By now, we all know how much I dislike (LOATHE with every fiber of my being) Walmart. I rarely (never) have a pleasant experience. If I am in a good mood before walking in, I am angry at the world (demon possessed) by the time I leave. If I am in a bad mood, I am something just short of Satan himself upon leaving. I often describe Walmart as the place where "souls go to die." It literally sucks every happy thought and feeling right out of you. It is the antithesis of Walt Disneyworld. (There is NOTHING magical about it!)
Despite entering the Seventh Circle of Hell, there are some things that get to me (almost every.single.time.).
1. The Peanut Butter Disappearing Act
No matter how hard I try, I can NEVER find the effin' peanut butter!! At first, I thought it was because I cannot stand peanut butter and used to never purchase it. (I hated it as a child, and I still do as an adult. I mean, WHY ON EARTH would one want ingest a food that tries to suffocate them on the way down their throat?!) However, now that I am married and have children, it is a household staple. It seems like a simple enough task: "Buy peanut butter." Nonetheless, I absolutely cringe, when I see it on the grocery list.
Over the years, I have become convinced that moving (hiding) the peanut butter is something the stockers do for shits and giggles. Knowing their sick game, I even pause in the middle of the store and think to myself, "Where is the most logical place to stock peanut butter?! "(Then, I go in the opposite direction.) Depending upon the particular Walmart location (and what phase the Moon is in), sometimes it can be found in the Ketchup Aisle (also a condiment, so perhaps), the Baking Aisle (odd, but maybe for cookies), or the Breakfast Aisle (WTF?!). It is always so perplexing and frustrating. Almost 90% of the time, when shopping for the ill-fated food, I end up having to walk back through numerous aisles, slowly scanning the shelves, hoping it hops off and into my cart. It typically ends the same: finally giving up and asking a nearby associate, only to have them point directly in front of my face. (Why is whatever you are searching for RIGHT THERE, once you ask?!)
Personally, I vote peanut butter should be stocked in a separate aisle all by itself or sitting on the shelf next to the arsenic and cyanide. (Seriously, I think it would be much easier to kill someone with a handkerchief and a fistful of peanut butter. Plus, it would be harder to prove foul play.) I would, also, settle for peanut butter stocked with the bread. (Common Sense, Folks!)
Oooooh..no, I got it!! It should be in an aisle with other items, such as lemon juice, the Ranch powder packet thingies used to make dips and/or salad dressings, straws, Velveeta cheese blocks, toothpicks, cans of pineapple juice, and Q-Tips. The aisle would be called, "SHIT THAT IS HARD TO FIND." (I really feel this idea is a mere step or two away from my discovering the answer to World Peace, People!)
2. The Empty Line Trap
(Read carefully! THIS.IS.IMPORTANT!)
Walmart never has enough checkout lanes open, and they are always 5+ people deep. Never.Ever.NEVER trust the "Empty Line Trap!" ("What is this infamous ELT?" you ask. Allow me to set the scene.)
You are merrily bebopping along. Perhaps, you have (somehow) managed to finish your shopping, without so much as a hitch. ("Congrats, you stupid Bitch! I hate you!!) You push your cart toward the checkout lanes and start the "Vulture Pass." (You know, the pass you make once - sometimes more - searching for the lane with the best number of people in line to the number of items in their carts ratio. Vultures do the same thing, when flying over dead carcasses, except they assess the number of other vultures currently eating to the amount of dead animal left.)
During your second (fifth) pass, you come across what you then believe to be the Holy Grail of checkout lanes: one with an EMPTY line! Your brain starts going berserk, as you take in a 0:0 ratio, which computes to a #1 sports foam finger and a 103% awesome rating! (The sad part is that the serotonin levels in your brain - mind boosting neurotransmitter responsible for fluffy puppy excitement and leaf crunching happiness - have spiked waaay beyond the level of sanity and, apparently, mental math.)
Although you should approach cautiously and with some level of deductive reasoning, you push your cart toward the cashier in a flurry of blind elation, while performing some ridiculously, euphoric skip. (Oh yes, you do!) Never once did you stop to think about WHY this was the only lane in the ENTIRE store sitting empty. No, no! You.Were.On.A.Cloud! (You simply failed to realize it was a Black Cloud.)
