Am I Ugly, Or Am I Just In A Walmart?

An Essay

I’m old enough to remember a time when Walmart was a punchline used to label your socioeconomic status. “Damn, where’d you get them shoes at, Wallyworld?” Some of those jokes are still out there and I ain’t got no problem with it—but the truth is, Walmart has gotten so big and mainstream and carries so many products now that it ain’t much of an insult.I do think telling someone their baby has “Walmart feet” still holds weight, though—and I love that. Even though, unfortunately, it’s an apt description of my toddler’s little piggies.**

When I was a kid, we just had a regular Walmart, not a Supercenter, and the Neighborhood Markets hadn’t even been thought of. We also had a K-Mart, which was not quite yet thought of as Walmart’s dip-sh*t cousin but was well on its way. In K-Mart’s later years, I’m pretty sure they were exclusively used in child trafficking due to all the kids who’d get lost in the circular standing clothes displays, or left to die under piles of sweatpants that wouldn’t be restocked until the O.J. verdict was in. But I digress.

Point is, a lot has changed in my lifetime when it comes to budget retailers—especially Walmart—but one thing that’s held steady is the fact that every shopper looks like a half-dead demon with their skin either falling off or stretched like a balloon over that extra 200 pounds of Little Debbie weight they’re hauling around.

And before you, a Walmart shopper, start in on me for being ableist, fatphobic, or classist, I’m not talking about you!

I don’t mean that in the sense of, “Well, clearly my readers are special.” No. I mean it because it’s true—and I think the reason is so sinister it’s been hidden from the public by corporate overlords. Walmart is using either voodoo, hoodoo, or nanotechnology to place a thin portal in and around the store that changes either your appearance or your perception of others’ appearance.

It’s the only thing that makes sense.

Some of what I’m going to say might seem anecdotal to you, but it shouldn’t—because I shared my theories with my sister and she agreed with much of the data I used to reach my conclusion, and in my opinion, that’s as close to being peer-reviewed as this could possibly get.

“Corey, maybe you’re just shallow and find everyone unattractive!” False! I am a doughy, balding, middle-aged man who knows exactly where he stands in the hierarchy of society’s beauty norms, and I feel my standards accurately reflect that. Like most normal people, I find Sydney Sweeney to be extremely hot, but that doesn’t mean I’d kick Kathy Bates outta bed. No sir! Especially About Schmidt-era Kathy Bates, because I’m attracted to strong, independent women who put good-for-nothing men in their place! (Which my wife does every day, though she’s closer to Sweeney than Bates.)

And on that note, I have many attractive friends and family—men and women alike—and I know for a fact they shop at Walmart. But guess what? I’ve never once run into them while shopping there. And I mean that.

When I go to the regular grocery store, I can’t get out of there in less than an hour even if I only went for milk, ‘cause I run into every Tom, Dick, and Sally I went to school with. But the Walmart just down the street, where everyone I know gets their tires and premium steak? I’m in and out, baby. Nothing but ugly strangers I have no connection to.

So if everyone I know shops there, yet I’ve never seen anyone I know there, what other explanation is there besides face-morphing technology—aka The Ugly Filter

Now, why would Walmart do this, you might ask?

Well, truth be told, I think I accidentally figured it out in that last paragraph. Stay with me now. What’s the only thing a corporation cares about? Money. Correct. Now, in this world, what’s the only thing that comes close to being as important and valuable as money? That’s right—time.

We work hard so we can afford to enjoy the time we have, and we work even harder because, hey, if we retire early, we’ll have more time! But to a mega-corporation like Walmart, time also means money.

If a movie is three hours long, the theater can only show it so many times a day. This hurts not only the theater but the studio that distributed the movie. Less time = fewer showings = less money. That’s why a movie that’s only half as good may outperform it—because it’s only a third as long. Ninety-minute movies might be formulaic and predictable, but you can have twice as many showings, baby. And for the most part, people don’t wanna sit in the same place for three hours anyway.

They also don’t want to be in the grocery store longer.

So what if Walmart’s figured out how to make you subconsciously hurry up? What if they turn everyone else in the store hideous, sweaty, and highly contagious lookin so you move faster? You grab your shit, you avoid eye contact and keep yer head down, you don’t hang out in the aisles talking about your grandkids’ grades or your husbands bowel movements —you get the hell out. More turnover, more sales per hour. Boom. Time is money, and ugliness is time (somehow. Haven’t figured that out)

So no, I’m not saying you’re ugly. I’m saying you look ugly in there. On purpose. For profit.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I gotta go pick up some Kerry gold butter, a Baby Ruth, Now That’s What I Call Music 758, and a rotisserie chicken.

At Target. (Where they make everyone white)

‘Corey

*when a child’s feet are dirty on the bottom. Often black. Otherwise known as “grocery store feet” cause we let the little ones go barefoot a lot on account of its easier than hearing them cry when we try and put shoes on them

**Toes. The ones that went to market and so on

PS. I’m donating all the money I make in Cameo this month to food pantries. Get yours at Cameo.com/CoreyRyanForrester