But none of those is me. I hate shopping. REALLY fucking hate it. So much so that I will use any excuse at all to put it off until it�s absolutely necessary to do so. I didn�t used to be this way, for the most part. But thanks to the people in charge at these stores I have to go to, I now loathe the shopping experience almost as much as I loathe my ex-wife.
I was reminded of this yet again a couple of days ago. I went to one of our fine local entertainment stores; Media Play, to see about perhaps purchasing some CDs or maybe some DVDs. Nothing odd about that. I may hate a lot of things, as evidenced by this site, but I do enjoy fine entertainment from time to time, so the whole idea seemed like a good one to me.
Until I entered the store. Then all the reasons why I hate shopping came rushing back to me. Immediately upon entering the store, five idiots in red shirts pounced me on, all falling over each other trying to be the first to offer me assistance in finding what I�m looking for. I was certain that any moment punches were gonna start flying so that one of these nimrods could be the one to go to the totally incompetent store manager to receive his pat on the head for doing a good job harassing the customer.
So the act of actually shopping for my entertainment products was delayed another ten minutes while I explained to each one in turn that I did not, in fact, require their assistance at this time. But perhaps after I had actually made it THROUGH the fucking doorway, I might at some point have a question or two for them. If they would be so kind as to BACK THE FUCK OFF, and simply be available if the need to question them about an item arose, I would appreciate it greatly. Thank you very much.
They complied with this request, initially, although I could tell they were upset about not getting the pat on the head, but I suspect they�ll survive. And if they don�t, well tough. It�s an unfriendly world, and not everyone can be a winner, right?
Of course, once I got into the store and started browsing, there were more of these pinheads. Every new department I went to there was another one waiting there, like he had been planning this all day. �Hi there! Is there something I can help you find while I�m standing here grinning like an idiot at you, who so obviously is wishing I would just spontaneously combust on the spot?� No thanks, jerkoff. I�m looking for a Kiss CD. I think I�ll just look right here, in the CDs, under �K�. I know I don�t have all the complicated training you do, but it seems to me the most likely spot I�ll find it. Now why don�t you just run along and shoot yourself in the sack, assuring us that you will not reproduce. Thanks a bunch.
I then headed over to the musical instrument department of the store. It looked safe. I didn�t see any red shirts floating around there. I picked up a bass guitar and went over and plugged it into an amplifier, just to check it out. I do this regularly, even though there is nothing wrong with my bass. You just never know when you might find something good. I didn�t on this day, but I always have to try.
Of course, it was too good to be true, and after about a minute of playing another red shirted idiot wandered over to me. Or it may have been one of the same ones, I couldn�t tell. At this point they were all starting to look the same to me. Anyway, I�m sitting there plucking out some Black Sabbath on this bass, and this guy comes over and actually asks me, (I�m not making this up,) �So, you play bass?� And the expression on his face is the same one a five-year-old has when he�s patiently trying to tell you how the world really works. I just stared at him until he went away, then sighed and put the guitar back on the rack. I couldn�t take any more of this.
I did make one last stop to check out the video games. I like to play those sometimes as well. So I�m standing there in the X-BOX aisle, looking at X-BOX games, and one more idiot comes up to me and asks if he can help me find something. Yes, my sanity thank you very much. He asks me what system I have, and I stare at him blankly. We�re in the fucking X-BOX aisle for chrissakes! What fucking system do you think I have? Where do they FIND all these idiots?
I never did find a CD or DVD I wanted to purchase, but I did get a magazine to read. A copy of Rolling Stone, which normally is one of the shittiest magazines in print, but this month had an interview with George Lucas. So I take my magazine and head up to the checkout counter. This is, of course, another experience where it should be legal to maim someone.
One of the MOST annoying aspects of shopping to me is the �add-on sale�, or the �impulse sale�. Little things they keep at or near the register to try and push on you when you�re already done shopping and all you want to do is pay and get the fuck out. Especially after being stalked around the store by a legion of red-shirted goons killing each other to try and '�help� you. The last thing I need at this point is some bimbo trying to be cute asking me if I need batteries with my purchase. It�s a goddamn MAGAZINE! It doesn�t NEED batteries you simpleton. Just give me my fucking change, okay?
And then some places, like Media Play, have promotions they try to push on you every time you visit there. Some kind of special club you can join for the low, low price of every cent you�ll ever earn plus your soul. They give you some ridiculous card, which in the case of Media Play is called the �Replay Card�. The oh so enticing benefits include being added to about 35 million junk mail lists, which is something EVERYONE loves to do, as well as paying them more right now in exchange for some savings down the road sometime. They are always a little vague about exactly WHEN I will see those savings. Sounds like a great deal, right?
So here I am, trying to buy one measly fucking magazine, and this bimbo at the register wants to know if I want to spend an extra thirty fucking dollars so I can carry a card in my wallet. I already have useless junk in my wallet, so I don�t NEED their card. Plus, why would I want to pay almost $35 for a magazine with a cover price of only $3.95? Somebody obviously remembered to take their stupid pills that morning, but it wasn�t me.
So I told the bimbo that yes, I have already heard about their little club, and no, I wasn�t interested in joining. I don�t like the secret handshake. But she doesn�t want to take no for an answer, and keeps going on about it until I just want to slice her open and strangle her with her own small intestine.
I couldn�t wait to get the Hell out of there. No one should have to go through that much shit just to buy a fucking magazine. I�ve already written a letter of complaint to Media Play corporate, although I know how much good that�s gonna do. I�m sure I�ll have to be satisfied with just being able to leave the store with most of what sanity I have left intact, and then coming home to read my fucking magazine.
But then after that, we went over to Toys R Us