Things That Annoy Me About My Target
Dear Target (pronounced Tar-Zhay, by the way):
Even though you are my favorite place to shop, there are some things that really annoy me about my local store. To be fair, some of my gripes have more to do with the patrons than the store itself, but because my shopping experience is upset in some way, I’m connecting them all to you, the store.
- Why are the kid carts (the ones with the big, red two-seater behind the actual cart) always left outside? As a woman who is forced to shop with two small kids way more often than she would like, I would really appreciate my kid carts not soaked with rain water and custom fitted with some asshole’s cigarette butt. How much more time could it possibly take for the cart round-up crew to bring these inside? And because they are all lined up on the right side of the store, I bet the crew was just too damned lazy to bring these in one-by-one. Please address this.
- Why does the internal Pizza Hut only sell personal sized pizzas? As much as I would enjoy consuming a salty, greasy pizza all by myself, the idea of paying for 4 personal pizzas when a family size would be cheaper just assaults all of my sensibilities. Come on! I need a grown woman, full-sized pizza. I don’t even mind having to wait for it. I’ll just get my shopping done while it bakes.
- Why do I always get stuck behind the jerk who complains about the quality of the bananas when there is a fully functioning (and fabulous) grocery store on the same lot? Can you please tell him just to take his crazy behind down the way and get the bananas he so desperately seeks? Before he leaves, though, recommend that he stop by your pharmacy to get that refill he so obviously has forgotten.
- Why do you have an area for my husband to sample video games instead of helping me shop? On the RARE occasions when we actually “get” to shop together, it would be nice if you didn’t lure him away with your giant ELECTRONICS sign and the games you know we can’t afford. When I happen upon little Jacob or Jaden all upset because some hulky man is hogging the latest PS3 sample, I blame you, Target, not my obviously childish and mean husband.
- And where is Jacob and Jaden’s mother anyway? I know that you have lots of things that make a modern mother squeal with delight, but do you really have to make it so inviting that she totally forgets that those neon green towels she’s caressing in the bath aisle are to dry off those little monsters when they finally take that much-needed shower?
- Why are your greeting cards so funny? I only have one relative with a birthday this month, but those x-rated grandmas bursting out of that cake, that squirrel telling me that he won’t allow me to touch his nuts, and that man wearing the daisy dukes on his hairy behind begged me successfully to make unnecessary purchases. Somehow, now, I have to figure out how to give one of those cards to my mother because my card buying budget is gone!
- Why did you start stocking my favorite hair care products? This may sound like something I shouldn’t complain about, right? After all, you are giving me even more of a much-needed opportunity for the one-stop shop. But you only carry the smaller sizes, and I have a big head, and two little girls with big heads, too, and I am probably spending twice as much getting the products from Target than I would if I would travel seven miles east to the only beauty supply on the South Side that carries them. And you know me, too, Target. I know you do. You know I’m not going to take those girls east just to have them embarrass me by turning their noses up at the ladies in the back trying on tacky wigs or pointing at that middle-aged woman buying butt pads for an already amply junky trunk as they question, “Why you need that for?
I love you, Target, I really do, but if you want this relationship to work, you must address at least one of my concerns. If you want the truth, I can get past all the other complaints if you just send out one of those tattooed teenaged cashiers to wipe down a kid cart and bring it inside before I get there. My kids won’t run around, I won’t chase them threatening one form of discipline or another, and you won’t have to refold shirts when we leave. It’s a win-win-win! Think about it.
See you tomorrow, my friend.