I don't much like the place. It's not 'cos they "exploit the downtrod" -- who doesn't, and us exploitees get heap big mucho bux we did not otherwise have.
Nor is it the way, at times, said used & abased go out of their way to be unhelpful, though I don't like it but would probably be tempted to do some myself in their shoes. Nope, it's that a lot of what the outfit sells is too dern fragile and the crowds just drive me whackier: it's like being caught inside the machinery of a bad Dinsneyworld* ride, hoping none of them malf like Yul Brinner in Westworld. (Yes, it's true: I think a gunfight at Housewares would be rude. Sorry. Next life, I plan on bein' bloodthirstier!)
Liking has very little to do with it when they have the one thing you need three of and cannot find anywhere else for less than $47.95 and too small at that price; I bound on arms and armor and bounded thru the doors, alert to the hazardous Senior Citizen smiling at us sad, sad dupes, out to buy what we needed at prices we could afford.
The rare & exotic freestanding clothes rack, $9.95 American. How like them, to reel me in with their flashy goods!
For a wonder, the checker was A) having a nice day and B) not on the phone to anyone.
Got my stuff and left, suffering temporary deafness at the door lest the Grey Guard stop me to pore, item by slowly-read-with-lips-moving item, over my receipt vs. the priceless gems of offshore manufacturing in my cart.
Escaped intact.
It's a wonder!
I even bought an I (heart) ME button. Oooo.
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* It's a fictional place I just made up. Any resemblance to any real place with, like, real lawyers is entirely within your own mind. Got it?
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