I went to the Wally-World to pick up the Halloween candy the night before the curtain went up. I usually have to work on Halloween, so this was a pretty big deal for me. Not that I got anything fancy - I went to Wally-World, after all.
It was the sort of shopping trip that makes you wonder what's wrong with people. Apart from the fact that it looked as if the candy had been manhandled, I found two open bags. And I don't mean "open" as in "cheap bag popped along a seam," but open as in "someone tore a corner off and helped themselves." I didn't want to be That Guy, so I brought them to the customer service desk.
For all the difficulty Wally-World had in keeping the place organized and policed, they were certainly well-stocked. You could stand between the aisles and inhale, and just breathe in sweet. It was like standing next to a commercial beehive. (I miss my Dad's beehives.) So, of course, while I'm trying to choose between a five-pound bag of Twizzlers and a five-pound bag of peanut butter cups and stumbling to the inevitable conclusion "Why not both?", I heard a blood-curdling scream from up the aisle.
Little kid, launching a tantrum.
The couple pushing the stroller could have stepped out of a J. Crew catalog. Their other, slightly younger daughter was sitting in the second seat of the stroller, just as well-behaved and charming as a little girl from a Victorian children's novel. The older daughter was up front, being murdered. The vicious, cruel, heartless act of not being given candy was apparently leading to her complete dissolution.
As the little family strolled toward the exit, all eyes on them, I swear to blue, the mother turned to the father and said, "I wonder what she wants?"
...
She's heartbroken over the Royals' 4-3 loss in the World Series, lady. She was dissatisfied with the last episode of Doctor Who. She's having trouble reconciling classical physics with quantum theory. What do you think she wants? I get that they can be a little hard to understand when their wailing makes it difficult for them to enunciate consonants, but this isn't a job for Kreskin. I'm gonna make the wild guess that she wants a five pound bag of peanut butter cups of her very own.
They are insanely understaffed at that place. I weep for Black Friday. It's going to look like a tornado rolled through.
It was the sort of shopping trip that makes you wonder what's wrong with people. Apart from the fact that it looked as if the candy had been manhandled, I found two open bags. And I don't mean "open" as in "cheap bag popped along a seam," but open as in "someone tore a corner off and helped themselves." I didn't want to be That Guy, so I brought them to the customer service desk.
For all the difficulty Wally-World had in keeping the place organized and policed, they were certainly well-stocked. You could stand between the aisles and inhale, and just breathe in sweet. It was like standing next to a commercial beehive. (I miss my Dad's beehives.) So, of course, while I'm trying to choose between a five-pound bag of Twizzlers and a five-pound bag of peanut butter cups and stumbling to the inevitable conclusion "Why not both?", I heard a blood-curdling scream from up the aisle.
Little kid, launching a tantrum.
The couple pushing the stroller could have stepped out of a J. Crew catalog. Their other, slightly younger daughter was sitting in the second seat of the stroller, just as well-behaved and charming as a little girl from a Victorian children's novel. The older daughter was up front, being murdered. The vicious, cruel, heartless act of not being given candy was apparently leading to her complete dissolution.
As the little family strolled toward the exit, all eyes on them, I swear to blue, the mother turned to the father and said, "I wonder what she wants?"
...
She's heartbroken over the Royals' 4-3 loss in the World Series, lady. She was dissatisfied with the last episode of Doctor Who. She's having trouble reconciling classical physics with quantum theory. What do you think she wants? I get that they can be a little hard to understand when their wailing makes it difficult for them to enunciate consonants, but this isn't a job for Kreskin. I'm gonna make the wild guess that she wants a five pound bag of peanut butter cups of her very own.
They are insanely understaffed at that place. I weep for Black Friday. It's going to look like a tornado rolled through.
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