I love some discount shopping. When I can find a light-up skeleton at Walgreen's for $5.99, I'm a happy girl. (And some people think I'm difficult to please ...)
The obvious perk of discount shopping is the low prices because, let's face it, it's not like you're really paying for much else. Organization? Not so much, but if I said I didn't enjoy digging through piles off-brand sweat pants for the one pair without a spelling error, I'd be lying. Customer service? Very much depends. It's better not to ask questions if you can avoid it. Quality? My light-up skeleton is holding up well, but it's always a crap shoot.
A few weeks ago, I wasn't even offered bags for my merchandise as I picked up Halloween party decor. (This is probably punishment for not being more concious of my carbon footprint and carrying my own reusable totes everywhere, but there are times a girl forgets.) I placed my items on the counter (creepy burlap tie included because, well, it was there, and it was cheap) to check out; the woman working in the store scanned each item. Then she handed each item back to me to put in the cart sans bag. It was a little weird, but when you're at Garden Ridge, you roll with Garden Ridge.
Anyway, all of this is leads me to one of my favorite aspects of the bargain-loving lifestyle -- incoherent instructions. If you're buying way, way below retail, it's generally accepted that you're going to have to figure out how everything works by yourself, and I'm fine with that. It's usually when directions are included that things get a little fuzzier. For example:
If I hadn't know what I bought, this would be confusing as all get out. (And am I crazy, or does this look a little bit dirty? Gross, maybe?)
The next set of guidelines I found included written instructions that were in English, not as common as you would think, but I still found the drawings disturbing.
There's something really icky about this one to me -- and, yes, I also think this looks dirty; go ahead and judge me. (I don't deal well with things that look disjointed or bulbous. It's a thing.) I'm also unsure as to why it is necessary to tell me to "watch the set eerie glow." If the goal was to be creeped out on Halloween, I succeeded only by opening the box on this one.
Would you have ever guessed that the first set of directions go with this light-up Zombie? (I never said I shopped for normal stuff.)
Yes, that drawing depicts an arm clutching a beating heart on a cord. Our second set of directions actually shows this:
Because, you know, why draw the hand from the front -- where it actually looks like a hand -- when you can draw it from the side?
In retrospect, I'm not really sure the problem is with where I'm shopping so much as it is with what I'm shopping for, but I'm going to save self-reflection for another day.
Happy Halloween!
