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Redjake · 12-15-2004, 08:42 AM

In honor of warrrreagl's post, I have a similar story to tell. This happened earlier this year in January. Still brings a cold shiver down my spine.

So me and Lasereth head out to the local Wal-Mart to do some last minute shopping. But wait, the previous sentence avoids the truth! Actually, we had taken back some video games that we didn't want that we had received for Christmas and we had store credit. So why not blow the store credit? After circling the parking lot which can only be described as Gargantuan, we find a parking space about 80 kilos from the store.

The male species of Homo-Erectus immediately drifts to the electronics section of Wal-Mart; this is the only reason one would come to Wal-Mart with the intent of buying something for oneself!

So we get back there, and look around, and nothing really stands out. Some DVDs maybe, but nothing worth spending money on. So we plan to head over to the automotive section and make fun of the rice-rocket shit they always carry and have in stock.

On the way, at the inside corner of the gigantic rectangle walkway that circumnagivates the entire store, sat The Couch.

Anyone who has attended or visited a university of higher learning knows that a Couch is the Shit to the fifth. Everyone needs a Couch. Better yet, this one was opened, looked to be returned. Super-glue was splattered along the top of the Couch, very reminiscent to Pollock's revered style of painting. A chunk of the right corner was missing because of what looked like a dog's bad day. Perfect! A leather couch, that is in sub-par condition...must be a dream come true!

Me and Lasereth sit down in it, and it's every bit as comfortable as the critics say. We didn't want to get up. It was even one of those fold-out couches - the kind that turn into a bed. But one thing that can always persuade Man to get his ass off the Couch: Money. How much did it cost?

So I stand up and look around for a price tag...and there, gleaming in the sunlight, or unnaturally bright halogens in the rafters of the store, stands the sign: "Special! Fold-out leather couch, 29.99!"

Lasereth and I immediately sit back down on the couch. No one will take this damn couch from under us. They will have to carry us out of the store on it. What should we do? We decided that if we went and asked the representative to take it to the front, someone would try to buy it out from under us. Besides, we were driving my Cavalier.. You can't fit a huge leather couch in a Cavalier. So we do what any warm-blooded American would do. Haul ass home and find a truck.

We ask around and it looks like the Grandpa's 1977 Cheyenne Super-10 Pickup truck is available. We blister down to my dad's shop, and get the Super-10. It has a full tank of gas, just enough to drive to Wal-Mart and back. We make our way down the expressway, weaving in and out of traffic. The boat was at full sail. "30 knotts starboard! Reel in the sail, upon the horizon sets a storm in our path!" I shout sailing terms that are complete bullshit and make no sense, for we were in the Boat! Wal-Mart ahoy, I shout! Drop ye anchor! My head sticks out of the side window of the truck, wind blowing through my hair as the sweet salty smell of....the nearby landfill fill my nostrils!

We arrive at Wal-Mart, dock the S.S. Super-10 at the loading zone, and run into the store. I ask around about the Couch and how I can get it to the truck. A manager in the front of the store said to go to the Couch and find a nearby sales clerk and for them to radio in for the guy that has the huge dolly that is made for Couches. I run to the back of the store, amidst the masses of Christmas shoppers, and make it to the Couch. 'Tis still there! W00t I said to myself. I find the nearest clerk and ask them to radio in for the dolly furniture guy. The soldier grabs the phone "This is Tango Five Seven we have a request for Anti-Armor support at coordinates four three niner!" The guy assured me that backup would arive shortly, and to sit on the Couch itself. He said they would have Five Five Sixers and Pineapples.

