Mighty Wal*Mart
Anyone who reads this here blog knows yrs trly abhors Mighty Wal*Mart.
Much to the vocal dismay of my siblings who all loudly assert Wal*Mart is the greatest store in the entire universe.
And that I am of-the-Devil for not liking it.
I have numerous unpleasant shopping experiences at Wal*Mart:
—1) On entering the store once I was hugged and kissed by a urine-smelling geezer-greeter.
—2) I was snapped at by two store-associates for having the awful temerity and unmitigated gall and horrific audacity to dare ask where something was, thereby interrupting their day-long donut-break.
But I needed socks, and an electric toothbrush.
“Wal*Mart has everything!” I’m loudly told.
“Sure, find it,” I say.
I treaded tentatively into the store, past someone under a tent selling homemade pastries, and a Vietnam vet peddling poppies.
Thankfully, I was not bussed by a geezer-greeter, nor was I accosted by anyone.
Now, find socks in this vast store.
I noticed “Mens Fashions” and ambled toward that.
I managed to stumble upon a display of boys socks.
“May I help you, sir?” bubbled a grinning store-associate.
Seems I’ve been knighted with age.
“These are boys socks; you want mens.”
“But I have small feet, size 6&1/2,” I said; “I been through this before.”
We hobbled toward mens socks.
“I stubbed my toe,” the store-associate said.
“Well I have achy knees,” I said.
“People bellow at me for not walking fast enough. They insist I walk at the speed of light. Tolerance is for wusses!”
We decided on mens small socks; “Made in Honduras,” it said.
“Probably by child slave-labor in steaming sweat-shops,” I thought.
“I’ll try them, but only if I can return,” I said.
“Sure,” she bubbled.
“Now,” I said; “I’m also looking for electric toothbrushes.”
“Past ‘Pharmacy’ to ‘Health and Beauty Aids,’ about an aisle in.”
“Gack!” I said. “I have no idea where that is. I’ve been in this store maybe once before.”
We hobbled to an open area.
“See ‘Pharmacy?’” she said, pointing.
Perusing the electric toothbrushes I found a Philips Sonocare®, $99.96.
Philips Sonocare was highly recommended by my dental hygienist.
I had a $10 coupon, so I bought it.
Checking the Philips online site when I got home I found the same toothbrush for $99.99.
Yes, indeed Wal*Mart had the lowest price, if you consider three cents a substantial saving.
I don’t consider three cents an adequate offset to -a) getting hugged by a urine-smelling geezer-greeter, and/or -b) getting snapped at by store-associates.
“But Philips would probably require shipping and handling,” my wife said.
“Yes, they probably would,” I said; “but I probably burned a dollar’s worth of gas getting to-and-from that Wal*Mart, contributing to pollution.”
Wal*Mart is about a mile beyond the grocery where I often shop.
Before leaving I decided to peruse Wal*Mart’s grocery section.
Bananas are 47¢ per pound, 49¢ at the grocery I usually shop at.
A saving of perhaps six cents in my case — for which I get to burn a dollar’s worth of gas.
Plus bananas at Wal*Mart are small and intensely green. Those not green look like they were used to bat plums around.
“Hey Erin, lob me that there peach, and I’ll smash it into the ozone.”
I also decided to peruse the candy aisle, in search of exotic dark-chocolates.
The kind of stuff I buy fairly often.
Down the aisle I went; acres of bagged Hershey’s sweets, but no exotic dark-chocolates.
Next aisle over was Froot Loops available in 250-pound sacks.
Proving yet again, Wal*Mart caters to the sugar-hit crowd, and those buying in bulk.
What am I gonna do with 250 pounds of Cheerios?
I don’t even buy processed cereals; too much salt, and I can taste it.
What I buy is funky foods: e.g. Arrowhead Mills unsalted puffed cereal from Amazon, and bulk oats from Tops.
Corn-Flakes is dreadful; like eating ocean seaweed.
By the time I get to the last of 250 pounds, it rots!
I walked out — PASS!
At age-67, my knees ache, and I feel like I’m falling apart.
But seeing all those flaccid Wal*Mart patrons, I don’t feel so bad.
Grotesque obese ladies in bloated short-shorts, and sagging oxygenated geezers in motorized carts. And I bet I’m older than they are. —They looked bedraggled, except those dunking their heads in Grecian Formula.
I checked out behind a flaccid grandma trying to finagle some angle on her Wal*Mart credit-card.
Her tattooed unmarried daughter, full of facial steel, was pushing the cart. Her overweight baby was zonked out in the child-seat.
“I almost forgot the Mountain-Dew,” she chirped loudly to grandma.
She had also purchased a sippy-cup.
BIP!
• “Tops” is a large supermarket-chain based in Buffalo we occasionally buy groceries at. They have a store in nearby Canandaigua. (“Canandaigua” [“cannan-DAY-gwuh”] is a small city to the east of where we live in Western NY. The city is also within a rural town called “Canandaigua.” The name is Indian, and means “Chosen Spot.” It’s about 15 miles away. We live in the small rural town of West Bloomfield in Western NY, southeast of Rochester.)
