Space bitterness

I am a pretty simple person.  I don’t ask for much.  A million dollars in unmarked bills, an underground car storage facility and a media room with 7.1 Dolby Surround Sound.  I just need the basics.  The problem is that there is one basic need I have that I’m not getting enough of.  Space.  No I don’t need a Space Shuttle.  Like I am greedy.  Just a little space every once in a while.

I like basketball…a lot.  I used to play for a professional sounding team called Sioux Falls Community YMCA Spurs.  See, the Spurs are actually an NBA team, so in that one sense we were professional sounding.  Back to the point,  basketball is awesome.  You dribble around and try to find the best opportunity to get a shot.  In most cases, you get the ball to the best player (ie the biggest ball hog) on the team and let him shoot.  Because that is what teamwork is all about.  Everyone doing things for the ball hog, so he can make take 50 shots, make one and get all the glory.  (Wow, did I just make a metaphor for business as well? Sorry about that.  I’m not like I am bitter or anything.)  As fun as it is to play basketball, I think the one fundamental thing we learn from basketball (and soccer and football) is that we all crowd in little spaces around a ball.  (Yes, a ball. Are we Pavlov dogs barking after a ball?)  What this does is create a crowd of people.  It’s bad enough when I have to go to a crowded store to buy something (I’m talking to you Walmart), but to have to try to concentrate on making a fancy 360 windmill dunk in front of an adoring crowd of 7, while having a bunch of sweaty guys trying to get in your way is annoying.  It would just make the game so much better if the people on court could just get out of my way.

Speaking of Walmart and it’s unwillingness to stop annoying me, going to stores pose a particular problem of space.  Look I know Walmart has money, because I read things(like msn.com and entertainment weekly.com) and they seem to mention that WalMart semi occasionally turns a profit.  Why don’t they take some of that hard stolen cash and make a store that has some actual space? Like the aisleways for instance.   I get that they probably have to sell things in order to make the doucats, but I suggest they sell a few things that would free up some space.  One, Pizza Hut Pizza(in fact, just put a store inside, so I can call them for delivery while I am shopping.  Pizza Hut: What is your address sir?  Me: Aisle Three, by the Cherry limeade.)  Two, an Electronics section.  Movies, video games, 85 inch surround sound TV’s minimum.  Three, nothing else.  What else do people shop for?  Clothes? Shoes?  Yes, other people do.  But I don’t.  So if you eliminate those things, 85% of your customers will go away and thus your problem with space.  And I will come back finally(as long as you sell bitter merchandise like a Bitter Blog Book.)

Let’s talk about stores ugly cousin, parking lots.  Is it too much to ask for a spot to park in that is within a marathon’s distance of the store?  I’ve always dreamed about running a marathon (then woke up in a cold sweat that was more intense than the sweat I would have produced from running an actual marathon)  but I don’t want to do it from my car to the store.  Also if I have to park in an underground parking spot, can you avoid the 40 foot diameter concrete pole holding up the parking garage?  Some people like avoiding getting scrape marks on their cars when going around the corner (like I would know anything about scrapes on rear passenger side doors).   And could there be a section for tanks (or tanks much larger cousins the SUV) to park,  like at say for instance, somewhere else?

Squeezing into a parking spot is almost as bad as getting an MRI.  Obviously I am claustrophobic, making this machine is my worst nightmare (along with running a marathon).   Let me describe what an MRI is like.  Do you remember when you were born? No?  There is a reason for that.  It was so traumatic that your mind blocked it out.  When you are in an MRI tube, it is like being born, but for 45 minutes without getting to leave and being wrapped up in a warm blanket.  Or getting to be in the arms of loving parents.   It’s 45 minutes of pure torture, except in real torture the torturer gets tired after 30 minutes and takes his legally mandated 30 minute break.

Just so we are clear, getting no space makes me bitter.  Did you get the subtle message from this post? No, well then….

Arrrgghhh

Bitter Ben

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