Fun Fact: 90% of what I write doesn’t actually make me mad. It’s more just a way to make fun of something or somebody. . . . THANKS OBAMA. Because of this, I feel like I’m crying Wolfeº way too often. Well not anymore. I’ve decided to only write about things that I genuinely hate, such as Ragnar, Five Finger Shoes, and now. . . REI, which is kind of interesting because I bet people who run Ragnars, get their five finger shoes at REI. . . . Inconceivable! I think it’s going to be difficult to really express myself via words on a screen since the temperature at which my blood boils while thinking of dealing with REI cashiers makes my hands way too sweaty to type.
Now, I know that most of you are thinking, “but Matt, REI cashiers are so nice”, and you’re right, they are, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t want to crush my own head with their cash register when I am forced to have a 10 minute long conversation about how I don’t want a membership.
And that’s what it really comes down to. I’m not annoyed by the fact that despite watching hundreds of green vests wander around the store, none of them ever seem capable of helping anyone. I’m not annoyed by the fact that they made me wear a reflective vest and helmet to test ride a bicycle. I’m not even annoyed that the Sandy REI only carries Gerber brand knives, even though those are obviously the worst kind of knives . . . . What annoys me the most is how incredibly persistent they are that everyone on the planet be an REI member.
I’m not sure why I have this desire to not be an REI member. Maybe it’s because it’s not a club that I’m really interested in being a part of, like the herpes club. Or maybe it’s because I don’t like people telling me what to do. Either way, any time I’m forced to go in, I dread the interaction. It kind of all started a few years ago, when I had a conversation that went something like this. . .
Cashier: Thanks for coming to REI, what’s your REI number (presumptuous)
Me: Oh, I don’t have one; I’m just passing through (this is obviously a lie, but something that I do to try and avoid what happens below.)
Cashier: Have you heard about our membership deals? (Who hasn’t?)
Me: Yeah, I’m ok though.
Cashier: Do you realize that you could be saving “x” amount of money on this purchase right now?
Me: Yeah, thanks though
Cashier: (having difficulty trying to comprehend). . . but you could be saving money, it’s really easy. You also have access to the membership garage sa. . . .
Me: (A little more forceful and annoyed) Look . . . I know. It’s just not something I want right now.
Cashier: You don’t want to save money?
Me: (firmly standing my ground based on principle) No. I don’t.
Kid Behind Me: (poking his nosy little face into my business) Can he use my membership?
Me: No. Nobody is using a membership number on my things. Give me my stuff before I scan your face into the counter. (I actually said ‘fine’ because I wanted to go, but I really should have stood my ground)
Maybe had it been someone that just let me go on my way without harassing me, I would have forgotten the situation and REI and I could be friends, but as it stands, that pompous little shithead (pronounced shith eed) ruined it for me. I feel like maybe REI could take a note out of the Matt Irving Playbook of How to Not be an Annoying Cashier® (coming out next fall) and maybe just have their cashiers be robots instead. Or they could just read a few pages from Matt Irving’s Guide to Not Forcing Your Beliefs on Others® (seriously, I should write this).
I don’t know why this kind of stuff bothers me. I should probably get help.
ºCrying Wolfe is similar to crying wolf, except it’s when someone cries about something only a junior high student would cry about, like braces, or not getting what you want for Christmas.