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| - Visited the store on the date of this post at about 5 PM. If I hadn't of fallen in love with the hat I picked up, I would have fled the store. The line--holy cracker--felt like the DMV. There were only two cashiers, and then a floor supervisor/manager/head cashier/top coat factory worker kept wandering around the line and telling customers: "that is so cute. I want to buy that." Or, "Look at your son! He is so cute. Look. He's cute. Look."
Come on, lady. Open up another register! I don't want to be your friend. I want to go home.
She finally opened one up. I am second in line now, but the line behind me is building back up again. 10 deep now, full carts, babies behind me are starting to fuss and holler. A bag of brownie brittle has found its way into my arms (stupid impulsive line maze).
One of the cashiers finishes up with her customer. Rather than calling the next one over, this cashier proceeds to put every godforsaken piece of clothing the previous customer returned onto their hangers. And then I think I died.
When I returned from the dead, the lady in front of me asked her twice if she could check her out. Those clothes weren't going to unnecessarily hang themselves at that very second, though, so the cashier ignored her pleas. Meanwhile, the manager is now traipsing around again, looking confused.
The manager eventually jumps back on the register and takes the lady in front of me. I am finally at the head of the queue (took about 20 minutes, with only 4 people in front of me, mind). Other cashier is still just hanging clothes. I look behind me. About a dozen people now.
I finally just go up to the hanger lady and force her to check me out. I told her that the situation at Burlington Coat Factory was out of control. I don't think she cared. Perhaps if I worked at Burlington, I wouldn't either.
Every time I wear my stupid Burlington hat and shove brownie brittle in my face, my blood will boil.
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