Dear Walmart,I hate you. I hate your service. I hate your employees and I hate all the baby-slapping shoppers and door greeters that stink like a pack of Pall Malls was set on fire. You also lie. Your new advertisements promise customers a pleasant sh
opping experience, highlighted by an increase in cashiers that will make the checkout lines less crowded. Well, that bullshit is the equivalence of me promising to start wearing boxers instead of T-Whites. It ain’t gonna happen. I like em high and tight. It’s a security thing.How the hell does a trillion dollar company, which is already skimping its employees and providers on the pay scale, not think to have enough cashiers to properly serve the cattle farm of customers that swarm the aisles? They probably don't even need to use heat during the Winter, because all those pot bellies and FUPA owners create enough warmth. I have never been thru a checkout line at Walmart that was not at least 8 people deep. It is bad enough when I am just trying to buy some toothpaste and dog food and the Amy Winehouse look-alike just cut me in line because she’s late to her next prostitution appointment. It is already bad enough that I have to suffer through the leaking armpit stench drifting from the heavy breathing lady behind me, which I’m also 75% sure is letting a few farts
slip thru her jiggly butt cheeks. But the absolute worse thing about this grocery hell hole is that it usually takes me 15 minutes to make it down aisle 11, because the non-handicapped obese man, abusing his electric shopping cart privileges, refuses to let me pass him.From this day forward, I am taking a stand. I will be sacrificing the 35 cents I could save on cereal in exchange for a peaceful shopping experience at the Kroger down the road. I know it won’t affect Sam Walton’s wallet a damn bit, but it will be one less child slap I see and a lot less FUPA-gazing, while waiting a half an hour in line. This is the end of our turmoiled relationship.
Sincerely,
Dr. H
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