If Sam Walton (Wal-Mart founder) were still alive, he'd be horrified at the state of Wal-Mart today. Not financially--Sam's heirs are rolling in greenbacks. I'm talking about the scum who are slowly but surely turning a visit to Wal-Mart into a visit to Dante's third ring of Hell.
I've seen a lot of Wal-Marts. Big ones, small ones, Super Wal-Marts and Crappy Wal-Marts. Being in the military, our family usually ends up being stationed within 30 minutes of a Wal-Mart. It's fate. One thing that I've noticed though: no matter where the Wal-Mart is, the vermin are sure to follow. And I'm not talking 4-legged vermin, either!
Wal-Mart has become a Who's Who in mental illness. A sampler platter of the insane. Case in point, my reluctant visit to our local Wal-Mart store. Normally, I avoid our town's Wal-Mart like the black plague. I hate their too-crowded parking lot, I hate the long checkout lines, and the clerks are surly and uneducated. ("S'over thataway. I dunno where...mebby I can call someone...?") Unfortunately, I had to buy some items that could ONLY be found at Wal-Mart. No. Not nuclear fuel rods, but miniature cans of PlayDough. SO...off I went.
Bad, bad choice.
I get to Wal-Mart, scrunch my van into the Unknown Parking Space (located next to the Outer Mongolian border) and after hiking for what seems an eternity--dragged my ass into the store. Special Treat #1, the AC is running low and the store is about 90 degrees and moist. Smells of old socks and BO. ICK. I slog to the kid's department and start trekking up and down the cavernous aisles looking for the dough. Special Treat #2, to save electricity (?), the lights are not all on in the aisles, so things are dark. I notice a guy at the end of the row, looking at action figures or something. I finally find what I'm looking for in the middle of the row but as I grab the cannister of PlayDough, I notice the guy coming towards me. This draws my attention, so I look up.
Librarians. You KNOW that you have "INSANE FREAK RADAR". This is the ability to instantly recognize a complete lunatic at 25 paces-- even before they've screamed out their first ridiculous request. Maybe it's the eyes? Maybe it's the walk? I don't know. Anyway, I KNEW this guy was a freak. A flippin' nutjob. Yes, I was right. He walks towards me and starts yelling, "I know you can show me where the secret buttons are! WHERE ARE THEY?" Yeek. What do I look like, Reference for the Terminally Insane? I wheel my cart around (hang on, baby!) and zoom away, hoping like hell he won't leap onto my back and try to locate a call button in my entrails.
I kept getting glimpses of him throughout the store, harassing customers and clerks. NOBODY DID ANYTHING. Maybe he was low on the insane fruit tree? Maybe someone worse was around? Were they busy dealing with a gang riot in the Baby Department or a cannibalistic attack in Audio? Who knows? I looked around at the dirty, unwashed masses of swine all milling around the store and realized that indeed, that guy was pretty much the norm.
It was time to check out.
2 comments:
O--M--G!!
I used to go to WalMart, telling myself that it was handy and inexpensive. I no longer care about handy and inexpensive.
People wonder why I buy so much stuff online--WalMart. We're getting a brand new SuperWalMart right here in our own town, and I have no intention of setting foot in the place.
Life is too short to worry about saving a few bucks while trying to get out of WalMart alive.
I'm sorry you don't care for Walmart, but I would kill to be able to go into a Walmart right now. I've got a PX, but they try to have so many things that they only have a couple of each thing. If what you are looking for is a popular item you have got to be there while they are taking off the barge or you will have to wait for the next one.
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