Target is Evil

It is 8 pm. I have a Halloween party to go to in like an hour. I do not have a Halloween costume. I go to Target. I do not get a cart when I enter. Because carts = money spent in Target. I am there to get a Halloween costume and that is all. Pay no attention to the other aisles, there is nothing to see there, keep moving.

Why do the damn Halloween costumes have to be all the way in the BACK of the store? Meaning I have to pass by SO MANY AISLES OF GOOD STUFF on my way to the costumes. But I am strong and avoid veering off track on my way in. I grab a costume (this year I went dressed as “The Last Costume at Target” (Well, it was really one of two last costumes, but the other costume was one of the guys from Dukes of Hazzard, which was basically just a flannel and a cowboy hat. While this looked comfortable, I doubted anyone would understand that I was supposed to be a character from a TV show from 30 years ago.))

I head back up to the register. I will be strong, I will not veer off track, I am just here to buy this-oooo, candy corns. Candy corns are tasty and festive. I’ll buy just a bag of these and be on my way to the register where I will check out and just buy these two things and-oooo shelves. The kind that appear to magically hang on the wall all by themselves, I love those shelve. I need shelves, I’ve been saying how I need shelves, so this isn’t an impulse buy, I really need them, and so I should buy them. I should buy like five of them. I will stack them on top of each other and then put the costume on top of that and then the candy corns on top of that and I will go to the register and be done with this store and be-ooooo the frame aisle...

I get up to the register and I am balancing what has now become a teetering pyramid of merchandise. I am walking slowly and concentrating hard on not losing control of the pyramid, because it feels like it can go at any second. I see a Register Lady waving me down, letting me know that her register is open. She looks at me carefully as I balance three aisles of stuff and she says, “Uh, are we out of carts?”
“No, your store is evil.”
“Okay.”
“I can’t come in here and spend less than $200. I didn’t get a cart so I wouldn’t buy anything.”
“That plan didn’t go very well.”
“It did not.”
After she finishes scanning my tower of purchases she smiles and says triumphantly, “Only $142, that’s under $200.”
“That’s not bad for a Halloween costume.”
“No, imagine how much you would have spent if you had a cart. Speaking of which, let me go get you a cart so you can get all of this stuff to your car.”
“No, I got it, I should carry it, so I fully appreciate what I just did.”
Then my phone rings, it’s my friend, I answer, “I hate Target.”
“Me too! I just left the one by my house. $113.”
“I spent $142.”
“It’s a bad bad place.”
“But you know I saw a big sign on the wall that says they give $2 million to charity every week, so we really were just donating to a good cause.”
“Exactly. And with my Target card I get to pick a school that I want money to be donated to and I picked our old high school.”
“It’s all about the kids.”
“They are who I shop for.”
“We are amazing people.”
“Honestly, we should win awards or something.”