Everyone is familiar with the standard complaints against Walmart: the friendly, neighborhood conglomerate that threatens to run every small, privately owned business within miles around out of town. Their ridiculously low prices, achieved through sheer volume, are nearly impossible for a “mom and pop” organization to compete with. Many say that America was built on the backs of entrepreneurs, who struggled to carve a niche out of the economic structure of their community. Giant retailers such as Walmart threaten to eradicate the small business, and this could prove a very real problem to American society as we have known it. However, there is a more insidious disease at work, one which may threaten our very existence.
Let me tell you the story of our Christmas tree.
Buster and I recently celebrated our first Christmas in our new apartment. While we love our little space, it is a LITTLE space. I have an eight-foot artificial tree, and although it might have fit in our living room, it would most likely have resembled the Griswold family Christmas tree. Therefore, in the interest of maintaining some open living space, we decided to obtain a small, live tree for a change. This required a tree stand, which I did not have, as artificial trees do not generally need water. Therefore, we ventured out to purchase one.
I will admit that I prefer to do my shopping at Target. Their stores are overall clean and bright, their employees reasonably friendly, and their products of a quality nature. I will also confess that when looking to save money on something mundane, I will go to Walmart. As a general rule, I will avoid Walmart altogether on the weekends, as their stores are overcrowded and minimally staffed. The benefit of saving $2 on shampoo is negated by the forty minute wait in a line that’s composed of a mullet-sporting redneck, a screaming infant, and an elderly lady wanting a price check on a package of gum. I have also suffered post-traumatic stress disorder from visiting a Walmart on the wrong side of town. This particular store more closely resembled a refugee camp that was inhabited by an assorted group of underdressed, mumbling, confused patrons who employed a half-hearted shuffle through the aisles of paper products and household accessories. I hastily retreated in fear that I had stumbled onto the zombie apocalypse.
On the Saturday in question, I was feeling light and festive, imbibed with the Christmas spirit and in search of the perfect tree to decorate. Target had only one type of tree stand, and it was too large and overpriced for our needs. Walmart loomed directly across the street and beckoned us with its insidiously low prices. Fortunately, it was a quick trip, not even requiring that we venture into the store, as the tree stands were in the garden center outside. Our intention was only to pick up a stand and then search for our tree at one of the many roadside purveyors around town. However, upon entering the garden center, we were greeted with an assortment of freshly delivered, fragrant pine trees. Out of curiosity, we stopped to have a look and were immediately taken with a perfectly sized, perfectly shaped, forty dollar tree. Seriously. A nearly 7ft fresh tree that was only $40. How could we pass it up? With absolutely no assistance from the employees of the store, because surely they do not work there in order to help customers, we got our tree into my Element and brought it home. Buster was forced to break out the hacksaw, as providing a fresh cut was another service Walmart did not provide. But hey, it was 40 bucks, what can you say?
The tree brightened our living room for the full month of the holiday season. I attributed this to my supreme dedication in watering it daily. This is not normal for me, as I am well known for killing every plant in my vicinity due to the fact that the plants don’t actively remind me to care for them. The dogs at least never cease to request their meals. Surprisingly though, it continued to remain fresh and vibrant even after I began to neglect it and it had stopped drinking water altogether. When the time finally came to take down our seasonal décor, we debated the proper disposal method for our beloved tree. Our apartment complex is filled with negligent morons, as I have mentioned previously, and therefore the compact area was stacked with enough trash to fill a New Jersey barge, while the inside of the actual compactor, where we are supposed to place our trash, stood empty. We debated waiting for instructions from the apartment office; however, that office is staffed with a group of fifteen year old girls who could not manage their way out of a shopping mall. Therefore, we did the only logical thing; we dumped our tree over the fence.
To be fair to us, our complex backs up to a “wooded preserve,” so tossing it over the fence into the woods didn’t seem like a big deal. Granted, we did this under the cover of darkness while wearing black clothing and swept up the tell-tale track of pine needles which led from our door down the sidewalk. But we didn’t feel like we were doing anything wrong.
Occasionally, I walk the dogs along the path near the woods. With the cold and the early dark, I hadn’t been out there recently, so when I walked that route last Saturday, I was surprised at what I found. There was my Christmas tree, sitting just as we’d left it. It looks just as green and fresh and vibrant as it did while it sat in our living room. It is not brown. It has not been made a home for bugs or squirrels or spiders. Possibly it is radioactive. I am thinking that Walmart genetically engineers some sort of hybrid mutant tree thing which never dies. I will continue to monitor its progress, but I fear I may have done serious harm to the ecosystem by allowing it to make contact with the soil.
At any rate, if mutant Christmas trees don’t scare you, go right now to http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/ Right now. Stop what you’re doing and click through some of the “Feature Creatures.” You will be mesmerized by the documentation of the devolution of the human race. It is happening right now in Walmarts across the country: in your cities, in your towns, in your neighborhoods.
Be afraid. Be very afraid. I know I am.
No comments:
Post a Comment