Saturday, January 29, 2011
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Copy and Pasting My Life
I feel like if I just posted emails I wrote to people I would actually have a fairly consistent blog.
This is an email I wrote to a friend today. It sums up my day:
I went to a store called Argos for the first time today. I had heard a lot about Argos. It is the closest thing to a British Walmart. Except you walk into the store and it is just books of catalogs. You find what you want in the catalog, write down the number, then go and pay for it. Then you have to wait for your number to be called to pick up the item. I had heard all these bad stories about. People would roll their eyes and say "Argosssss", but I thought it can't be so bad.
It was bad.
It was the exact clientele who might go to Walmart, but crammed into a smaller space, and getting angry because your item doesn't necessarily come in the order of your ticket number. For example I was number 211 and 215, 216, and 217 got served before me. I heard so many people mutter "Fucking hell!" under their breath, and some not so quietly. It seemed like everyone was angry there, maybe because the instant gratification of owning the product upon payment is missing.
And what did I go there to buy? A toilet brush and new kettle.
I am definitely back in England.
This is an email I wrote to a friend today. It sums up my day:
I went to a store called Argos for the first time today. I had heard a lot about Argos. It is the closest thing to a British Walmart. Except you walk into the store and it is just books of catalogs. You find what you want in the catalog, write down the number, then go and pay for it. Then you have to wait for your number to be called to pick up the item. I had heard all these bad stories about. People would roll their eyes and say "Argosssss", but I thought it can't be so bad.
It was bad.
It was the exact clientele who might go to Walmart, but crammed into a smaller space, and getting angry because your item doesn't necessarily come in the order of your ticket number. For example I was number 211 and 215, 216, and 217 got served before me. I heard so many people mutter "Fucking hell!" under their breath, and some not so quietly. It seemed like everyone was angry there, maybe because the instant gratification of owning the product upon payment is missing.
And what did I go there to buy? A toilet brush and new kettle.
I am definitely back in England.
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