I'll admit, I don't shop at K-Mart much - the ones around me are pretty much giant Dollar Stores, and I can usually get higher-quality items for around the same price somewhere else. But there's this one store to the north that's closing down, with the usual signs everywhere:
And here I was with this shopping list that included "Scratching post." (We have cats - I don't know if you're aware...) And I figured "what the hell, right?" So I wandered in, and, sure enough, I found a budget-priced post for a cat to try and destroy. Seemed like a win to me, so I took it to the checkout line.
Everythingup to 50% Off!!!
Now, I'm not sure that you've lived in the Southwest in the summer, but it's not known for being cold in these parts. And I'm not sure if you've considered the problem, but when a store is closing, the owner isn't overly worried about repeat customers, so the air conditioning may not be running at peak efficiency, if you know what I mean.
So, by the time I get to the front of the line, I'm hot and cranky. But the girl behind the register has been there for hours, probably, and she's doing her best. So I figure why act like an ass, right? So I engage Smalltalk Mode.
"So, do they at least move you to a different store when this one closes?"
"If you've been here for six months, yeah."
That answer didn't seem to make her happy. "How long have you been here?"
Oh, damn. I literally had nothing to respond with at that point. So she rang me through and started into her rehearsed spiel. "All sales are final. Make sure you have the receipt available." And then she made the mistake of taking a breath, and... well, I have this genetic failing. I'm a smart-ass.
"What good does the receipt do me if all sales are final?"
That seemed to take her by surprise - as far as I could tell, nobody was supposed to ask questions at this point. "Oh... um... well, they're checking receipts at the door... and... um..."
That was apparently the point where the douchebag behind me with the sunglasses on his carefully-moussed hair lost patience. I guess he was late for his prostate exam or something. "Look, can we move it along here?!? Some of us have places to be!!"
You know, I'm not the most sympathetic of bastards, but I've never seen where it was a great idea to be a prick to the underpaid people who were ringing up my purchases. And this self-important fucknozzle just grated against my last overheated nerve.
So I turned to look him right in the eye, and I said, loudly and clearly, "You know, asshole, this store is closing. And these people might not have a job in a few weeks. So maybe they have problems of their own. In fact, maybe the last thing they need is another problem. Like you being an ass. So maybe you should just back the fuck off, OK?"
And I stared at him for just long enough for him to flinch and turn away.
It was right about then that I felt a tap on my arm, and the guy from Security asked me to please come with him.
You know, maybe I shouldn't have been as loud as I was. Maybe I shouldn't have cursed. And I've been thrown out of better places. But everybody waited as the cashier hit the last few buttons and handed me my receipt. And you know, the guy throwing me out never thanked me as he escorted me to the door before.
I don't make it a habit of getting thrown out of stores. But sometimes, that's what needs to happen.