So after 15 minutes, a guy bursts through the double doors of the docking bay and pulls the gigantic Couch dolly over to me. "Are you the guy that wants the couch?" "Yeah, that's me." "We need to make haste, 'tis forsaken these lands." I nod with agreement. We load the Couch onto the dolly, and make our way to the front of the store. On the way sits a nice lady in an electric wheel chair in the middle of the aisle. This is one big fucking dolly with a Couch; we were stuck. "Can you please move ma'am?" asks the guy with the Dolly of Doom. The lady is asleep. In-fucking-credible. Her stewardess/daughter finally comes and wakes the lady up, and she fires on all four cylinders to another aisle to fall asleep. We navigate through The Shit, pushing people and items out of the way. Then it happened. A side of the Couch clipped the 100-foot high stack of gigantic remote control cars. "Mike! Take him out! Bring him down, Mike!" I shout as the immortal stack of remote control cars starts to sway back and forth. But it was too late. The stack crumbles, the cars making a racket that 747s envy. "I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me!" shouts Mike, the dolly operator. "A day may come when the courage of Men fail . . . when we forsake our friends, and break all bonds of fellowship, but it is not this day. On the Eve of Christmas Eve, we FIGHT!" And with a swift motion of his arms, he begins to stack the remote controlled cars back up to their original positions. I help, and within 10 minutes we have them restored to their original order.

We finally make it to the Cash Register of Doom. What can only be described as....well, the Saruman of cashiers is waiting for us. "This couch can't be 30 bucks." I stare in disbelief. "Couch is with a capital C, ma'am!" I shout as Mike the dolly operator grabs the barcode-gun and rings up the Couch. Total? 376.29.

"That can't be right!" I say. It says right here it's 30 bucks! It's an opened item, and the sign was on it! The sign describes it! It's 30 bucks! Saruman calls in for reinforcements. 3 different store managers come, eventually bringing the manager of the entire store over. He explains that in no way would Wal-Mart ever sell a leather Couch that folds out into a bed for 30 bucks. "But the sign says 29.99! And it describes it!" I say. The guy messes with the register, and fixes the price. "I'm sorry, the price came up wrong." I breathe a sigh of relief. The store manager says, "we can give you 10% off! It's only 330 bucks now!"

"I'm poor. I'm in college. I need this Couch." The manager says, "well, I'm sorry son, but we can't sell this Couch for 30 dollars." I say I can't afford it and walk out of the store, and inform Lasereth, who was waiting in the docking area with the truck now, that all is lost. We leave, sans-Couch, in disbelief that we didn't get the Couch. Who made the sign, then?

