That Store That Must Not Be Named

I will call it purgatory. And I spent a large portion of my Tuesday in this cooperate-sized purgatory.

Funny how folks will pay $35/year to be a member of such a place. Sure you can buy in bulk for a reduced rate, but you can also sell your soul to the devil for an easy life.

I'm not quite sure how the two compare, but just go with it k? It's my cynicism.

I will continue now.

I walked into purgatory complete with proof of my employment, so that I might, too, become a member. But the letter was not written to the expectation of the gatekeeper, and I was not allowed in.

Ok, I was allowed in. But didn't get to have the discount.

I decided to shop anyway. I was already here. Supplies needed to be had. And I wasn't about to drive all over town to find yet another purgatory-like place.

After an hour or so gathering what I came for, I waited in the line. A long-ass line. Now this is specifically set up in purgatory as a way to pay penance, to stand alongside others and reflect on your life, your day, the calories in the cookies you're buying.

So I took this moment to reflect on how I had failed the gatekeeper upon entering. And with that, made a phone call to the office to notify my co-worker of what's expected in purgatory for future reference.

Funny, you can't find these details in the Bible.

Unloading my supplies onto the check out line, I anticipated explaining my lack of membership to the money changer. But she would not have it... she would not have me leave without bearing the mark of the purgatorial beast.

Back to the gate I went to receive my one day pass. Hey-when in Rome, do as the Romans do. So it is with purgatory... I must bear the same mark as each and every sinner in that place.

Here.... here's my one day pass ma'am. And may all of my brothers and sisters waiting behind me glare with their irritated stares and daggers as I have forced them to linger in the line of penance.

As if this merry-go-round wasn't embarrassing enough, purgatory had one more lesson to teach me.

I don't know if you know this or not, but purgatory does NOT accept VISA. MasterCard? Yes. Discovery? Of course. A debit card bearing all the funds you have? Naturally.

But not VISA. Of which I had two.

So out of purgatory I went, empty-handed, frustrated, embarrassed, and vowing never to return. Screw the line of penance, I'd much rather just take my VISA to a store of vast mediocrity.