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There are no happy Wal-Mart clones where I live

The Wal-Mart People Greeter hates me.

I know, because when I went into Wal-Mart this morning to search for cheap-o wedding invitations (they turned out to be too cheap-o, unfortunately), and I smiled at her and said “Good morning,” she frowned and turned away as though I smelled of manure. But I didn’t, honest!

Then, after I checked out (of course I bought something else; you think I can just go into a store, look for something, decide not to buy it, and then walk out again without buying anything else? Madness!), I carried my bags past the same lady. Wondering if she would want to see my receipt, I smiled at her. She frowned again and looked away! What, was she jealous of my awesome Land’s End coat? Did she resent the way I’d pulled my hair back into a ponytail because it was a little dirty today? Does she hate my glasses? Or is she perhaps bitterly suspicious of anyone who attempts friendliness, because her husband of 50 years (she was damn old after all) ran off and left her with half the bridge club?

It’s too bad Wal-Mart isn’t anything like it is in the commercials. I think they must grow those people who love working at Wal-Mart in jars somewhere in a secret lab, and then raise them inside a Wal-Mart so that they are perfectly acclimated, and then give them the honor of actually working in one, and that’s why they’re so ecstatic in the commercials. But this process must be really expensive, which is why they never send any of the happy clones to the Wal-Marts where I shop. They have to reserve them for the ritzy, upscale places, like Columbia County, Georgia–where a Super Wal-Mart is constructed, I kid you not, entirely of beautiful brown brick. Never in my life had I thought that a Wal-Mart could look that good.

Maybe when I move to Georgia and shop at the Columbia County Super Wal-Mart, the People Greeter will like me.