When searching for a job at the age of 17, I had no idea what I wanted to do. I just wanted some money in my pocket while I finished high school. I applied at a couple of places like Spencers and K-Mart. I never heard back from any of them. I mentioned to my friend, the drunken rantor, that I was thinking about applying at Wally World. His advice was to go anywhere other then that place, because it was a white trash haven. It was probably the best advice anyone has ever given me. I ignored it. However, it was only a matter of a couple of years before the drunken rantor found himself within the clutches of the evil corporate smiley face as well.
I applied to Wally World. I thought that it would be fun to work with all of the cool merchandise that is sold there. I mean, I had seen the movie Big, I knew how it all worked. I was called in for an interview, hired, and made a cashier. I was upset that I was going to be a cashier because that is obviously a woman's job, and guys are not cashiers. As it turned out, once I started the job, I realized I was wrong. That job is actually for chimps, as are most of the jobs at Wally World. The chimps cashier, the gorillas pull pallets and push carts, and the downs syndrome kids manage the place. That is basically how it all works, with a few gimps here and there.
If only somebody had warned me that the kids that rode the short bus to school grew up and were released free in to our society without supervision. I soon realized that this place was a stage for the Jerry Springer show, except nobody was producing or hosting this mecca of stupidity.
Being a cashier, I believed that the problem with the store were the customers. I was half right. With the volume of customers that go through Wally World, it is like an overpopulated carnival. The other half of the problem I had overlooked, were the associates. They were the deadbeat carnies running this sick extravaganza of brain cell waste. The only thing that compared to this place were my family reunions.
With all of the gimpy associates and customers running around with mullets, and few enough teeth to count on one hand, I decided to document my experiences.