The store has no…. ceiling.

I am a…. snob. I admit it freely. Not a snob in all things. Afterall, I am not French. My wife wished to do some shopping. I was bored. Too many hours sitting. By myself. Drinking coffee. At Starbucks. (Never Tim’s). I changed my clothes. I had decided to go with my wife. She was delighted. Someone to carry her burden. We arrived in front of the Walmart. Oh my god, I thought to myself. This place! My wife grabbed a cart and rushed off. I decided to tour the store. I’ve noticed that the people who shop in Walmart are brutishly ugly. And overweight. Everyone looks like the stereotypical American. And the people who work at Walmart. They look… defeated. As if life had played some cruel trick on the them and there they were… working in Walmart. The store has no… ceiling. It is warehouse shopping at its most elegant. I met my wife as she finished paying for her goods. I pushed the cart out of the store. And on our way to the car I pointed out these observations I had made about Walmart. My wife started laughing. She pointed at me. “You’ve got your shirt on, inside out.”