12-15-2004, 08:42 AM	#1 (permalink)
Redjake I'm a family man - I run a family business. Location: Wilson, NC	Wal-Mart In honor of warrrreagl's post, I have a similar story to tell. This happened earlier this year in January. Still brings a cold shiver down my spine. So me and Lasereth head out to the local Wal-Mart to do some last minute shopping. But wait, the previous sentence avoids the truth! Actually, we had taken back some video games that we didn't want that we had received for Christmas and we had store credit. So why not blow the store credit? After circling the parking lot which can only be described as Gargantuan, we find a parking space about 80 kilos from the store. The male species of Homo-Erectus immediately drifts to the electronics section of Wal-Mart; this is the only reason one would come to Wal-Mart with the intent of buying something for oneself! So we get back there, and look around, and nothing really stands out. Some DVDs maybe, but nothing worth spending money on. So we plan to head over to the automotive section and make fun of the rice-rocket shit they always carry and have in stock. On the way, at the inside corner of the gigantic rectangle walkway that circumnagivates the entire store, sat The Couch. Anyone who has attended or visited a university of higher learning knows that a Couch is the Shit to the fifth. Everyone needs a Couch. Better yet, this one was opened, looked to be returned. Super-glue was splattered along the top of the Couch, very reminiscent to Pollock's revered style of painting. A chunk of the right corner was missing because of what looked like a dog's bad day. Perfect! A leather couch, that is in sub-par condition...must be a dream come true! Me and Lasereth sit down in it, and it's every bit as comfortable as the critics say. We didn't want to get up. It was even one of those fold-out couches - the kind that turn into a bed. But one thing that can always persuade Man to get his ass off the Couch: Money. How much did it cost? So I stand up and look around for a price tag...and there, gleaming in the sunlight, or unnaturally bright halogens in the rafters of the store, stands the sign: "Special! Fold-out leather couch, 29.99!" Lasereth and I immediately sit back down on the couch. No one will take this damn couch from under us. They will have to carry us out of the store on it. What should we do? We decided that if we went and asked the representative to take it to the front, someone would try to buy it out from under us. Besides, we were driving my Cavalier.. You can't fit a huge leather couch in a Cavalier. So we do what any warm-blooded American would do. Haul ass home and find a truck. We ask around and it looks like the Grandpa's 1977 Cheyenne Super-10 Pickup truck is available. We blister down to my dad's shop, and get the Super-10. It has a full tank of gas, just enough to drive to Wal-Mart and back. We make our way down the expressway, weaving in and out of traffic. The boat was at full sail. "30 knotts starboard! Reel in the sail, upon the horizon sets a storm in our path!" I shout sailing terms that are complete bullshit and make no sense, for we were in the Boat! Wal-Mart ahoy, I shout! Drop ye anchor! My head sticks out of the side window of the truck, wind blowing through my hair as the sweet salty smell of....the nearby landfill fill my nostrils! We arrive at Wal-Mart, dock the S.S. Super-10 at the loading zone, and run into the store. I ask around about the Couch and how I can get it to the truck. A manager in the front of the store said to go to the Couch and find a nearby sales clerk and for them to radio in for the guy that has the huge dolly that is made for Couches. I run to the back of the store, amidst the masses of Christmas shoppers, and make it to the Couch. 'Tis still there! W00t I said to myself. I find the nearest clerk and ask them to radio in for the dolly furniture guy. The soldier grabs the phone "This is Tango Five Seven we have a request for Anti-Armor support at coordinates four three niner!" The guy assured me that backup would arive shortly, and to sit on the Couch itself. He said they would have Five Five Sixers and Pineapples. So after 15 minutes, a guy bursts through the double doors of the docking bay and pulls the gigantic Couch dolly over to me. "Are you the guy that wants the couch?" "Yeah, that's me." "We need to make haste, 'tis forsaken these lands." I nod with agreement. We load the Couch onto the dolly, and make our way to the front of the store. On the way sits a nice lady in an electric wheel chair in the middle of the aisle. This is one big fucking dolly with a Couch; we were stuck. "Can you please move ma'am?" asks the guy with the Dolly of Doom. The lady is asleep. In-fucking-credible. Her stewardess/daughter finally comes and wakes the lady up, and she fires on all four cylinders to another aisle to fall asleep. We navigate through The Shit, pushing people and items out of the way. Then it happened. A side of the Couch clipped the 100-foot high stack of gigantic remote control cars. "Mike! Take him out! Bring him down, Mike!" I shout as the immortal stack of remote control cars starts to sway back and forth. But it was too late. The stack crumbles, the cars making a racket that 747s envy. "I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me!" shouts Mike, the dolly operator. "A day may come when the courage of Men fail . . . when we forsake our friends, and break all bonds of fellowship, but it is not this day. On the Eve of Christmas Eve, we FIGHT!" And with a swift motion of his arms, he begins to stack the remote controlled cars back up to their original positions. I help, and within 10 minutes we have them restored to their original order. We finally make it to the Cash Register of Doom. What can only be described as....well, the Saruman of cashiers is waiting for us. "This couch can't be 30 bucks." I stare in disbelief. "Couch is with a capital C, ma'am!" I shout as Mike the dolly operator grabs the barcode-gun and rings up the Couch. Total? 376.29. "That can't be right!" I say. It says right here it's 30 bucks! It's an opened item, and the sign was on it! The sign describes it! It's 30 bucks! Saruman calls in for reinforcements. 3 different store managers come, eventually bringing the manager of the entire store over. He explains that in no way would Wal-Mart ever sell a leather Couch that folds out into a bed for 30 bucks. "But the sign says 29.99! And it describes it!" I say. The guy messes with the register, and fixes the price. "I'm sorry, the price came up wrong." I breathe a sigh of relief. The store manager says, "we can give you 10% off! It's only 330 bucks now!" "I'm poor. I'm in college. I need this Couch." The manager says, "well, I'm sorry son, but we can't sell this Couch for 30 dollars." I say I can't afford it and walk out of the store, and inform Lasereth, who was waiting in the docking area with the truck now, that all is lost. We leave, sans-Couch, in disbelief that we didn't get the Couch. Who made the sign, then? __________________ Off the record, on the q.t., and very hush-hush.