle in my parked car, saying a prayer that I don't get stabbed, and can get out within a 4 hour window of time. It's just that bad.
What happens to people when they cross that metallic threshold? Something grabs hold of them and rips out any semblance of politeness they ever came in contact with. I'm not kidding! You had better wear a cup (for the guys) and full body pads, just to wrestle away the last can of corn from that freakishly strong old lady.
I have had two experiences in the last week that just sent me over the edge. The first was a simple trip. I had to run and get baby Motrin for Chunky Monkey, as he is sick. And the hubs requested a chocolate malt cup. So, here I am, no cart, no hand held basket. Just a box of Motrin and 2 malt cups in hand. (You didn't think I wasn't going to get one, too, did you??) I gaze at the sea of people and checkout lanes in front of me. Every lane that is open, is about 3 people deep. With huge, overflowing carts. So, I find a lane that looks promising, and I see somebody else with the same look of determination on their face. She starts making a break for the line, pushing her 300 pound cart. And cuts in front of me, while knocking me aside.
Are you FREAKING KIDDING ME??? She has eleventy seven bags worth of groceries. I have a 60 second transaction with THREE items. Three. No matter where I am, if somebody like that gets behind me in line, I tell them to go ahead of me. I know how it is. You need to run it, get whatever, and get out. I'm more than happy to use COMMON COURTESY, and allow that person to do this. Not this asshat. So, there I stood for 25 minutes with melting ice cream, to buy $6.48 cents worth of items.
The other incident was also check out related. I had done major grocery shopping, so I had a pretty full cart. I just got in a line, and starting unloading. It takes a while to unload 2 weeks worth of food, but usually whoever is in front of me is done before I have an empty basket. Not this time. I finish and happen to glance up. The cashier caught my eye and mouthed "I'm sorry". So, I started paying attention. The
I start listening to the conversation, and the lady is arguing over the price of every. single. item. For instance: she brought up a 3 pound pre packaged bag of onions I think it was. I won't even get started on what one needs with 3 pounds of onion, but whatever. So, it's a prepacked net bag. She tells the lady it's .39 a pound (or whatever price it was, I don't remember). The cashier (nicely) asks to see the ad. The woman grumbles about it, shuffles through the ads and hands it over. The cashier begins explaining that the price is only on single onions that you purchase and sack up by the pound yourself. As in, get a plastic produce bag, and pick 'em out yourself. Not the prepackaged bags. The customer about freaking lost it. She is arguing, arguing, arguing about the fact that there's no difference, and it's still 3 pounds, and she's too old to pack up onions herself. This went on for 23 minutes, each time a new item was rung up.
ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME??? If you want to price match, fine. Do it. But stop trying to rip off a store (even though I hate it) that is nice enough to allow price matching. If you have a legitimate price match, great. But stop making up your own, and saying you lost the ad. Stop trying to substitute stuff that isn't on the corresponding ad. And stop spending a half hour arguing about prices. Don't be an asshat. That is the moral of the story.
So how about you? Do you hate Wal Mart? Or, are you one of the people that I mentioned above? If you are, and I ever happen to chuck a can of refried beans at your head, I'm not really sorry.