Walmart Review

Damn you Walmart and your low prices and products people can afford. If not for that, there would never be any reason to step foot in your establishment. My personally gathered data covers many states and many different stores, so I’ll say it is probably happening everywhere. With the risk of being called a Target snob, I’d have to say that next to the Nascar track and a “My Name is Earl” reunion show, there is no larger congregation or concentration of trailer trash anywhere on earth.

This store has technically been “off my list” for quite some time, but I seem to end up there at least once a month whether I want to or not. Their problems extend far beyond the shoppers though. The workers can be equally vile. (Now before you get angry with me and start a nasty comment about how I am a poor person bigot or that your brother is a great guy and has been working for Walmart for years, give me a few more paragraphs, I’m going to talk about fat people too. Note: I was raised with absolutely no cash, in a small rural town, double fisting mac and cheese and Raman Noodles as almost sole sources of nourishment for most of my life. I was the very definition of poor white trash, mullet clad and all. I’m also not exactly what you would call slim and trim either so I know of what I speak on all of these fronts. Hence, I will speak candidly in this review.)

Let me give you a couple of examples of why I have such distain for Walmart, mind you, these are but a few of my many encounters. Around Christmas time I told my wife I would return something to Walmart. So I head to the store in at about 10am on a Thursday hoping there wouldn’t be many people there as I thought most people worked during the day. It was an anomaly that I had some time off myself. Though, I should have known, there are plenty of people unencumbered by the work process who do nothing but spend a major portion of their day at Walmart. To my dismay, fifteen such people were ahead of me in the return line. I glance down the line and see an inordinate amount of sleevelessness, undersized skin-tight clothing, flip-flops, and panty lines. Not a soul was under 350lbs so I got the pleasure of unearthing another naked, meaty fold with every dip and bend of the people in front of me. My reverie of disgust and loathing was interrupted when I heard a hacking, phlegmy cough that one could only associate with Pneumonia if not full blown Tuberculosis. Surprise, surprise, the “carrier” was the sole worker at the return counter. I watched her help four or so people, wiping her nose on her sleeve and covering everything within a 20 foot radius with a cloud of disease and mucus. I had been in line 20 min. at this point but I had to bail. I walked out enraged that they hadn’t sent her home.

A few weeks later I was back in action getting groceries. Again, at my wife’s request because of the low prices, I headed into no-man’s-land. Everything went well to start, I mean I still had the normal bumps and bruises from my fellow dazed shoppers clipping my heals with their cart and occasionally getting knocked into a freezer by a someone with four foot wide hips trying to pass me in a five foot wide isle. That was, until I got to the check stand. The woman there had a black t-shirt on that was beyond disgusting. I know I am prone to hyperbole, but please know, that in this case, it is impossible to overstate how filthy this woman was. She actually had food on her face and in her unkempt fright-wig….and it wasn’t only one meal old. The shirt was a conglomeration of food and muck unlike anything I’ve ever seen and must have taken several Tide-free months to get to such a state. Forensics would have a hell of a job defining that cornucopia of filth and fluids. I let her check me out, all the while trying to get up the gumption to just walk away. I totally wimped out and took my groceries but I washed every item in that bag when I got home vigorously with soap, veggies just hit the trash.

As a final example, I’ll describe my most recent visit, and the one that spurred this review. I didn’t have a chance to do the grocery shopping for Mother’s Day until late Sat. night. Since my options were limited, and breakfast in bed needed to happen in a few short hours, I headed to Walmart. Now if you think that the day crowd is bad, just stroll in sometime after 10pm and your eyes will be opened. The place was packed with last minute shoppers and there were guys wearing wife-beaters as far as the eye could see. I’ll skip the commentary on the number of draw string pants I saw or home-made tank tops that really just have the entire sides cut out of 80’s hair-band concert t-shirts, and get to my point. I purchased a small package of blueberries for a granola, yogurt parfait on the morning‘s menu. As I got to the check stand, I was delighted that nobody was ahead of me and the cashier was normal looking. To my horror, when I started to put items on the conveyor belt, the blueberry package slipped and fell into the cart exploding all over. Clean up, check stand one please. I apologized profusely and asked for a broom. The lady was very nice and turned off her check stand light so that no one would follow me stepping on the berries before she got them cleaned up. I headed back to get some more blueberries, because I was only 20 feet away, when I saw two-ton Tilly and her herd of 3 heading down that isle. They were just heading for the door and hadn’t bought anything. Must have been late night window shopping. Anyhow, they walked right through the berries crushing them into a huge mess. All three of these monsters never felt a thing or ever looked down. I even yelled at them to watch out, yet they didn’t stir. They must have been distracted by the candy display, but they made an absolute mess and had no idea. If you are so fat that you can’t feel yourself crushing produce, or have such an umbrella of fat at your waistline that you can’t see the floor for 20 feet around you, enough with the Big-Macs.

The cashier just shook her head and started around the counter with the broom when something even more amazing happened. A girl that was probably 10 years old, and again, 250lbs scurried up and started scooping these off the floor and shoveling them into her mouth. Now this kid was obviously not starving, or I would have thought this very sad. Instead, I yelled “Come on, that’s ridiculous!” and apologized again to the clerk. She said “wow, didn’t see that coming”. The kid looked up when I yelled, grabbed one for the road, and waddled off. Yup, only at Walmart.

I hate this place, so if you can afford it, shop somewhere else. If not, follow a couple of rules and you should be ok. Never go there after dark, never go to the pharmacy (the new $4 prescriptions have brought the circus freaks out of the woodwork), and if you drop something on the floor…just run away.

As for advise for the mountain trash that may be reading this, I have some plenty for you.
1) In order to see if a shirt fits, bend your waste slightly forward (if possible) and if more than 6” of ass crack becomes exposed, buy something bigger. Nobody wants to see your “whale tail”.
2) If you are wearing sweatpants and when standing upright the rear seam is more that 6” deep into your ass crack, buy something bigger.
3) Sleeve-less and side-less are not the same thing and you probably shouldn’t be wearing either.
4) I know you like shorty-shorts but if you are hemming those jeans yourself, the inside pockets shouldn't extend down past the hem line.
5) Spandex is a privilege, not a right.
6) Ladies, if you weigh over 300lbs, a bra is a must, even if you consider yourself an A-cup.
7) Just take a quick glance in the mirror before heading out of the house. Just because you are poor, doesn’t mean you have to be filthy. Just because you are obese, doesn’t mean you can’t find clothes that fit. Just because you’ve heard the stereotypes doesn‘t mean you have to perpetuate them all.

I give Walmart 1-star because they are dirt cheap. I just wish they would get rid of some of the dirt.
Here is a website dedicated to The People of Walmart.


Unknown said...

you must live in pennsylvania!

Mayor Zac Pritcher said...

Very good review. Fantastically enjoyable.

I had a cashier once, whose hands were cracked and bandaged, that bled all over my girlfriend's receipt and kept talking to me about Michael Crichton.

MeatWad said...

That is disgusting; unfortunately, blood is probably the least infectious of fluids transferred to your receipt that day.

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