The moment you pull up to the conveyor belt, one of several things are bound to occur. A) The cashier walks away, presumably to take a break, but more likely it is her turn to hide the peanut butter. B) The cashier refuses to check you out, as Bob is supposed to come relieve her, and she will be DAMNED if she works two more minutes than her schedule depicts. (She would rather just stand there and stare at you, while she holds her cash drawer and waits for Bob, who is NOT effin' coming!!) C) She becomes the Conversational Cashier.
3. The Conveyor Belt of Doom
(If you do not have OCD, I suggest skipping this part. You simply will not understand.)
Like most people with OCD, I am very systematic. This, of course, carries over into cart unloading. For me, I like to unload the heaviest items first (so they can be reloaded first, at the bottom of the cart), followed by boxed items, refrigerated items, soft items, and non-food items. (I get VERY upset, when my toothpaste is bagged with my bread!) My ideal lane is one where there is already another person in line (but ONLY one). I get the chance to use a plastic divider (my weapon of choice, if I am in the store when the Zombie Apocalypse starts) and place my items upon the conveyor belt in a sensical (IT IS AN ADJECTIVE IN MY BOOK!), orderly, and "all labels facing the same direction" way. (Pure logic.) I start to flat out panic, when I am in the middle of the unloading process, when the cashier fires up the conveyor belt. (I believe to watch me unspool.)
At first, I think I can keep up and quickly hasten my unload pace. However, I always fall behind, as I frantically dig through my cart to find similar items. Once the panic fully sets in, I start just haphazardly tossing things on the belt (some even directly at the cashier), watching them conveyor (IT IS A VERB IN MY BOOK!) away, now in a line of SINGLE items. (This is EXACTLY how eggs get bagged with toilet paper and macaroni with laundry detergent! THE WORLD IS NOT MEANT TO WORK IN THIS WAY!!) My mind starts to spin, and I begin to black out. I fight it, though, as I know this bitch is purposely effing with me!
4. The Conversational Cashier Stunt
(Did you really think I was going to forget to explain the Conversational Cashier? Where is the trust??)
As if the hell you have had to endure up to this moment has not been enough, you will (occasionally) get the Conversational Cashier. This is the cashier who will NOT shut the eff up! She is chipper. She is chatty. (She is high.) Her sole purpose in life is to make friends (and annoy you). She (genuinely) likes working with the public, as she can trap people into having conversations with her. She starts with small talk, asking you about your day. (You respond with a one word answer.) She may even try the "you look familiar" bit, in hopes you tell her who you are, so that she can stalk you and add you as a friend on Facebook. (I like to go with the, "Possibly. Are you a nurse?" I, then, explain how I was recently released from the mental ward, in which I had just spent the last six months for choking someone out who would not stop talking.) Her last resort is often making direct comments about your item selections. "Look at these fun toys! You must have children!" ("No, I just looooove My Little Ponies.") "OOOoooh! Looks like someone is having a par-TAA-AAAAY!" ("No, I just eat a lot.") "OH MY GOODNESS! ARE YOU GOING TO USE THIS PREGNANCY TEST, TONIGHT?! I HOPE IT IS A GIRL!!" ("It is for my whore of a dog.") "These are some odd items?? A crowbar, rope, duct ta...." **She trails off into silence.** ("I am sorry, what were you saying? Or was I still telling you about the time I killed someone who would not mind her own business?")
5. The Receipt Highlighter Effect
WHY THE EFF DO YOU WANT TO HIGHLIGHT MY RECEIPT?! IT LITERALLY MEANS NOTHING! YOU DO NOT EVEN READ IT (AND WHY WOULD YOU?!?!)! IT DOES NOT CHANGE WHAT I HAVE PURCHASED NOR WHAT I CAN RETURN! YOU ARE PURPOSELY TRYING TO PISS ME OFF (AND IT IS WORKING!!!!)! I SWEAR I WILL SIT OUT THERE IN THE PARKING LOT, IN THE CLOAK OF DARKNESS, AND WAIT FOR YOU TO DRIVE HOME (AND I WILL FOLLOW YOU!!)! IF YOU WANT TO HIGHLIGHT MY RECEIPT, YOU ARE GOING TO HAVE TO WRESTLE ME TO THE GROUND!! IT IS MINE, DAMN IT, AND I HAVE NOT GIVEN YOU PERMISSION TO WRITE ON IT! (I WILL GRANT SAID PERMISSION, ONCE HELL FREEZES OVER!) EFF YOU! EFF YOUR MOTHER! EFF YOUR GRANDMOTHER! I HOPE YOU GET DYSENTERY AND DIE!!!! WHY IN THE HELL ARE YOU CALLING SECURITY?!?!
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