It started like any other Wednesday, but by the end of the day I felt like I had bathed in a sea of mediocrity. I decided that I was running dangerously low on the staples of life ' pretzels, hot dogs and juice. So after class, I ventured off on an epic, consumerist journey into the bowels of Wal-Mart. After I bought my groceries, I understood why I hated Wal-Mart, but that I was doomed to shop there.
It was pulling into Wal-Mart's parking lot when the dangers of this journey started to take hold. My shock was instantaneous. I think somewhere the designer of that parking lot is laughing because it was clearly designed to cause as many near accidents as possible. Not only was I on edge because of the possibility of my tiny car being hit by someone not paying attention in a pickup, but it seems that 3:30 p.m. on a Wednesday is now prime grocery-shopping time.
The parking lot appeared like a glimmering chaos of soon-to-be-rusting cars and abandoned carts splayed at random. It really gives me a lot of faith to live in a time when people cannot walk 50 feet or less to put a shopping cart away. I do not know if it is laziness or narcissism that compels people to leave a shopping cart in the middle of a parking lot, instead of obeying the social contract and returning it.
After I parked my car on the edges of this gathering of stupidity, I rallied myself to finally go inside. Immediately, I was met by the Wal-Mart greeter. I've read Dante's Inferno, and anachronisms aside, I really think that Dante missed something by not putting the Wal-Mart greeter in one of the lower circles of Hell.
The first thing I always notice when I enter a Wal-Mart is that it is devoid of any style. Everything is white and unadorned. It tries to be as inoffensive as possible, but it comes off as dull and bland. I've been in hospitals with more style.
Nobody acknowledges one another inside the store. Not even the employees talk to customers. The shoppers' faces are like zombies ' fresh from the grave, still pink with life but with dead, cold, lifeless eyes.
I can never find what I want in Wal-Mart. Like its style, they clearly cater their products to the lowest common denominator. If I am shopping for a specific product, I always have to compromise. Low prices really are important, but they are at the sake of taste and quality.
Unfortunately, the products are not only second-rate, they also are unhealthy. I noticed that the shelf space devoted to ranch dressing is, literally, three-feet wide and from floor to ceiling. It gives me a clue as to why our nation is so fat. People will make their own choices, but this is advertising to clog shoppers' arteries. You would think that Wal-Mart would want them alive, but I guess not.
I have noted my dislike for children in this column in the past, but Wal-Mart gives me one more argument. If parents cannot take care of their kids, then they shouldn't be bringing them into public. When I go to Wal-Mart, it is like being on fire. I want it over as quickly as possible, but these screaming ankle-biters just get in my way.
I have a theory that most of the people that shop there don't like it either but swallow their pride and shop there anyway. By this point, you might be asking yourself why I even choose to shop at Wal-Mart. I am sad to say that the answer is that it is inexpensive and has most of what I want.
So I loaded my goods onto the conveyor and checked out. And everyone knows you are a poor college student when you walk out of Wal-Mart with a bag of generic cereal and case of ramen that you bought for less than the cost of a gallon of gas.
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Chris Bruce
Wal-Mart parking lot, decor comparable to DanteG
