I came here all set to write a decent review on a Target. And then I saw Kristina R's and now I feel all dirty. I was tempted to knock a star off for that, but I'll decide how to solve my moral dilemma later.
I like the remodel this store got, even if it means I have to look at signage (ugh) to figure out where I need to go. I cannot get out of Target for under $50, ever. Even if I'm going to buy a quick bday card and some tissue to wrap a gift. Even if I'm grabbing toilet paper and toothpaste and THAT IS IT.
It's never it. Target is the pusher of the impulse buy, and I am the helpless user. I'm addicted. I'm a sucker for clever packaging and bright colors and affordable prices! Normally shopping at a Target store is akin to standing in line at a DMV in a third world country that's having a toy sale, but my last trip was much better than I had feared.
I fell victim to a pair of shoes at the Target in Vacaville (yeah, that's right, I bought shoes at Target, and I bet you'll tell me you think they're cute too, before you find out they're from Target and that I'm cheap and low budget and then you'll give me the stink eye and stop being my friend, but SCREW YOU! Cute shoes for under $30 even if they do make my feet bleed? RING. IT. UP.) only to find that I purchased two different sizes. How did I find out? Well I wore them all day of course and wondered why one kept slipping off and trying to kill me every 30 seconds. So here I am - cheap plastic shoes that I have worn and sweated all over for a day. And now I have to try to deal with Target's * cough * "Customer Service" department. Dealing with them is about as simple and pleasant as exchanging something you bartered for with an angry, syphilitic gypsy. So I stop in to exchange my shoes and pick up 2 items: motor oil for Fritz (approximate price - $10), and some inflatable rafts for the floating I plan to do this weekend (approximate price - $10).
$70 dollars later, I'm ready to exchange the shoes. And I'm scared. And whammo blammo, the girl apologizes for my inconvenience and exchanges them, just. Like. That.
What? Where am I? Did I fall down the rabbit hole? Vortex? Worm tunnel? Was exchanging something I had already used just. . . . simple? I almost had a heart attack! But then I noticed I was double charged for my snack mix (what, I was on my way to a movie, I had to pick up SOMETHING to nibble) and felt a little of my grasp on reality returning.
Had it not been for the tasteless thug shouting into his cellphone about someone who was giving him a hard time about lending him money (the nerve of some people), and using the most brightly colored language I've heard this side of a Yosemite Sam tirade, I may have forgotten where I was altogether. Thank goodness for locals! read more