so…

i went to fry’s discount electronics today. i am a 30 year old white boy who’s always been the one to install my friend’s stereos (whether home or car), set up home theaters, and now i work with computers. i am their prime demographic. i am their marketing departments wet dream. i thought the place was cool, but i do have a gripe or two (imagine that).

first off, they do have a good selection of stuff (plus odwalla fruit juice in the coffee bar–BIG bonus points); and they are well staffed. almost TOO well staffed. i’m used to shopping at dillard’s (because i am a TOTAL label whore). now, at dillard’s you have to find what you want, then FIND someone to check you out. sometimes you have to wander a while. a long while. like a moses-style wander. actually, ‘migrate’ in the same style as the tribes that used to follow the buffalo herds. But at fry’s, swing a dead cat, hit a sales associate. once I’d stiff-kitty-wallupped a rather thin teenager, i figured i was on my way to getting out of there. oh, how wrong i was.

i went up and asked for eight items. the guy said, “no problem,” and put my order into the computer, and handed me ONE item. tease. then, he said, “be right back”, and returned with two more items. were now three for eight; not enough to get you in the play-offs, ya know? then, he handed me a book. he SAID was a sales receipt, and when i checked out, they would give me the rest of my stuff. so, at three for eight, i headed to the check out…trying not to feel like less of a man as a result…

at checkout, you wait in line to wait in line. it was when i saw this i realized where the discount comes
from; this place MUST be government run!!! once i’d filtered through line one to get to line two, i was checked out by a trainee. she disappeared for a few minutes to get my other five items so i wouldn’t feel so inadequate as a human being. then, she gave me my total. i gave her a company check, hand-signed by the owner, and one of my business cards to help seal the deal. i paid with a check. i broke commandment number 11. now i’m going to hell (yeah, like i wasn’t already jet-skiing there as was)

she copied down everything off of my drivers license, and sketched my picture. she copied down everything off of my business card, and made me stamp my thumbprint on it. i then had to give her my shoe size, blood type, mother’s maiden name, preferred brand of condoms, three personal references, a small urine sample, and the names of my last six employers. then i had to fill out a couple of more forms (i think i’m in the communist party now…or the gay and lesbian alliance…or some kind of porn-star actor’s guild) then, i got my receipt, and headed for the door. free at last, free at last…thank GOD all mighty i’m fr…

“sir, can I see your receipt?” was my greeting at the exit door. so close, yet so far away. they look at
the receipt, look at the cart. receipt. cart. receipt….you get the idea. “sir, what’s THAT?!?!?” i get as they pointed at a small cloth bag in the bottom of the cart. “those are my oakleys,” i said, picking up my sunglasses, “i came in with these”. “oh, sorry…” was what i got in response, and out i went. good store. good prices. pack a lunch, stay for the day. don’t bring a canned soda, though…they DO have odwalla…:)

(2022 note – exactly nineteen years after this bit was posted (in 2021) this store shuttered operations for good)