Listen up Trader Joe’s. You’re on my list. And don’t bother giving me those puppy dog eyes either; the ones that say “who me? I’m just trying to wuv you! Won’t you give me a scratch behind my ears and sample some free Belgian waffles with soy ice cream on top – plus a Nyquil sized cup of our special Winter Blend coffee?” Yes, I don’t mind if I do sample your wares. But, can’t you just once give me something to bitch about?
How much are they paying you there to act so sincere? Why do you have to make my f-ing day by asking if you can help me find anything and MEANING IT? I like to complain, don’t you get it, people? When I walk through the aisles, why the smiles? Are you trying to make my shopping experience enjoyable? Why must everything be so tasty and inexpensive that I want to punch your purchasing department in the face for being so great? Is that what they want? A black eye?You know you’re simply asking for one by selling your produce so cheap. Tasty green grapes for 99 cents a pound? Are you smoking crack?
You’re really asking for a beating when you chase me out to my car so that I don’t have to return the cart back to the front of the store myself. How dare you say, “can I put those bags in the trunk for you?”
Don’t you know that getting irritated is like my own form of Yoga? You’re taking that away from me, TJ’s. Do you hate me? Is that why you’re constantly putting deliciousness on sale like that huge box of gourmet chocolates you have the nerve to sell for six dollars? I could kill you right now for that sort of kindness.
Why can’t you have one cashier with a bad attitude? I get plenty of it at Ralphs. I can count on Ralphs for a sneer when I don’t answer the paper or plastic question fast enough. You? Forget it. You’re all smiles. Real smiles. When I try to put my chicken burritos, a steal at three dollars for two with only 8 grams of fat, on your counter for you to ring up, you have the nerve to say, “Don’t worry about it. I got it.” WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU? And, for the love of God, why do you have to actually acknowledge me like you know I live in the neighborhood and ask if I’ve had a good weekend? You couldn’t possibly care but yet…it seems like you do!!!! My head is going to explode.
And why do you get along with each other so well? It’s almost like you want to be there. Like work is fun and you have a cool boss. And why do you have to have a hot looking 19-year-old cashier with the long hair and the sexy name who looks like he just flew in from Hawaii where he was in some sort of naked surf boarding competition? You know, the one who flirts with me like I’m not 40? Next thing you know that asshole’s going to card me buying my husband’s sake and then I’m really going to feel good. God, I could scream right now I’m so angry!
I hate you guys. And trust me, if it takes me the rest of my life, I will find something to complain about with you. Oh wait, your parking lot is way too crowded all the time. See, right there. It’s a side effect of you being TOO GREAT! Now get your act together, take a clue from Ralphs, Safeway or any department store make-up counter and make an attempt to ruin my day like a normal store.
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