|11-20-2012, 09:20 PM||Topic Starter|
Stuff & Things
Join Date: Jan 2006
Location: The Yukon
Casino cash: $127024
Gonzo vs. Big Retail
Whoever thought this process was a good idea needs to be hung by their eyelids...
A few days ago I needed to purchase some applewood discs for my electric Bradley smoker so I could smoke a turkey for an office thanksgiving party. The following is the chain of events that took place at this large retail sporting goods store: I'll not mention the name of said store but for the ease of storytelling, we'll call it Cadella's.
I enter Cadella's at approximately 09:45 CST for one item, a box of Bradley Applewood Smoking Biscuits. Upon entry, two elderly gentlemen (approximately 65 years old) look at me with a ravenous, predatory smile. Both of them were wearing upland hunting gear, (blaze-orange hats, bird vests, plaid shirts and burr-proof pants) which always baffles me.
My feeble attempts to ignore them and not make eye contact proved worthless. The first geriatric greets me with a, "Good morning sir, do you have a Cadella's club card?" I reply with a polite, (yet blunt) "No, I don't."
The second 'greeter' then asks me if I would like to sign up and save 25% on today's purchases.
To this I give another stern, (yet polite) "No thanks."
The first gomer then says, "Really? It only takes a few minutes."
I reply with, "I don't have time nor am I interested., thank you."
It was like I kicked them both in the testicles. They couldn't understand why I wouldn't want to sign up for their awesome ****ing 'Club Card'. I felt as though I was going to get tackled and forced into a dark room for "Reprogramming" i.e. A Clockwork Orange. It took an amazing spin-move that would remind some of a young Earl Campbell to get by these two elderly statesmen. I'll never be able to prove it, but I could've sworn I saw one of them talk into the cuff of his plaid shirt and say something like, "The rooster is in the henhouse, all units converge." Meh, could've been my imagination.
I began progressing to the rear of the store when I decided to take a slight detour and check out the used gun area. (I am a collector of Browning Automatic Rifles and older Ithaca/SKB shotguns.) Behold, there was a 12 guage Ducks Unlimited model Ithaca XL900 for sale. (Of which I have two but I need to prep for the upcoming apocalypse, right?) Pricetag?
GET THE **** OUTTA HERE...
I move on, not even tempted to try haggling with these douchers.
Eureka! Found what I needed. One box of applewood left. Time for a strategic exit.
Now then, what year is this? 2012...right?
This is the age of instant gratification and self check stations. Amirite?
NOOOOO, **** no.
I figure Cadella's must recruit their cashiers from the local VFW post or the Omaha Lutheran retirement home. These guys are older than the two "Greeters" by a good 10 years.
A side note...
Listen, I respect my elders. Especially our greatest generation. But these guys don't need to be operating today's sophisticated registers. They really don't.
Anyway, back to business.
I assess my situation. Three open registers, (out of at least 20 that could be running) and all three of them have a line of at least two people waiting and one processing. The lag was excruciatingly slow. I picked my line and waited... And waited...
Someone slid in line behind me and I asked them if they packed a lunch.
FINALLY! My turn. I place my one item on the table and Edward, (my spry, 80 year old cashier) asked me if I found everything ok.
He then picked up the box and went to scan the bar code. Before doing so he flipped the box over and read the label. "Applewood Smoking Biscuits, what are these fur?" (He said 'for' like 'Fur')
"My electric smoker." I replied. I figure about now my face must be almost purple with anger.
"Huh?" Edward tilted his head so I can speak right into his hearing aid.
"MY ELECTRIC MEAT SMOKER!" I was almost yelling.
"Oh, those werk purty good?" He asked.
The heat coming off my head could be used to defrost a walk-in freezer by now. I could see a seizure in my future.
"It does alright." I muttered. At this point, a seizure would be welcomed.
Finally, ol' Eddy scans the box. He turns to me and asks, "What's your phone number?"
WHAT. THE. ****.
Screw it, I'm not going to fight anymore. I give him my fax.
He enters it, (after I repeat the last four digits, twice).
Then it happened.
"Are you a Club Card member?"
I could see a slight grin and I knew instantly. Those two bastards from up front had me ID'd and told old Eddy to give it the old college try, one more time.
I could smell burnt matches, 'must be having a stroke.' I thought.
"N-N-No, I'm not." I sobbed.
"Well, if ya got a few minutes, you could save 25% on this here." He said.
Well friends, let me say. If I had been armed I might have been on the 10:00 pm news that night.
I don't condone acts of random violence like that, but I understand it.
After nearly blacking out, I exited the facility at 10:30 a.m.
10 minutes of legitimate shopping, 35 minutes of waiting, being hassled, harassed and just verbally beaten. You just cannot possibly run in and out of this place to get what you need. You have to go through hell for a 20 dollar box of applewood.
But hey, I saved 25% which is cool.