I’ve been sitting in the in-house nail salon for two and a half hours listening to the chorus of checkout counters, accompanied by the drum roll of grocery carts, and the harmonizing effect of the screams of unaccompanied children. An occasional “Price check!” breaks up the verses, followed by the deafening ring of the door alarm, signaling yet another clerk’s failure to remove a security device from an article of clothing. The ensemble drops to a low hum while the slight rustle of grocery bags being packed fills the airways. Oh the glory of the Walmart soundtrack!

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