No, this post is how Wal-mart makes me feel on those rare occasions when I am forced to enter one of those cinder-block structures of despair.
I feel like I am dying.
Let me illustrate.
Is it just one thing about Wal-mart that gives me a raging headache, a touch of nausea, and a very distinct sense that the world is doing the cha-cha through space.
I know for a fact that the flourescent lights play a factor. They cover the whole ceiling, spaced mere inches apart I am guessing but I can not confirm that as any attempts to look at the ceiling renders me blind from the bright, white glare. I am affected so strongly by the lights because of my sensitive eyes but I don't it is just that. The lights are just too bright. If you stay in a Wal-mart long enough your skin will dry and harden like the outside of a hotdog on one of those rolling thing a ma bobs at the gas station.
Now Target, Target is all different. At Target I am able to browse for upwards of twenty minutes before the icky feelings start. I like Target.
Back to Wal-mart.
So, I am in Wal-mart, eyes half closed, clinging onto whoever I am with(s) arm, being dragged around the store when part two of Wal-mart's Operation: Inua Death. The sheer amount of stuff my light blinded little eyes to take in is astounding. Product, product everywhere. Racks as far as the eye can see of poorly stitched together clothes under two dollars, cheap power tools, guns, and toys made of lead.
Bright lights + over-stimulation = tired aching, dizzy me.
Darn you Wal-mart, Darn you to a really smelly landfill.
But considering your customer base, you probably wouldn't even notice it.
I know for a fact that the flourescent lights play a factor. They cover the whole ceiling, spaced mere inches apart I am guessing but I can not confirm that as any attempts to look at the ceiling renders me blind from the bright, white glare. I am affected so strongly by the lights because of my sensitive eyes but I don't it is just that. The lights are just too bright. If you stay in a Wal-mart long enough your skin will dry and harden like the outside of a hotdog on one of those rolling thing a ma bobs at the gas station.
Now Target, Target is all different. At Target I am able to browse for upwards of twenty minutes before the icky feelings start. I like Target.
Back to Wal-mart.
So, I am in Wal-mart, eyes half closed, clinging onto whoever I am with(s) arm, being dragged around the store when part two of Wal-mart's Operation: Inua Death. The sheer amount of stuff my light blinded little eyes to take in is astounding. Product, product everywhere. Racks as far as the eye can see of poorly stitched together clothes under two dollars, cheap power tools, guns, and toys made of lead.
Bright lights + over-stimulation = tired aching, dizzy me.
Darn you Wal-mart, Darn you to a really smelly landfill.
But considering your customer base, you probably wouldn't even notice it.
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