It's time we had a talk you and I, just one on one. In a relationship such as ours it's easy to let things slide, I can ignore a lot of the things that you do that are annoying, biting my tongue and gritting my teeth until our brief meeting is over. I tell myself that we only meet a few times a month, often less, and I cut you slack. But that time is over.
You see, I have three children, all of whom are at the very beginning of their lives as parasitic consumers and I have this sinking feeling I may have to see a whole bunch more of you before this is over. So I'm not willing to just grit my teeth and bear it any longer. The gloves are comin' off.
You know that thing you do where you don't put prices on staple kids items, like socks and underwear, and you neglect to post signs also? Yeah, that' really irritating. Have you ever tried to drag three children through a toy store? Because if you have you might be aware that having to walk out of the dark dingy back corner of the kids wear section through the leap pad section and the Thomas the Train displays to find the nearest price checker is something akin to whichever level of Dante's inferno that had all of those souls endlessly circling and swirling, in short, hell. And if you wanted to, gasp, do a price comparison, you might find yourself making that trip several times while a tired baby screeches and squirms, and fights alternately for freedom or snuggles and you can't think because baby screaming causes all of your brain to short circuit and stop being able to function, and the older children keep wandering off to look at things, and touch things , and carry things to you to look at in hopes that you will buy them and then you have to put it all back and remember where the socks are again. Just put the prices on the bags of socks, can't you.
What really irritates me is that I suspect you do this on purpose. I think you reason that since these are staple items that I have to buy anyway that I will just wearily give into to your evil scheme and throw them in my cart without knowing how ridiculously expensive the Dora underwear is, and then swallow the giant mark-up at the register because I am just too battle weary from dragging my children through a toy store to go back and change my purchases. Which is dirty, underhanded, and just plain mean. I bet you're also hoping to turn those tired wanderings in search of a price into an impulse buy extravaganza. But you won't succeed with me, no sir, I will just go and buy my kids socks and under wear at another store, because those stores at least have the courtesy to label their merchandise properly. Even though I have to go farther to get to those stores and add another store to our list of places, in the end it takes me less time because I don't have to keep dragging my kids between the socks display and the@#$##$$@@@ price checker.
Today I stopped trying to put things back, or waiting for my kids to put things back. I just left them all in untidy piles on the floor. I figure it serves you right for being so damned inconvenient to have to clean up after the mess my children made while I was having to wander through your store repeatedly in search of something that I should not have to waste my time finding. And for the record, my kids are not little hellions that grab everything and throw it on the floor. They're just normal kids who are suckers for the eye level displays you have set up in the obstacle course that you call a store.
I just thought I'd tell you why you won't be seeing me again any time soon. I think we need a break from each other you and I. I'll be returning when someone buys my children a gift card, only if you won't exchange it for cash for me, another underhanded evil scheme. But otherwise, I will be taking my business elsewhere thank-you very much, and I will not be trying to buy basics from you ever again.
It's not me, it's you,
ps. Christmas is two whole months away. Enough with the nerve rattling, eardrum jangling happy Santa tunes already. I already hate Christmas and we're less than a week out from Halloween.