Wal*Mart
A little while ago I happened to shop a nearby Wal*Mart, supposedly the greatest store in the entire known universe.
That’s what my siblings all tell me, and the fact I don’t like it means I’m of-the-Devil.
This Wal*Mart is inconvenient.
They weren’t able to locate right on the main drag.
They share an entrance with mighty Lowes, and are off to the side.
I was looking for a supplemental electric heater, much like EdenPure®.
My neighbor across the street has one, and it seems fine.
So my wife bought one at a nearby hardware.
1,500 watts, it said.
“For crying out loud!” I shouted.
“It’ll be spinning the electric meter like a 78 rpm record.
Plug it in, and the level of Lake Erie will drop a foot!”
We took it back.
“Try Wal*Mart,” I was told.
“You can probably get an equivalent unit for $100 less.”
So I went to Wal*Mart.
I treaded gingerly into the vast store in search of an EdenPure®-like space heater.
Got kissed by a urine-smelling geezer as I walked in the entrance.
Got panhandled by a patriotic button-festooned vet selling tiny American flags.
Giant videos were shouting at me to spend-spend-spend.
Big-screen TVs in their video department.
Lady’s undies displayed on buxom Victoria’s Secret teenyboppers — Wal*Mart’s secret?
There was no rhyme or reason to the store layout.
Stuff was heaped in disarray anywhere and everywhere.
Overloaded display tables screaming at you with loud audio.
I dared not ask a store-associate.
Prior experience!
I did so some time ago, and got snapped at for interrupting their donut break.
Pudgy associates glomming donuts as they jogged toward the break-room.
I managed to stumble upon the heaters, but they weren’t like EdenPure®.
I ran from the store.
Over to mighty Lowes.
Much like Wal*Mart, but more organized and friendly.
Everything in long rows, with signs you can read from a distance.
And help like Ralph Calabrese (“kalla-BREE-zee;” as in “Al”), the local veterans’ advocate, a Korean War vet.
And other store-associates that don’t snap atcha.
Ask where something is, and they walk ya to it.
Still, not much heater selection. Nothing like EdenPure®.
I guess we end up spinning the electric meter — contributing to the greenhouse effect.
Future generations will be unable to breathe, because we wanted to heat the back porch.
• My siblings are all tub-thumping Conservative Christians.
• My wife of almost 42 years is “Linda.”
That’s what my siblings all tell me, and the fact I don’t like it means I’m of-the-Devil.
This Wal*Mart is inconvenient.
They weren’t able to locate right on the main drag.
They share an entrance with mighty Lowes, and are off to the side.
I was looking for a supplemental electric heater, much like EdenPure®.
My neighbor across the street has one, and it seems fine.
So my wife bought one at a nearby hardware.
1,500 watts, it said.
“For crying out loud!” I shouted.
“It’ll be spinning the electric meter like a 78 rpm record.
Plug it in, and the level of Lake Erie will drop a foot!”
We took it back.
“Try Wal*Mart,” I was told.
“You can probably get an equivalent unit for $100 less.”
So I went to Wal*Mart.
I treaded gingerly into the vast store in search of an EdenPure®-like space heater.
Got kissed by a urine-smelling geezer as I walked in the entrance.
Got panhandled by a patriotic button-festooned vet selling tiny American flags.
Giant videos were shouting at me to spend-spend-spend.
Big-screen TVs in their video department.
Lady’s undies displayed on buxom Victoria’s Secret teenyboppers — Wal*Mart’s secret?
There was no rhyme or reason to the store layout.
Stuff was heaped in disarray anywhere and everywhere.
Overloaded display tables screaming at you with loud audio.
I dared not ask a store-associate.
Prior experience!
I did so some time ago, and got snapped at for interrupting their donut break.
Pudgy associates glomming donuts as they jogged toward the break-room.
I managed to stumble upon the heaters, but they weren’t like EdenPure®.
I ran from the store.
Over to mighty Lowes.
Much like Wal*Mart, but more organized and friendly.
Everything in long rows, with signs you can read from a distance.
And help like Ralph Calabrese (“kalla-BREE-zee;” as in “Al”), the local veterans’ advocate, a Korean War vet.
And other store-associates that don’t snap atcha.
Ask where something is, and they walk ya to it.
Still, not much heater selection. Nothing like EdenPure®.
I guess we end up spinning the electric meter — contributing to the greenhouse effect.
Future generations will be unable to breathe, because we wanted to heat the back porch.
• My siblings are all tub-thumping Conservative Christians.
• My wife of almost 42 years is “Linda.”
posted by BobbaLew at 6:31 AM
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