I GOT ALL COLLOQUIAL ABOUT IT
Wearing My Best Worst Resting Pr!ck Face … I Dropped:
“Oh, No You Ditten.”
Delivered with just enough of a hint of Incredulous Sarcasm warmed over by Hurry It Up, Saturday Mornings Don’t Last Forever, Daisy …
To clue in the obvious that neither one of us wanted to be there … to the smartphone-brandishing, dismissive Little Miss As-If-Whatev’s hiding in plain sight behind the Big Blue Counter of Purgatory … about the two most important parts of Customer Service:
Nice-ish Paying Customer (All About Me) and At-Least-Feign-The-Part-Of-Giving-A-Hey-Now-About-Service (All About You).
DAISY ‘THE IMPALER’ WAS ALL LIKE …
Whatev’s, Dude … Freshly Microbladed Eyebrows & Butterflied Lashes Framed The Side Eye From Oblivion … Inconvenienced By My Presence …
Wal-Martian. Millennialed-Up. Giver-of-Less. Dialed Down To Meh-ism.
So, I Snapchatted my way to get her gnat-like attention – Social Media Intervention Is The Best Prevention To Perpetuating Ignorance – because her Instagram was busy, and Facebook was on another Spy Mission.
Anyway, I have one of those smarty-pants A.I. Apps that detects and records mobile phone numbers from anyone within a 10 yard radius. Point & Click. Its called, Really You Can Do That? You should get it. At the App Store.
REMEMBER WAY BACK TO LAST SATURDAY?
When I Blogged Out … It’s Not My Birthday.
Bought a shiny, stainless steel 12-Quart Stock Pot. Hmmm is right.
Thought I was going to change the culinary landscape of The New World Order with my Homemade Stock.
You know, from Farm Fresh to Table to Freezer Burn?
SAVING A FEW SHEKELS
Usually Equates To Negating Quality … And, Service Relegated To An Unknowable Commodity Of Vapor …
I proved correct the irrefutable, timeless theory of:
“One Gets Exactly What One Pays For, You Cheap Dumb Bastard.”
… Lesson Never Learned #389.
ROLLBACK ® EXPECTATIONS
I Searched … I Pondered … I Scratched Away The Doubt …
Convinced I was buying something at least worth the price.
No more. No less.
… Retail Cognitive Dissonance Be Damned.
BACK AT THE BIG BLUE COUNTER OF PURGATORY
Little Miss As-If-Whatev’s suggested by way of gravity defying brow arch – after deflecting, rejecting, dismissing … my concern – that I lumber my tail Halfway To Hades across the store back to where I found the stock pot.
What – preceded – The Ef … finished smartly with an exclamation mark.
“It Wasn’t A Question, Darling.”
And, cranked up My RPF to an adorable level of Passive Aggressive Snarl.
IT WENT SOMETHING LIKE THIS …
Little Miss As-If-Whatev’s: Did you buy it here?
All About Me: Nope. Got it on Amazon. About 4 years ago. Used a stolen credit card, too. Bezos said I could return it to any Walmart for a full cash refund.
Little Miss As-If-Whatev’s: (Crickets chirping).
All About Me: You know how I can prove it? Because it says so on the receipt you’re holding. Even has yesterday’s date and time stamped. Printed it on that Self-Check Out register 18 feet behind me. (I hiked a thumb over my shoulder). And, what’s with the camera and monitor action? I look like Hellboy after a weekend bender at Carl’s cottage, all bloated and red-faced. Oh, I also saved a nickel opting out of a bag. (Start the car … Cha-ching!)
Little Miss As-If-Whatev’s: Well, it doesn’t look like something We sell.
All About Me: I’m sorry. I didn’t know there was a We in Walmart. Is this somethng new? So, I guess you know all of the 4,259,605 products The Republic sells? Did you know Amazon sells more than 300 million products? There’s no hassle returning stuff. No lines. No red selfies. Just saying …
Little Miss As-If-Whatev’s: (Crickets chirping softer).
Pause. Little Miss As-If-Whatev’s eyerolled to her smartphone, searching online for the stockpot. I swear she was on Amazon.
All About Me: What’re doing? Tic. Toc.
Little Miss As-If-Whatev’s: I can’t find it online.
All About Me: Uhm, I ditten buy it online, Sunshine.
Little Miss As-If-Whatev’s: Can you go get another one?
All About Me: Ex-Squeeze-Me-Inside-Out. And, also, No. I’m not going anywhere to get something I don’t want.
Little Miss As-If-Whatev’s: (Lips cursed, which I realized later is actually a question mixed with disdain).
All About Me: Hey, I just want to be reunited with my money. Can you do that? Tap, tap, tap. Click. Swipe. Any order will do.
Little Miss As-If-Whatev’s: What’s the problem?
All About Me: (You are) … I boiled water in it. Now, its rusty like rust. I’m not a metallurgist, but I’m quite certain stainless steel doesn’t rust or stain. The clue is in its name.
Little Miss As-If-Whatev’s: Right, here it is.
All About Me: There you go. Don’t you just love it when truth, common sense and obvious all chill out together?
Little Miss As-If-Whatev’s: (Crickets went on break).
I’D RATHER NOT RANT
I Would’ve Preferred – This One Time – To Talk To A Machine … And Not A Crusty Drone …
Be considered Just A Number where at least I’d be counted.
Have the benefit of spending the rest of my day being invisible.
… Not Have To Validate Courtesy Or Feel So Damn Inclined To Raise Strays Without A Sense Of Social Decorum …
ROLLBACK THIS, MON AMI
When Bad Attitude In Customer Service Was Unimaginable …
When Folks Gave A Damn … Not A Dump.
When Hyenas didn’t talk … unless Doctor Doolittle was paying a House Call.
When Smiles … accompanied an introduction.
NOTHING AGAINST DEVOUT WALMARTIAN’S
If The People’s Republic Of Walmart Is Going To Be Taken Serious As A Sovereign Foreign State, How About Appointing A Likeable Brand Ambassador?
The Walton’s –
John-Boy Mary Ellen was my favorite – have obviously done very well for themselves since getting off their own Mountain in Virginia.
Its nightmarish Self Check Out Systems programmed to crash after scanning My Resting Pr!ck Face: What On My Retina Is Such A Cause For National Security Concern?
… Why Am I Being Recorded Without Compensation?
HOW MAY I HELP YOU?
Like The Bold Banana Yellow Print On Back Of The Blue Smock Vest Says …
“Linda, Linda, Listen … Good Service And Reasonable Quality Is Included In The Fair Price.”
Also, I kind of like being addressed as Sir.
… Because Hangry Doesn’t Last Forever, Bella.
LATER THAT SAME DAY …
Despite Bono’s Anthemic Shrilling Protests To The Contrary … I Found Exactly What I Was Looking For at the Big Red Sale …
Bagged a Commercial Grade 10-Quart Specimen. Heavy gauge. Real Stainless Steel. Marked down a crisp C-Note – $100. Saved a bundle.
Lovely millennial cashier smiled, “Thank you.” Like she meant it.
In a dandy Red Smock Vest.