Okay, in following up to my previous post about the “oil change” and my healthy disapproval of the “wal-martian way,” I must confess – though I hate to admit it -- that I too am an ex-martian.
Yes, it is true. I belonged to the Kalispell sect of Wal-Martians for almost four years. It was a depressing, disheartening, often times a rather scary period in my life and it is painful to talk about it even now. I was one of the night-stockers at the Kalispell “Wally-Pod.”
By day I would appear to be a normal every-day kind of guy, but every night around 10:30 pm I would drive into the Wally-Pod and take on my alternate form as a sleep-depraved, underpaid, miserable wal-martian with bloodshot eyes and a listless stare.
Yuck… the thought of it still makes me cringe to this day. I remember how the “pod managers” used to lock us in over night so that we couldn’t escape, and often times they would try and get us to do the “Martian Cheer” an unfathomably frightening experience that I absolutely refused to take part in and one which still haunts me everytime I walk through the sliding front doors of “the pod.”
I used to not even be able to shop there, it was just to grim of a reminder of the endless nights I spent as a “martian-stocker.” Fortunately time heals all wounds and I am finally able to shop there again with only the occasional cringe when I see a palate of un-stocked merchandise being pulled out onto the floor by one of the new-breed of wal-martians.
So if there are any other wal-martians (current or ex) who read this blog, all I can say is, I feel your pain! If you are and ex-martian like me… congratulations on having the fortitude and perseverance to escape, and if you are still stuck in the “Wally Pod” well… my prayers are with you… and let this post be an inspiration to you that freedom is possible… your D-Day is not far off.
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2 comments:
Dude, sweet post. You had me laughing here. Benny looked up at me and I think he said in doggy language..."get a life you human geek." My career started out with washing dishes at Little Italy in the mtn mall. At the end of the night after mopping up italian food shrapnel, I had to round up all of the garbage and put it in an old shopping cart and wheel it right by the crowds of cool kids lined up for the movies and out to the dumpsters. These were the cool kids that were going to the theaters instead of working and looking like a homeless bum that smelled like garlic. Do you know how loud a loaded shopping cart is on those tile floors? Ya, LOUD.
Stupid Wal-Martians!
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