Sam's Club is Hell

I just returned from my second trip ever to Sam's Club. With multiple experiences at the establishment under my belt now, I feel justified in concluding that Sam's Club may just be the worst place on Earth.

There.is.so.much.crap. HUGE bundles of crap EVERYWHERE.

While the aisles are labeled, you need a map to navigate the place since walking around the store to figure out where bar towels are takes approximately 35 minutes. This is, of course, assuming that you're pushing your gi-normous, barely navigable cart around with you the whole time. You can't help but judge everyone you see there too. 13 pounds of grapefruits? 7.5 pounds of turkey jerky? Who are you people?

I apparently fit in perfectly with these people though, because not even at Sam's Club can I escape the mistake people always make wherein they assume I work at whatever retail store I'm patronizing, or, even if obviously a customer, ask me questions as if I work in said store. No, I don't have any idea where they moved the soda, and yes, I do have approximately 900 plastic cups in my cart at the moment, but that doesn't mean I know where things are in this hell hole, it means I asked someone in a vest.

It doesn't help that the store is located down the stretch of 29N that I happen to find the most depressing strip of road that I have ever traveled. My standard disdain was compounded today by the fact that, in addition to the water main work that forced two lanes to merge into one, there was a moving truck broken down on the way there, and a garbage truck broken down on the way back. No joke.

So to my coworkers who requested I pick up Shop Vac bags and hanging plant holders while I was there: I'm sorry I returned empty-handed, and admittedly I didn't even look for your stuff. Just be happy I came back with both my cups and my sanity.