The box said something like "No more bending to scrub your feet!" The name seems to be some kind of pun on "easy street," as in, "Wow, you've really got it made, now that you don't have to touch your own feet." It so happened I spotted it while in line to pay for old-fashioned pumice foot scrub - what a chump!
Naturally my resentment flows from the anticipation of all the hard work ahead of me, bending and scrubbing and opening (and closing! Ugh!) a bottle. It also encapsulates the most chafing aspect of the Wal-Mart experience, the laziness and alienation. People who can't be bothered to bend over to touch their own feet, whatever the reason, can hardly be expected to make an effort in any other aspect of their lives. You can't tell me people are buying Easy Feet so they can get on with the business of creating and producing and connecting with their fellow man. The lesson is repeated in microcosm in my every, every interaction at that store. Wal-Mart is stocked with the paltry rewards of people who have no time and seemingly no inclination to do anything other than suffice.
And that
is why
I hate Wal-Mart.
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