To whom it may concern,
Your supermarket is the worst establishment (as I refuse to call it a business) I have ever seen and suggest not only immediately closing it’s doors, but also removing all signs and advertisements from view of the public, for fear that someone might see one and assume this supermarket was anything but the dirty hairs in a whale’s vagina.
For a very brief moment as a walked thought the front doors, without a cart, I was fooled into presuming this was a reputable store. So what there were no more carts left? So what one of their managers is walking around with a cigarette in his ear? This is a supermarket and after growing up in the suburban paradise of South Florida I would rather do my shopping there, as apposed to a corner store. How naive I was.
Pathmark executives, what an oxymoron, I am all about hiring the mentally handicap to bag groceries, but when you hire them as your store managers there is an issue. Explain to me how the f#@k you have two lanes open on a Sunday afternoon? There are 300 people in the store and you have two lanes open…one being operated by a fat, ghetto, loud mouth bitch and the other barely moving because a middle aged man that looks like he is coming down from a month straight cocaine high, has lost most of his basic motor skills. I have never been inside your store and waited less than 25 minutes in line. At first I thought you were just understaffed. I later realized you are just f-ing idiots. During my last visit to Pathmark I was in the diary isle looking at cheese, when a young lady with a clipboard asked if I had time for a brief survey. I told her the line was at least an hour long so I would have plenty of time for a survey. When I realize it was a survey for Pathmark, I ripped the clip board out of her hand, snapped it in two, dumped yogurt all over it, and threw it in her face. I then gave her my business card and told her to pass my message on to her bosses.
I remember one day while checking out, a group of young black kids, maybe 7 or 8 years old, started bagging up my groceries. I looked at the tattooed cashier for an answer to why these little children were touching my Mac and Cheese. She said that they are kids off the street and do it to make some extra money. I though cool, I’ll tip these little guys to bag up my…What the f#@k? That little one with the afro just put my Klondike bars in his pocket. I yelled out, “hey you little rabbit dick! What the hell you doing with my ice cream sandwiches?” He replied with a calm, “I don’t got no sandwiches”. “Mother f#@ker, don’t you got to be getting ready for the NFL, give me my damn Klondike bars! Then the other one tried putting my box of Fruity Pebbles under his shirt. “Dude, what are you doing?” “Who me? I ain’t doin’ nothin’. Why wassup?” “I see the box of pebbles under your shirt. “That’s my chest hair”. “Mother f#@ker you’re five years old. Get away from my sh!t”. In the midst of my cereal being stolen I didn’t know the third kid snuck behind me and got on all fours. The other two little ran over and pushed me. I fell over and sprained my wrist, they stole my wallet and as the hit the door they yelled, “goodbye mom” to the cashier. Just one of my many trips to the sh!thole named Pathmark.
Despite how expensive all the food stores are by my house I will never in my life go back to the Pathmark in Fort Greene, Brooklyn…because it blows…blows big dick….a thousand big dicks. I’m so frustrated talking about this store that I am ending this blog. I apologize if it didn’t have a climatic ended…I’ll get you off next time.
Hoping my mom will send me some food in the mail,