Hey. It’s me. The Chief.

Do you prefer Walmart or Wal-Mart? To me, dashes went out in the 90’s, but do you bro. At least you made it out of that Wally World stage, am I right? Sure, a few people still call you that, but those of us with teeth don’t. So that’s good.

Anyhow, let me start this letter by saying, I love you. I really do. There is no other place that I can buy a box of golf balls, a birthday card, and a twelve pack of Busch Lattes all in one stop.

Assuming you have those items in stock, but that’s a whole other issue.

What I’m trying to say is, you’re convenient. I’m a busy man and convenience is key in my life.

It’s no secret you get a bad rap. People fuss about you from the time they go in your store to the time they’re pushing two carts full of junk to their car.

I try not to do that. I understand that convenience comes with some setbacks. I cover my eyes to many of your flaws and try and teach others to do the same. I’m on your team.

That being said, you need to shit can a few employees.

Sometimes we have weak links. I understand how hard it can be to cut them loose. Believe me. Have you heard my podcast? I have three of ’em. The difference between my podcast and you is that people expect a shit show when they download my podcast, they aren’t looking for one when they cross your doors.

A few weeks ago I wanted to take my brother fishing. He needed a license and I needed a bag of Funyuns, so we went to you. Convenience, ya see?

We waited and waited on someone to come to the counter until finally, I went searching. I found a human wearing your uniform in the windshield wiper aisle checking on their Facebook. I asked for some help in sporting goods and they said they’d find me someone.

I waited and waited, then went searching again. I turned a corner and made eye contact with the aforementioned human and the human, that I know works in sporting goods, having a chat.

Upon seeing me, they sprinted to, and out, the doors in automotive. I don’t say sprint as an exaggeration. It was like I was the monster and they were Scooby-Doo and Shaggy. Usain Bolt level stuff. Pretty impressive actually.

Now I’m a little upset so I call the store.

Me: Hey can I get some help in sporting goods?

Human: Yes I’ll page them.

Me: Can they hear it outside? Because I have a hunch that’s where they are.

Human: One second.

*Customer needs help in sporting goods.*

I wait again, but not long before I call the store again.

Me: Yeah it seems they can’t hear it outside, can you forward me to a manager?

Human: One second.

The phone rings and rings and rings and rings.

Now I’m on the verge of insanity. I’m a mellow guy. I don’t like being angry. But here I am, walking through your store, with my phone on speaker, searching for the manager who doesn’t want to answer me.

I find the manager knee deep in what appeared to be one of the funniest conversations ever with a vendor. I interrupt with my phone still on speaker.

Me: Hey, you the manger?

Manager: Yes.

Me: Your phone’s ringing.

Manager: What do you need?

Me: Funyuns and someone to show up to sporting goods.

Manager: I’ll get someone over there.

Me: Don’t page them, they’re outside and can’t hear it.

Manager: I’ll handle it.

Sure enough, the manager kept his word. Someone did in fact show up. Not the one who sprinted, I assume they were too tired from setting the record for the forty yard dash.

I know you have a hard time finding good help. Hell, you completely gave up on finding cashiers and said screw it, let people scan their own stuff. I get it.

I’m not saying all of your employees are bad. The majority are very helpful. All I’m saying is, when you’re ready to trim some fat, I have a few suggestions.

Until then, you’re still my main girl. Like the philosopher Tupac once said, “I ain’t mad atcha.”

I’m mostly just upset that, in the heat of that debacle, I forgot the Funyuns.