I hate you. It's over.
Dear Mayhem Momma,
What? Don't I at least deserve an explanation?
Hope we can work this out.
Reasons I hate you include but are not limited to:
1.) Having to fish out my id card just to walk through your doors. Come ON!! Like you are SOOOO exclusive and uppity. In case you hadn't noticed...You display your products on PALLETS. So get over yourself with your whole "members only" thing.
2.) It is guaranteed that I will lose my husband....who takes the kids in the cart with him.....every single time we go shopping at your warehouse. Now if I was in any other store, and my husband wandered off with the kids....I would be IN HEAVEN.
However, your items are GINORMOUS and therefore holding several items in your arms until you find your husband is awkward, uncomfortable, and makes me curse your marketing department for making me believe it's a great deal to buy a 50-gallon can of crushed tomatoes.
3.) I cannot stand your sorry excuse for milk. It tastes like crap.
4.) Your checkout lines make me want to commit myself to an insane asylum for suicidal tendencies.
IS THIS SERIOUSLY THE BEST CHECKOUT LINE YOU COULD COME UP WITH?!?
You have a flippin' enormous warehouse. You have hundreds of customers pushing these wide-load carts overflowing with gigantic products. AND THIS IS THE BEST YOU COULD DO??
Ten checkout lanes, yet only 5 are actually open. Lines winding so far back, they are into the product aisles. And just in case I haven't slit my wrists yet, how about you make me wait 20 minutes to even see a register in the distance!!
5.) I know this isn't very green of me to say, but why can't you just throw my raspberries or other delicate purchases into a stupid bag? I hate the fact that you just set them back in my cart...where they then get transferred into my trunk...where they are just sitting there all vulnerable and exposed and scared next to the big, bad, 3,000 gallon laundry detergent I just bought.
6.) And the reason I hate you most? My bill. You make me all delirious waiting in that disastrous checkout line. And then the next thing I know, I am signing a bill for $400. And poor Momma is all "Wha-what? But I hardly bought anything! My husband disappeared with the cart and now my arms are all broken from carrying 3 of your freakishly enormous items and.... How did 3 items total $400?"
And your response is to basically shove my confused self into the "restaurant" area and be all "Oh, sorry that we just drained your bank account. But ooh look! A hot dog for only $1.50!"
Like I said, I hate you.
Whatevs. 100 bucks says you come crawling back when you have your next dinner party.
Choke on that.