WalMart WasteLand

The weirdness continues. Starting with the word “weirdness”. Whatever happened to i-before-e-except-after-c? The opinions I have heard from colleagues put most of the blame on the congress and their partisan antipathy. One even commented that he wished things would heat up a bit so a couple of them would do each other in and promote some cooperation for survival.

As unpleasant and attractive as that was: violence is always nasty and abhorrent; but if politicians use it on each other isn’t that like microbes competing in a decomposition pit? Can we really get upset over that? Only, it seems, if our wallets and consumerism are being decreased.

Yesterday I ventured out to the local MalWart, only because my list was mixed between foodstuffs and other stuffs, which meant I would have to go two places otherwise. Besides it was 0630 and the other grocery stores were no open. In case I have not mentioned, one of the reasons that the businesses of Greater Metropolitan Arab are hurting so much is that they keep too restricted hours. Almost nothing opens before 0800 and almost nothing is open after 1700. So much for catering to the majority of folks who work in Nawth Alibam’s Shining City on the Hill and aren’t in town during open hours.

The MalWart is an exception. It isn’t open 24/7 but it is open more than most other places, including city hall and the senior center. Heck, the senior center has fewer operating hours than any of the banks. But the problem with going to the MalWart early is that is when they restock – ayeh, makes no sense, why don’t they stock at 0200 like everyone else in the ‘real world’? – and the restockers are belligerent. Evidently all of them are evening people who aren’t allowed to do their job at the decent hour of 0200 and hence have to take out their frustration on the early riser who come needing foodstuffs at 0630.

The worst are the bread restockers, who are not MalWart employees and hence feel no compunctions about maiming and killing customers. After all, they are the customers of their customer and hence scum and filth. Sadly, as is usual, I needed a loaf for FD SCP, who prefer Amerikan sliced white bread. It was almost my last turning point, being located near the front and the aisle was crammed with three competing restockers and wheeled trays of mediocre bread.

I entered bravely, meeting the walking dead gazes of the bread zombies with bared teeth and a firm grip on the buggy. My intent was tacit but not their submission, which was a slow awakening of their own risk, with gutteral noises of submission. The desired loaf was obtained and I wended my way to the solitary check out queue and thence to home to break my fast.

Sometimes I think we would be better off as an extinct species.

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