Why was WalMart invented? Damn you Sam Walton! That was cruel because he is dead, but seriously WalMart is the panicle of the detriment of our society. There is a website illustrating the strange people you can see there that were once reserved for remote compounds and travelling circus attractions. Have I mentioned previously I am not always politically correct? The one stop convenience draws me in, and unbelievable depreciation of my IQ causes me to get in and get out like I am on some kind of undercover mission. The entire time hoping no one sees me, my activity could not be traced, and I make it out alive. I’m pretty sure training for the CIA includes a trip to WalMart undetected. That being said I tend to avoid the place like the plague, or in a male’s case the CLAP.
If proper research is conducted I’m sure the first WalMart in existence was built on the corner of Trauma St. and Intrigue Blvd. In fact the welcoming sign that is etched into the Statue of Liberty should be above the electronic sliding glass doors, or at least the first nine words.
"Give us your poor, your tired, your huddled masses”
Now, not that I think these words that I type are read by anyone of importance, I should say that it isn’t so much WalMart’s fault for the image I am about to paint. This is strictly my opinion and should not be taken in to account for any decision you make in your life, or where you choose to shop. I am under the impression that as an adult you can read and understand humor and opinions, then draw your own conclusions and make your own decisions. With that let us look upon my scarred psyche from this weekend’s shopping experience.
The mission was to locate and obtain the following items from the enemy compound without being detected inside the perimeter within twenty minutes: hairspray, milk, eggs, imitation crab, and fresh produce. My first instinct that things were not going to go as planned was that I had forgotten a hat to help conceal my identity, although I am never far from a pair of sunglasses. I braved the treacherous wild of the numbered aisles just the same. Long sleeves are a must, so that you can cover the palms of your hands that are pushing the cart that some unsuspecting toddler has just chewed while their mother painstakingly shopped and talked on her cell phone the entire time. I used to use the cell phone conversation as a distraction while completing such missions, but it became a hassle when the conversation caused me to miss parts of the necessary items on my list and I would have to return to the gates of Hell or go without the item. Now, I have decided shopping in WalMart was more of a ninja progression through the store, and ninjas don’t use cell phones. My hands were covered by my sleeves, my standard cart with the one funky wheel was obtained, and I was off….still hatless, but the shades stay on until I have time to make sure I don’t recognize anyone in the produce area. Plums, lettuce, celery, snap peas, green beans, radishes (don’t judge), and yams cost me about 5 minutes. Imitation crab was twenty seconds, the milk and eggs were about forty counting travel time to the back forty acres of the compound, then I was headed to the “Health and Beauty” area. Two minutes later I had my hairspray and was up front looking for a check out. Now, this is where we get into trouble. While I do not condone profiling it is essential when choosing the correct checkout line. One of those do as I say, not as I do kind of things.
Your cashier should be a young girl who looks pissed off at the world. You know the kind with heavy eyeliner and the permanent frown on her face. She is as unenchanted with working there as you are about being there. This promises she won’t make small talk about the items you are buying. If you pick a peppy young girl, she will most likely be talking to the other cashiers and giggling a lot. An older person will want to be friendly and polite, which is a nice gesture, but in this setting completely unnecessary. Chatter can ruin a mission in a heartbeat. I was a little over eight minutes in, and I wanted out fast. As per their usual operational habits there weren’t nearly enough check outs open to accommodate the people trying to escape as there needed to be. If you stay longer, you may purchase more. It is all rigged. If you take children, the longer you spend in the checkout, the more likely they are to want the gimmicky crap items placed so vicariously at their eye level, and we won’t even mention the candy. To my dismay no young pissed off girls were working the lines, and the only express lanes were the self checkout lines, which I REFUSE to use. If I wanted to work for WalMart I would fill out an application. I have gone through late at night to avoid the crowds to find the only thing open were the self checkouts. It was at the moment in life I made my stand and left my full cart at the front of the store. Now, if they wanted to offer a discount for me scanning and bagging my own items, then we might be in business, but they don’t so some stock person got to find out what a single girl would have purchased at 2am.
I avoided the lines with multiple carts, and found one that the cart was empty, all items on the conveyer belt and the girl was standing quietly at the checkout, so I got in that line. This is where my mission hit EPIC fail. A little extra ten seconds of some condemned profiling would have shown why this was a bad choice. Here is the thing, all races have different customs. I don’t care what color or ethnicity you are, there are things that have been handed down from generation to generation that you continue because it is a part of your heritage. These are not bad things, they are just often different than other people’s customs. For instance, in my family, “How the Hell are you?” is an acceptable form of “Hello.” This would not fly in a Jewish or Catholic family. The girl, who was about my age, was of Mexican descent. In this culture the emphasis on family involvement is much greater than mine. Had I looked closer, I would have seen what I am guessing was her aging father, her sister, and her son. However, she was shopping for her entire family and “checked out” six times. Yes, six times she gave the cashier money and received change. And people think profiling is bad. Now, I am not usually a nonjudgmental person. I have friends of all races and creeds, help the old and young alike any various situations, will discuss various religions, philosophies, and politics without holding someone’s opinion against their character. However, my mission had failed, and I had time to watch the scene completely unfold. This young woman was leaning on a 12 pack of Quilted Northern toilet tissues, eagerly watching the total keep displaying on the monitor. I quickly realized she was questioning the purchase of the item based on price, and at some point she would have to make a choice if the TP stayed at WalMart or went home with her. I was eager to find out what made the cut above the TP. Mascara cleared, and then came the eye liner, it cleared…it was at that moment she handed the TP to the cashier to put back. My mother would have beaten my ass for choosing makeup over a clean hiny! OMG! I was shocked, and here is why. She was dressed in acceptable WalMart attire; chucks with no socks, leggings, a t-shirt that barely covered her rump, a hoodie, disheveled hair partly pulled up, and no make-up. The lack of even a trace of make-up is what threw me that it was the eye paint that had pushed her over financial edge. I just can’t even make the obvious jokes because it pains me so. Feel free to add lib at your leisure at this part of the story.
This is why I think WalMart has contributed to the downfall of our society. I have heard it said so many times before, “we are just going to WalMart” when responding to a question of someone’s attire. Yes, it is WalMart, in public that is frequented by people who don’t want to see at your worst. We, as the public, appreciate when people wash themselves, comb their hair, put on clean clothes, and brush their teeth. Soap is incredibly inexpensive, and you don’t have to have designer clothes, but at least have clothes that aren’t covered in stains or so full of holes that the slightest wind could tear them to shreds. No wonder Prozac is being delivered in vending machines, everyone feels like crap because the WalMart scene has lowered the standards so much that we don’t think we have to perform any actions before entering into a public establishment. I walked in behind a guy one time that had obviously shit himself recently, but he thought it might be too much effort to change his pants. Or maybe he was going to buy pants…I’m not sure. I am a bleeding heart liberal in most cases, but in this one self respect area the bitch from within drags out the soapbox and screams to the top of her lungs, “Take a damn shower! Buy a bar of soap and go to the river, but please stop making it a traumatic event for people to buy their frozen vegetables!”
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