Taiwan and I spent seemingly the entire month of November in preparation for the month’s big holiday. Of course, I’m referring to Black Friday. A lot has happened in recent weeks, that have prevented me from updating you on all the goings-on of our favorite local retail giant. We’ve been through an election, Barackalypse, the end of days for Twinkies, the beginning of hunting season, and a looming strike. To say the least, shit has got real.
First, I’d be remiss if I didn’t update you on all the store’s trash. Yes, like the elusive deer that seem to endlessly reproduce and find their way into the path of my car, Franklin is teeming with sweatpant-clad honeys, all sporting adjectives across their rear, including, but not limited to words like: Donkalicious, Bootyful, Hot Stuff, and my personal favorite, Caboose on the Loose. It’s not just limited to sweatpants either. I’ve seen more unwanted cleavage than I can stand, and for God sakes ladies, cover that baby bump!
But you know it’s been a bad month, if unkempt titty meat is the least of your worries. Let’s start from the beginning…
The election. Or post-election for that matter. Never in my life have I seen so much ammo bought in a day’s time. People are packing some serious heat, folks; you better think twice before flipping that guy the bird when he dives in front of you to cut through the Arby’s parking lot to avoid the stoplight. Not only did we run out of all sorts of ammunition, we also ran out of non-perishable food items, malt liquor, Budweiser, milk, and bread. Come hell or high water, no matter if it’s a hurricane, snow storm, or world event, people run out and buy milk and bread at the first sight of trouble. I always pray for those that are lactose and gluten intolerant at those times. I have no idea how they can survive the 3 inches of snow without the sustenance of milk and bread!
Then, last week, an era ended. When it was announced there would be no more Twinkies, there was a mad dash of people all trying to get the last box. Our manager decided to make a game of it. We could hardly scrounge up enough boxes of Twinkies for ten customers. We announced that there were nine boxes of Twinkies remaining in the store, but they were hidden in unusual places. This marked the first time in history that a product was intentionally misplaced. Yes, we have some confounding employees, but I assure you it isn’t us when you see chicken breasts sitting next to the Stayfree maxi pads. I’ve noticed this occurs more frequently in the earlier part of the month. Draw your own conclusions on that.
So we hid the Twinkies (known as the only thing more precious than milk and bread in the event of a zombie apocalypse, due to its impressive ability to never go bad) all over the store. We had quite a cast of characters turn out, and as you can imagine, it was Mart-Cart chaos. The rules were simple, one box per customer; if you find the box, it’s yours to purchase.
Our manager dropped the green flag, and the Mart-Carts screamed out of the shopping cart bay at a blazing .005 MPH. One lady had her Mart-Cart up on two wheels, causing her to resemble one of those stunt drivers. Another participant, fresh off his high from witnessing Jeff Gordon go WWE on Clint Bowyer in Phoenix, did his best to wreck the field, right out of the gate. Unfortunately for him, gravity took hold, as he seemed to suddenly be glued at the hip with the lady he collided with.
Now, I took great pride in hiding these boxes. They were hidden so well, it took the shoppers 4 hours to find the first box. (Hint: They were all on the health food aisle, all together; it was literally the last place they’d ever look!) After a couple of hours, just about all the Mart-Carts had given out, causing many participants to go on foot. You’d think at this point that several would have quit right then and there, but not a man, woman, or manwoman gave up the good fight. Several even stopped on the cookie aisle to carbo-load. The first participant to reach the aisle quickly grabbed her box, and proceeded to lick all the others, in hopes that no one would want the remaining 8 boxes. Next, a man, losing his senses to the grueling four hour ordeal, stumbled onto the healthy aisle and grabbed the second box. He then tried to hide another box under his manboobs, but was quickly found out by my manager. He was ordered to return the non-tainted box to the shelf. One by one the boxes all disappeared, until but one box remained.
The manager grabbed the last box and decided to call the two remaining contestants to the front. Upon seeing the box, both contestants agreed it should be a fight to the death for the final box. In one corner, we had a woman with purple sweatpants with “Baby Phat” stretched thin across her rear. In the other corner, was a larger woman, in what appeared to be a paper thin night gown which gave away the fact that there was no restraint going on underneath. The manager said “Go,” and the two women clutched each other and circled for twenty minutes. Not a punch was thrown, but the match ended when “Baby Phat” became asphyxiated by one of Night Gown’s loose knockers. It’s how she would have wanted to go, as she was overheard muttering the phrase “give me twinkies, or give me death” before the match.
That was last week. Finally, as some of you may have noticed, Christmas has officially invaded Thanksgiving and declared war on the least commercialized holiday we have. It used to be that retailers respected the Thanksgiving holiday, giving employees the day off, and commencing with the Christmas season on Black Friday. Well no more. As of this year, these big sales have moved to Thursday night, officially ruining Thanksgiving dinner. You bastards! No one ruins Thanksgiving dinner, except for my heavily intoxicated Grandfather. But now they expect me to come into work on my Thanksgiving “holiday,” which is leading me, and half of our cashier workforce, Trina, into striking. I’m sure you read all about our strike on the CNNs and Fox News’s of the world, so good luck getting service at Walmart this year. We’re going on strike, that’s right. Just try to find someone to help you get that special item, or ring up your items. What’s that you say? That’s how it already is now? Well touche, guy reading this on your laptop right now while you take a break from your internet porn. To the refractory period!
As you can see, we’re dealing with alot of stuff. I’m sorry if I went off on a rant there, the holidays are tough, especially without new girl here, God rest her soul. Everytime I pass the Boone’s Farm, I just can’t help but feel her chunky arms again. Dammit, I forgot to tell you about Huntin’ season. Oh well, I’m sure they’ll be plenty of opportunities to talk about that in future stories. I may even go to the woods myself, now that I’m on strike and all. Well, Merry Thanksmas everyone!