Conglomerates Can Kiss My Beefy Butt

I think it is time to renew my rant on certain American corporations. The horrors that these organizations have inflicted on me and the rest of the American public is enough to make me want to puke in my new, cute shoes.

Just a few days ago, I had to use one of these institutions. Please trust me when I say I didn’t want to. Inner me was kicking and screaming all the way out of the car and through the automatic doors but there weren’t any choices for me to make and pain won out with its need for speed and convenience. It went just as poorly as I remember of so many past experiences.

You see, I was sick. And didn’t have time for a visit to the doctor. So the lovely man who is responsible for my rosy-cheeked health took pity on me and decided to call in the prescription I requested without making me go through the rigamarole of his usual poking and prodding. I guess he has finally realized that I am not an antibiotic-obsessed drug seeker. I don’t even take any drugs on a regular basis! Which was a problem. Because with everything packed, I had not a single container with my usual pharmacy’s number on it. With much trepidation, I pilfered through Kimono Hubby’s things and came up with his pharmacy’s number… the dreaded Rite Aid. Now I have repeatedly asked (read closer: nagged) him to switch to someone who wasn’t ripping us off but he staunchly refuses. Something about convenience and blah, bitty blah, blah, blah… Oh, were you saying something, honey? But desperate times call for desperate measures. So I stated the hated number to Doctor Save-Me-From-This-God-Forsaken-Pain and he called it in.

Three hours later, which I felt was entirely generous on my part, I went to pick it up. I kindly pass along my name and a big toothy grin to the counter person to show the man that I am extra special nice and ever so happy to be here at your fine Rite Aid establishment.

“Hmmm… no prescription for you,” he says.

“Yes, you do have it. Look again, pretty please with sugar on top.” Smile falters but remains mostly intact.

“No, no. One for Kimono Hubby.”

“No – mine. You’re wrong and I am right as always. Now give me my damn ‘biotic pills, asshole.”

“Doctor was not to be understood so we say it is Kimono Hubby’s pills.”

“Fine. What-the-frick-ever. His! Now give me! I pay and you give… damn-it-all-the-way-to-hell-and-back!”

“No – if not for you, then unlawful.”

“But if you couldn’t understand the Doc, why didn’t you ask for clarification like anyone with the intelligence of more than a knat would?! Mother %@#%$ ho-bag!!!!”

“Just didn’t understand... so guessed.”

And then I reached over the counter and choked him out until he was a purple-faced, bulging-eyed puddle on the floor.

Maybe it wasn’t exactly like that but it is very close. And also it is just another fine example of why I hate the Rite Aid institution. They overprice their products and hire the some of the densest people. Perhaps I am over-generalizing but I just can’t be responsible for giving those crooks any more money. In my defense, this case only had the prescription costing $1.63 and I was peeing needles so I made an exception. I won’t be dumb enough to do it again.

My beef isn’t just with Rite Aid. I hate Blockbuster, too. Those thieves automatically took money out of my account without my authorization for a late fee. It wasn’t that I wouldn’t have paid it. It was that I didn’t know I HAD a late fee. Does that give them the right then to just appropriate my money as they see fit? Perhaps calling me or mailing me to explain the situation and ask for me to handle it would have been a better approach? How they got my account information, I still haven’t figured out. Except from previous transactions… perhaps? I haven’t been back to them since. (Sunny aside – hugs and kisses to you, my lovely Netflix. I love the simplicity and ease with which you operate and make my day a sunnier one!)

Don’t even get me started on the con-artists that people call Walmart! Someone stop them already! They are raping not only the American people but our small businesses and their owners! My hate for Walmart is sooo deep and violent. I get sadistic if receipts show up in my house with their vile name on them. It is beyond me how people can not see the filth and wretchedness that encompasses all of their lousy buildings. Must stop now… I think I just saw steam in my peripheral vision. (Another even sunnier aside – bigger hugs and kisses to you Target! You are so pretty and clean and organized. And your little phones for assistance in every aisle are about the greatest thing since TP. I give you big, sloppy, wet-kissed props!)

I think it is high time that you join this fight with me! And while you are at it, who else do you want me to spout violence and hatred for? Because I am on a mean role this morning and will be the first to wave your flag with you!

Important Note to the Japanese: Please do not let me find these organizations in your pretty land. I don’t know where I will have to go to get away from these people next if you can’t ban them from your respect. I’m just not ready to move to Guam.