That Bearded Mofo

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SEP 2012
Published Sat Sep 15, 2012 9:30pm PST

I hate Walmart. I don't mean because they're Galactus, devourer of planets, a huge corporation tossing piddling pennies to its workers and destroying mom and pop businesses leaving broken dreams and going out of business signs littered in their wake. I don't care about that.

I mean I hate having to go to and physically be inside of a Walmart store. It's always an unpleasant experience for me.


As in all of the ways it can depress my soul, it does.

The Walmart I go to is located in the 'hood, because all Walmarts are located in the 'hood. Now before you say, "My Walmart is not in the 'hood," let me say, "Yes it is!" Because Walmart is the field of dreams for 'hood folk: If you build it, they will come. The only difference between my Walmart 'hood folk and your Walmart 'hood folk might be the color of their necks: brown versus red.

I don't want to sound elitist. I also don't want to be fifty pounds overweight, but here we go. Walmart doesn't discriminate, and God I wish it did. Again, I don't mean the corporation that underpays and underpromotes women. I mean the physical dwelling that houses the cheap, cheap merchandise that brings in throngs of cheap, cheap customers.

And they are any and every kind of customer. Fat customers. Slow customers. Greasy customers. Tall customers. Cute customers. Ugggly customers. House shoe-wearing customers. Bootleg-selling customers. Mean customers. Old customers. Loud customers. Crazy customers. Way-too-many-kids customers. High customers. Smelly customers. Mistaking-me-for-an-employee customers. Staring customers. Glaring customers. Angry customers. Blocking-the-shelf customers. Blocking-the-aisle customers. Blocking-the-entrance customers. Blocking-the-exit customers. Still-blocking-the-shelf customers. And-stillll-blocking-the-shelf customers.

Walmart welcomes everyone, including the guy that looks like he stole your license plate tags. By the way, he stole your license plate tags. And I don't want to shop with that guy. I also don't want to shop with the girl broadcasting her cell phone conversation about "I don't give a damn" and "keep it to yourself, please".

Nobody wants these things. I know I'm not alone in that. But they're at the corner store, and I don't hate going to the corner store. They're at Target and I don't hate shopping at Target. They're certainly at the grocery store, but I don't feel the urge to throw a plastic bag over every head at Ralphs. So why Walmart? Because those obnoxious customers I rattled off on that list earlier comprise 10 percent of Ralphs or Schnucks or Macy's shoppers at any given moment. But they're 75 percent of any Walmart store.

Walmart: more WTF per volume. Always.

So that's the number one reason I hate Walmart: Too many 'hood people. Which adds to the number two reason I hate Walmart: The inhumanly long checkout lines. Walmart is notorious for having more people in line at the register than there are shopping in the store. And if you're in line at Christmas time, you might as well swap those gifts for Martin Luther King Day presents.

This past Friday, I got to Walmart two minutes after it opened. It was 9:02 and ten people were at the register. How? Where did these people come from? Were they locked in the store overnight? There is nothing that you need to get from Walmart that you can grab in two minutes. You can get your pack of Bubble Yum at the gas station on the way to work. Yes, it will cost you 8 cents more, but that 8 cents is the price you pay to stay away from Walmart.

Walmart at 9:01 am

You've been to Walmart. You've experienced the crowds and the lines, too. But you probably don't hate Walmart. You may even...
*holding in bile* going to Walmart. So I'll give you a final, personal reason why I hate going to Walmart.

Walmart is my Twilight Zone.

That is exactly what it sounds like. It seems, whenever I enter a Walmart, I'm not allowed to leave until my day has been negatively impacted. I can't go to Walmart without being directly involved in a strange, uncomfortable experience. An experience which, if I replaced myself with any of my friends in the situation, I would laugh my head off; but because it's me, it's not funny.

In Walmart's defense, I'm naturally drawn to uncomfortable situations. I'm like a Black version of George Costanza, Andy Millman, Michael Scott, and Larry David all rolled into one.

If you see these faces coming, run.
Laugh, but run.

I was once vaguely threatened by an ex-con just out of prison while outside of a Pep Boys where I was getting my busted wheel fixed which I bent when I hit a pothole on my way to a job interview. Also, my apartment was being robbed at the same time. And Walmart wasn't involved in any of that mess. At least, I don't think so. We still don't know who broke in my apartment.

But not in Walmart's defense, something happens every time I go to Walmart. Something ridiculous. Something troublesome. Something just plain weird. Something worthy of its own recurring article,

~That Bearded Mofo~

Comments (aka, the worst part of the Internet):
Make sure you're logged in. If you're not, I'd suggest copying all that text you just wrote before it goes bye-bye.

giuseppepatel says,
Oct 16, 2012 3:47:34 PM PST that is all.