Remembering the Mmm-K Mart

The people at the customer service counter always thought they were better then us: we the cashiers, the floor workers, the cart boys. They stood there in pairs, telling us what to do, who blindly bounded to their every whim.

“Put this back,” a pair of socks.

“Find one that isn’t broken,” a glass pitcher.

“Two of these for a rain check,” a paper clipping of a folding chair from two weeks back.

We did this, all the while knowing to some degree that they really didn’t have the power to tell us what to do. They were paid the same as the rest of us red vest dunces; yet they had a counter.

The counter was a feudal stone wall. It stood between us, declaring who was important and who was part of the lowly masses. Those who stood within its bounds felt as if they had risen in ranks, clearly more educated, were better then the average Mmm-K Mart biped. They were the face of the company to the masses, the messenger, the harbinger, the person who signed the paperwork for the returns. We all knew they were glorified cashiers, and so some degree to did they. But the power to grant returns, it tainted their souls and made them a different breed of human. A human who could give money back.

Or exchange for an item of equal or lesser value.

We, the common red vest hated them. With their keys, their codes, their prestigious looks. Yet we wanted to be them, and they knew it.

Chummy was the word to use. Laughing at every remark they made, despite it being less then clever. We did anything to win their favor.

“Oh, I put back all the returned shirts!”

“I neatly stacked the puzzles!”

“I found a tuft public hair in returned men’s white brief underwear!”

“What?! Gimme that!” A gander inside the bag, “Oh my. How could someone miss that?”

Translation, “how could one of the esteemed miss that?”

Sometimes they would choose one of us commoners on a busy day to help them behind the counter. The rest would look on our former comrade now glowing under the power of keys and codes. We would remark about how they’ve changed, how they think they are better then us. Until One of us was called behind.

We were better. We did less. We could tell other people what to do.

And it felt good.

Those of us who graced the linoleum floors behind the customer service counter the Mmm-K Mart learned a valuable lesson: always check the men’s underwear thoroughly if they return it, AND power comes on a plastic springie keychain that you wear upon your wrist.


~ by ambur on July 20, 2010.

One Response to “Remembering the Mmm-K Mart”

  1. I wouldn’t say it was the opposite at Walmart. They still held the power, but a version of power I didn’t covet. They had a power to unload my problems. I saw them as a solution (even if temporarily)

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