Late Night, WalMart-Style

First of all, nice people do not go to the WalMart deli an hour before it closes, on a Saturday night when the store is teeming and overflowing with people, half of whom are in line at the deli, and demand that the one lone overworked deli lady fix a large meat, cheese, and fruit party tray for “right now.” Nice people order those a day or so ahead of time, you inconsiderate moron. Also, nice people do not yell at the one lone overworked deli lady and accuse her of being too lazy to serve you when she explains that since she’s alone and there are so many customers waiting, she just doesn’t have time to fix you a party tray. You are a witless wonder, you are. The brochure in your hand specifically stated that it’s wise to order such things well in advance. But then, there was no picture to accompany it; you would have had to READ WORDS. Excuse me for not recognizing your obvious multiple comprehension disabilities and your RBS*, which, of course, explains your behavior quite clearly.

That she was working behind that huge deli alone was not her fault; it was the fault of the store manager, obviously a nitwit, so back off the deli lady and let her help the nice people. She’s got enough problems trying to deal with a manager so stupid that he puts one person behind the busiest part of the store on the busiest night of the week; she doesn’t need your disgraceful display of bad manners and culture-less vocabulary.

Nice people do not allow their children to skate like speed demons all over the store on those repulsive sneakers with little wheels in the heels, either. Nobody was surprised to learn that these nasty little children belonged to the nasty people who reamed out the lone overworked deli lady.

Who invented those sneakers-with-wheels? I hate you. Parents who see nothing wrong in allowing their kids to skate all over the store on these sneakers-with-wheels? There are no words strong enough to convey my disdain for you.

Parents who turn their kids loose in a big store and let them run wild? I hate you, too.

Kids who open packages in a store? Blech. Kids who sit down in the aisle and play roughly with toys that are not theirs? BlechBlech. Bad parents. BAD parents!

Parents who let their kids eat unpaid-for merchandise? coughcoughcoughthiefcoughcough.

Parents who give their child an unpaid-for toy and let him/her play with it/drool on it/chew on it/mess it up, to keep him/her occupied while riding in the cart, and then, at the checkout, leave it behind? You’ve got RBS*, too.

It is not because of any of the many political issues that I hate WalMart; it is because the store is always full of clientele that were obviously not raised by MY mother.

Anybody raised by my mother knows how to behave in public, by golly.

I wish all the well-behaved people would rise up in protest, and refuse to let businesses of any kind, who allow public misbehavior in their buildings without calling the miscreants on it, get any of their money. That would severely limit our buying for a while, but maybe after a while the managers would catch on and throw the bums OUT.

I’m always a little twitchy after a WalMart run. It’ll wear off in a while.

*Rude Bastard Syndrome


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