There are certain American chain stores that always have sluggish cashiers serving long lines of disgruntled customers. Even before losing droves of workers to the recession, these particular stores have been plagued with shitty customer service and eternal waiting periods. When you’re in a rush, you already know not to set foot in these five quagmires…
There is no register slower than the one at Modell’s Sporting Goods. Heavy emphasis on numero uno because no matter how many registers they actually have, only one seems to work. Regardless of what Modell’s store you go to, be prepared to do a bid; your fam will throw a “Welcome Home” party upon your return. Modell’s is an official sponsor of the New York Jets, an NFL team that sets the gold standard for ineptitude. In turn, the Jets must be coaching the customer service reps at Modell’s. The cashiers always fumble the ball and the store’s patrons gain no yardage from the line of scrimmage.
The line at Conway is littered with the skeletal remains of customers past. This bottom-of-the-barrel store is good for an inexpensive pair of name brand boxers and socks. But they may no longer fit by the time you reach the counter; you’ll shed pounds wasting away on that fuckin’ line. The cashiers move in slow-motion, like a fight scene in The Matrix, while removing tags and folding clothes. I have several gray hairs in my beard now… they all sprouted up during a trip to Conway.
The floors at Duane Reade must be made of quicksand, because once you go in you’re trapped. Since they’re a pharmacy that mainly sells medical shit, you’d think the folks at Duane Reade would have some sense of urgency. Hell no. If you’re sick, your symptoms may worsen while you’re on line, stuck in neutral. Even during the wee hours of the morning, at their 24-hour stores, there’s no such thing as a quick stop by Duane Reade. If the cashiers were as sharp as the security, who brazenly keep their eye on every Black person who walks in there, maybe we’d see progress.
There’s a scene in Poltergeist where Diane Freeling is running down a long hallway, trying to save her daughter from a malicious ghost in the bedroom. But the closer she gets to the door, the further away it moves… the hallway never seems to stop extending. That’s the only way to describe waiting on line at Target. Just when you think the line will budge an inch, the cashier has some kind of problem and calls for a manager, who takes their sweet time answering. Target should be renamed “Tar pit,” ’cause once you get inside you’re going to be stuck for a while. One day I’mma slam a giant hourglass on the counter and scream at the cashier, “The sand is runnin’, bitch!!! Hurry the fuck up!!!”
ANY STORE ON 125TH STREET IN HARLEM
The motto of cashiers on One-Two-Fif is “I’ll get to it when I get to it.” They should rename Starbucks on 125th Street Slowbucks. And don’t get me started on Staples; the gridlock on that line is worse than the Holland Tunnel at rush hour. Your watch will freeze up on 125th ’cause time has no meaning there. Why is everything for Black folks, including customer service, second rate? Maybe if the cashiers put down their cell phones and stopped playing the dozens with their co-workers, shit would speed up a bit. The sidewalk vendors move quickly, especially the guys with the bootleg CDs and movies. But that’s because the police are lookin’ for them.
Honorable Mention-Pathmark, K-Mart, Staples and Old Navy.