Standing in long lines, waiting to get to the whole point of your making the trip however measured or far away it was in the first place. "Why?" You ask yourself as you wait. "Why did I come here?" You may question.
The answer: Lines, especially long lines provide a sense of order and anticipation.
The reality: Eavesdropping and sheer aggravation as you continue to ponder the slow pace of the cashier or customer service personnel whose enabling the current situation in addition to all the voices that seem to be circling in on you.
The scenario…
The couple in front of you has a towering carriage of stuff and is seemingly discussing the contents of said carriage. The young woman behind you has also seemed to jump on her phone after 5 or so minutes of waiting in silence and starts debriefing her weekend activities with a friend. And then there’s you, who just stands there leaning on your shopping carriage with a face that reads “what the f#@^” literally. Before you start the over emphasis of sighing and breathing extra hard, you take what seems like the stroll of a lifetime to pick up the trashiest tabloid you can find to kill time.
Of course, you walk all that way to find that your walk was in vain because you’ll never be able to really read up on how Angie caught Jen and Brad. By now what you thought was a cute couple stocking up on random household goods has taken to “discreetly” discussing how one spends their paycheck recklessly. Voices begin to escalate and everyone around you is drawn in on the hype, but you mute that out. There’s something even better going on behind you, apparently that weekend debrief with the girl friend has turned into a therapy session about how the phoned friend can’t seem to keep her man at home. From what you can hear he’s a roamer who seems to take up residence everywhere else, but where he gets his unemployment check. The friend is distraught and ready to give his ass the boot, but she loves him so she’s praying he’ll change—soon.
By now, you have realized the line has moved up just enough to feel like you’ll be getting out of the God forsaken place sooner than you anticipated to begin with. But, your goose bumps that magically appeared when you began the line have turned back in and your throat starts getting extra dry as you realize how the temperature has risen about 10 degrees. “Maybe it’s all these people combined with all their talking” you think to yourself as you stretch your neck and do a quick glance over at all the other people waiting in endless lines. And then you snap back to the reality of the intended purpose of your coming here in the first place and beckon unto yourself the age old question; “WHY?”
Huffy and puffy, sweating, and with a Diet Coke you have no intention of paying for, because after all you waited all that time just to get to the front of the line and get out. You press on and continue to listen to the madness behind you as the couple with the load of stuff starts picking and choosing what they’re taking and what they’re leaving behind for “next time.” Finally, one step away from the finish line and because of the sorting process going on in front of you, you can read the Angie, Jen and Brad debacle before you put it down and check out. Guess what? The entire story is written in a circular form and the juicy stuff is divided into so many sections on so many different pages that you’re too frustrated to read at this point.
You can finally put your things on the belt now, because the silly couple in front of you are done by now and paying…transaction complete, receipt handed over, they depart. The girl in the blue apron says a bitter hello, and announces the worst news you could possible hear at this point “…I need a pick up on isle 24.” Puzzled you ask if this is going to slow you down any more than you’ve already been slowed “no” she responds nonchalantly without a care in the world “this should be quick…”
My final purchase: 5 things that came to a whopping $21.63
Time spent: Approximately 30 minutes.
This was my trip to Wal-Mart’s “20 Item’s or Less” lane. There are over 20 lanes, and apparently only 9 can be open at any given point and time. Why? That’s the age old question…but no worries, I’ll be sending an “open letter” to the board of customer relations at Wal-Mart. The part that most surely pisses me off…people who refuse to keep it 20 ITEMS or LESS!
Moral: Wal-Mart is a capitalistic mega house that banks off of cheap labor, “low prices” that all end in “.97”, that stupid yellow smiley face and millions of people like me who just can’t seem to resist.
The answer: Lines, especially long lines provide a sense of order and anticipation.
The reality: Eavesdropping and sheer aggravation as you continue to ponder the slow pace of the cashier or customer service personnel whose enabling the current situation in addition to all the voices that seem to be circling in on you.
