I Hate Wal*Mart

Every time I go in there, I swear it will be my last, but I’m hoping that yesterday really was the last. I spent no less than 20 minutes looking for a lunch box for Tyler and finally resorted to asking an associate for help (granted, I should have done that from the start). The pittance of a “selection” (there was none) was limited to one kid’s style (a Spanish language design) and those insulated lunch sack type things. Neither of which were of any interest to Tyler. To salvage the trip, I hunted down a replacement spatula and melon baller and proceeded to one of the “fast” self-check lanes. The people in front of us seeing that we only had 2 items offered to let us go first (as soon as the family in front of them finished buying 7 bags of de-icing salt and other sundries with coupons requiring store assistance). After waiting for what seemed like 10 minutes in the line for the salt people to get done, I quickly scanned the kitchen tools only to find out that the credit card reader was out of service and I would have to ask for “assistance” to check out. There was no “call for help” button on the self-check terminal and the scene in the store at that moment was nothing short of chaotic. I said fuck that, canceled the purchase, and left the items somewhere (I can’t really recall) as I quickly exited that bastion of bad chi with Tyler in tow. Cheap bastards, I won’t be darkening your door anytime soon if I can help it.

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