Always poor service. Always.

I HATE WAL-MART WITH EVERY FIBER IN MY BODY.

Abhor It.

Despise it.

Detest it.

Loathe it.

There isn't enough colorful diction to properly underscore just how much I CRINGE whenever I'm within a one-mild radius of that hell hole. However, I do have a story to share that can, perhaps, give justice to my feelings of abomination.

I get an hour break for lunch each day. Rather than ride around wasting gas or sitting in some food establishment for forty minutes twiddling my thumbs after I finish my meal, I try to maximize my time and take care of a few errands while I have some free time. Well today, I decided to go to the retail abyss to get a few things prior to departing for the chuck city this afternoon.

Surprisingly, my visit began quite well. As I continued trekking through the store, I managed to get everything I needed with no hiccups. I'd gotten everything I'd planned to get and was headed for the checkout lane. I thought to myself, "a quick, painless visit to Wal-Mart? This is unseemly!"

Unseemly was right.

As I walked to the checkout counter, it dawned on me that I'd forgotten my earrings at home during my usual morning shuffle. I couldn't imagine going the whole weekend bare-eared, so I opted to purchase a cheap pair from the jewelry department (to hold me over for the weekend). As I drew closer to the jewelry department, I soon realized that there was no associate behind the counter to assist me with my purchase.

I waited a moment. I thought, "Perhaps the cashier took a bathroom break."

More time elapsed.

I thought, "She's probably a woman and had to fall into the usual queue that forms outside of the ladies' restroom." Ok, so perhaps it was a bit sexist to think the cashier had to be a woman. Whatever. The part about the long line outside of the ladies' restroom is true.

"Irregardless," about 10 minutes had elapsed and there was still NO SIGN of help. Slightly frustrated, I walked through the aisles in search of another associate to assist me in the matter. As I proceeded down the aisle where all the seasonal knick-knacks are found, I noticed there was a "Precious" reincarnate--complete with the trademark khakis and navy shirt--schlepping through the aisle.

Sidenote: "Precious" has become an American idiom meaning grotesquely large black woman, alluding to the Academy-Award winning film, Precious: Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire.

"Ma'am, do you know anyone who works in the jewelry department," I asked her.

She looked at me with a slight smirk and said, "Nope...sure don't. Fuck I look like?"

Just kidding.

Her actual response was, "Nope...........................but I'll buzz someone for you."

"Thank you, ma'am," I responded.

She continued to waddle toward the front of the store. So much for buzzing someone. The whore left. Back to square one.

I finally gave up. Alas, no earrings for me. Wal-Mart hoodwinked me, yet again. I say time and time again that I am going to stop going to that establishment and yet, like a vortex, it keeps sucking me in. So it goes.

At any rate, I grabbed my items and headed to the "20 items or less" line, only to be pissed off again because I hate the fact that Wal-Mart blatantly violates the rules of grammar by offering the disclaimer that the express lines are for customers with "20 items or less."

FOR THE RECORD, WAL-MART, IT'S 20 ITEMS OR FEWER. GET IT RIGHT!!

Anyhow, after I checked out--sans earrings--I proceeded to the door, flustered as all get out. And to top it off, the greeter had the nerve to exclaim, "Thank you for coming to Wal-Mart -- come back and see us!"

Eff you Wal-Mart. Eff you.

- JC