Much to the vocal dismay of my siblings who all loudly assert Wal*Mart is the greatest store in the entire universe.
And that I am of-the-Devil for not liking it.
I have numerous unpleasant shopping experiences at Wal*Mart:
—1) On entering the store once I was hugged and kissed by a urine-smelling geezer-greeter.
—2) I was snapped at by two store-associates for having the awful temerity and unmitigated gall and horrific audacity to dare ask where something was, thereby interrupting their day-long donut-break.
But I needed socks, and an electric toothbrush.
“Wal*Mart has everything!” I’m loudly told.
“Sure, find it,” I say.
I treaded tentatively into the store, past someone under a tent selling homemade pastries, and a Vietnam vet peddling poppies.
Thankfully, I was not bussed by a geezer-greeter, nor was I accosted by anyone.
Now, find socks in this vast store.
I noticed “Mens Fashions” and ambled toward that.
I managed to stumble upon a display of boys socks.
“May I help you, sir?” bubbled a grinning store-associate.
Seems I’ve been knighted with age.
“These are boys socks; you want mens.”
“But I have small feet, size 6&1/2,” I said; “I been through this before.”
We hobbled toward mens socks.
“I stubbed my toe,” the store-associate said.
“Well I have achy knees,” I said.
“People bellow at me for not walking fast enough. They insist I walk at the speed of light. Tolerance is for wusses!”
We decided on mens small socks; “Made in Honduras,” it said.
“Probably by child slave-labor in steaming sweat-shops,” I thought.
“I’ll try them, but only if I can return,” I said.
“Sure,” she bubbled.
“Now,” I said; “I’m also looking for electric toothbrushes.”
“Past ‘Pharmacy’ to ‘Health and Beauty Aids,’ about an aisle in.”
“Gack!” I said. “I have no idea where that is. I’ve been in this store maybe once before.”
We hobbled to an open area.
“See ‘Pharmacy?’” she said, pointing.
Perusing the electric toothbrushes I found a Philips Sonocare®, $99.96.
Philips Sonocare was highly recommended by my dental hygienist.
I had a $10 coupon, so I bought it.
Checking the Philips online site when I got home I found the same toothbrush for $99.99.
Yes, indeed Wal*Mart had the lowest price, if you consider three cents a substantial saving.
I don’t consider three cents an adequate offset to -a) getting hugged by a urine-smelling geezer-greeter, and/or -b) getting snapped at by store-associates.
“But Philips would probably require shipping and handling,” my wife said.
“Yes, they probably would,” I said; “but I probably burned a dollar’s worth of gas getting to-and-from that Wal*Mart, contributing to pollution.”
Wal*Mart is about a mile beyond the grocery where I often shop.
Before leaving I decided to peruse Wal*Mart’s grocery section.
Bananas are 47¢ per pound, 49¢ at the grocery I usually shop at.
A saving of perhaps six cents in my case — for which I get to burn a dollar’s worth of gas.
Plus bananas at Wal*Mart are small and intensely green. Those not green look like they were used to bat plums around.
“Hey Erin, lob me that there peach, and I’ll smash it into the ozone.”
I also decided to peruse the candy aisle, in search of exotic dark-chocolates.
The kind of stuff I buy fairly often.
Down the aisle I went; acres of bagged Hershey’s sweets, but no exotic dark-chocolates.
Next aisle over was Froot Loops available in 250-pound sacks.
Proving yet again, Wal*Mart caters to the sugar-hit crowd, and those buying in bulk.
What am I gonna do with 250 pounds of Cheerios?
I don’t even buy processed cereals; too much salt, and I can taste it.
What I buy is funky foods: e.g. Arrowhead Mills unsalted puffed cereal from Amazon, and bulk oats from Tops.
Corn-Flakes is dreadful; like eating ocean seaweed.
By the time I get to the last of 250 pounds, it rots!
I walked out — PASS!
At age-67, my knees ache, and I feel like I’m falling apart.
But seeing all those flaccid Wal*Mart patrons, I don’t feel so bad.
Grotesque obese ladies in bloated short-shorts, and sagging oxygenated geezers in motorized carts. And I bet I’m older than they are. —They looked bedraggled, except those dunking their heads in Grecian Formula.
I checked out behind a flaccid grandma trying to finagle some angle on her Wal*Mart credit-card.
Her tattooed unmarried daughter, full of facial steel, was pushing the cart. Her overweight baby was zonked out in the child-seat.
“I almost forgot the Mountain-Dew,” she chirped loudly to grandma.
She had also purchased a sippy-cup.
BIP!
• “Tops” is a large supermarket-chain based in Buffalo we occasionally buy groceries at. They have a store in nearby Canandaigua. (“Canandaigua” [“cannan-DAY-gwuh”] is a small city to the east of where we live in Western NY. The city is also within a rural town called “Canandaigua.” The name is Indian, and means “Chosen Spot.” It’s about 15 miles away. We live in the small rural town of West Bloomfield in Western NY, southeast of Rochester.)
posted by BobbaLew at 8:32 AM
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