The scenario…
The couple in front of you has a towering carriage of stuff and is seemingly discussing the contents of said carriage. The young woman behind you has also seemed to jump on her phone after 5 or so minutes of waiting in silence and starts debriefing her weekend activities with a friend. And then there’s you, who just stands there leaning on your shopping carriage with a face that reads “what the f#@^” literally. Before you start the over emphasis of sighing and breathing extra hard, you take what seems like the stroll of a lifetime to pick up the trashiest tabloid you can find to kill time.
Of course, you walk all that way to find that your walk was in vain because you’ll never be able to really read up on how Angie caught Jen and Brad. By now what you thought was a cute couple stocking up on random household goods has taken to “discreetly” discussing how one spends their paycheck recklessly. Voices begin to escalate and everyone around you is drawn in on the hype, but you mute that out. There’s something even better going on behind you, apparently that weekend debrief with the girl friend has turned into a therapy session about how the phoned friend can’t seem to keep her man at home. From what you can hear he’s a roamer who seems to take up residence everywhere else, but where he gets his unemployment check. The friend is distraught and ready to give his ass the boot, but she loves him so she’s praying he’ll change—soon.
By now, you have realized the line has moved up just enough to feel like you’ll be getting out of the God forsaken place sooner than you anticipated to begin with. But, your goose bumps that magically appeared when you began the line have turned back in and your throat starts getting extra dry as you realize how the temperature has risen about 10 degrees. “Maybe it’s all these people combined with all their talking” you think to yourself as you stretch your neck and do a quick glance over at all the other people waiting in endless lines. And then you snap back to the reality of the intended purpose of your coming here in the first place and beckon unto yourself the age old question; “WHY?”
Huffy and puffy, sweating, and with a Diet Coke you have no intention of paying for, because after all you waited all that time just to get to the front of the line and get out. You press on and continue to listen to the madness behind you as the couple with the load of stuff starts picking and choosing what they’re taking and what they’re leaving behind for “next time.” Finally, one step away from the finish line and because of the sorting process going on in front of you, you can read the Angie, Jen and Brad debacle before you put it down and check out. Guess what? The entire story is written in a circular form and the juicy stuff is divided into so many sections on so many different pages that you’re too frustrated to read at this point.
You can finally put your things on the belt now, because the silly couple in front of you are done by now and paying…transaction complete, receipt handed over, they depart. The girl in the blue apron says a bitter hello, and announces the worst news you could possible hear at this point “…I need a pick up on isle 24.” Puzzled you ask if this is going to slow you down any more than you’ve already been slowed “no” she responds nonchalantly without a care in the world “this should be quick…”
My final purchase: 5 things that came to a whopping $21.63
Time spent: Approximately 30 minutes.
This was my trip to Wal-Mart’s “20 Item’s or Less” lane. There are over 20 lanes, and apparently only 9 can be open at any given point and time. Why? That’s the age old question…but no worries, I’ll be sending an “open letter” to the board of customer relations at Wal-Mart. The part that most surely pisses me off…people who refuse to keep it 20 ITEMS or LESS!
Moral: Wal-Mart is a capitalistic mega house that banks off of cheap labor, “low prices” that all end in “.97”, that stupid yellow smiley face and millions of people like me who just can’t seem to resist.
I learned this strategy in business class...
ReplyDeleteBy them limiting the checkout lines and making you wait the more likely you are to buy something else. Maybe you might think of something else you might need or want or maybe you might see something to your left or right like a bottle of water, a magazine or gum. Also the next time you come you know that there is going to be a long line so you might feel that you need to maximize your shopping by getting everything you need and more so that you don't have to come back any time soon. They only open up all the checkout lines on holidays or like such...
its all marketing.
Now keep writing...
Every time I shopped at Wal-Mart, my soul came into tangle with the guilt of buying products that are made from the backs of the downthrodden and necessity....lol
ReplyDeleteOk on a more serious note, I wish to live the rest of my life like Ralph Nader, a man who has never given into coporate temptations, and become an insightful shopper who is keenly aware of expliotation in all its forms. For the past three months, I have had a temporary reprieve from such tacit participation in exploitation because in Sweden there are no WAL-MART.
So for now,all I have left to do is work on untangling myself from the chains of fashion.