Eli Hodapp’s large collection of words.

I used to always say my own personal hell would be spending eternity waiting in line at Wal-Mart behind someone who doesn’t speak English with half a dozen screaming children going through two hundred coupons and then attempting to write a check for seven dollars. This is such a short-sighted version of hell though, because at least at Wal-Mart, there is only one line to wait in as oppose to Tiger Direct’s three or possibly four different lines you must conquer to purchase something.

Naturally, you’re thinking, “So why do you even bother shopping there?” Well, that’s always the catch. I never EVER willingly go to Tiger Direct. 99.9% of the time I’d rather just order whatever computer component, networking device, or other gizmo online, gladly pay for shipping, and wait for it to arrive… even if it takes weeks. But then there is that other 0.01% of the time where I need something for a project at work, a client I’m dealing with, or someone in between and can’t wait for it to ship from NewEgg. In times like this, it’s never something easy and generic I need that could be picked up at Best Buy, it’s something that needs to be pulled from the warehouse.

Getting an item pulled from Tiger Direct’s warehouse goes a little something like this:

First off, you navigate their parking lot and manage to somehow defy the laws of physics and squeeze your car in to a spot which is actually 2 feet narrower than your car. To not be a jerk, you shimmy out your door trying not to hit the car next to you- getting totally filthy in the process from rubbing up the side of both cars.

Once inside the store, you take a quick walk through the several aisles of no-name junk they’re pushing to idiots. ULTRA, SystemMAX and other brands which absolutely radiate quality. Once you’ve verified the widget you’re coming to Tiger Direct for isn’t easily available for you to just grab and buy in their store front, you lower your head and go stand in line at the parts counter.

Behind the counter there are at MOST two people “working”. I’ve wondered at times if their job title is “human paperweight” from how little they get done. Their prime directive is making sure the half a dozen tiles on the floor directly under the cash register don’t float away in the event of gravity reversing. While accomplishing this task, they’re also capable of taking part numbers from customers to get things pulled from the warehouse. Capable, being the key word here. If there is absolutely anything else more entertaining for them to do at the time, this comes first. For this reason, it’s in your best interest to get to Tiger Direct EARLY. Come any later than 11:00 AM and you’ll find yourself stuck in the middle of computer game story time.

Typical Tiger Direct parts counter employee.

I hope you didn’t need that two dollar DB9 sex change adapter too urgently, it’s going to have to wait for Lord Dorkburger to regale his merry men with tales of his grand adventures in the mystical and magical world of Azeroth from the night before. After that, Lieutenant Numbnuts, clan leader of the most awesome Counter-Strike clan to ever hit the internet will take the podium and debrief the rest of his squad with a play-by-play account of their most recent tournament match. In the intermission between stories and Baconators, someone might take your part numbers. Maybe. If they can get around to it.

Once your warehouse order is placed, congratulations, the wait isn’t even half over. I’ve come to the logical conclusion that the terminals that the hard-working Tiger Direct employees use to enter in part numbers actually isn’t a computer, but is instead simply the trigger to some hilariously complicated Rube Goldberg machine. Remember how well the board game Mouse Trap worked? I’m thinking their warehouse back-end works on about the same level of efficiency. As you feel your life literally ticking away, you completely exhaust your phone’s stock of games. I’ve actually beaten Snake waiting for items at Tiger Direct. I didn’t even think that was possible.

A few hours later, the bastard spawn of Jabba the Hutt and Slowpoke Rodriguez slowly creeps out of the warehouse door.

Typical Tiger Direct warehouse employee.

This same mutant then slowly creeps across the fifty feet between the door and the rack where items pulled from the warehouse are then placed leaving a trail of slime behind like some kind of slug. I’m not being sarcastic when I say the only way this person could be moving slower is if he laid down and took a nap. …But who cares! Your item is finally pulled from the warehouse! It’s yours!

Not so fast, mister.

You can’t just walk up and grab it, Lord Dorkburger and/or Lieutenant Numbnuts has to hand it to you, and there’s a line! As you find yourself waiting, again, you start to realize that there are at least a dozen if not closer to two dozen people just standing around doing little more than making sure their nasal passages are completely cleared. Why can’t one of these people simply grasp your item from the rack and hand it to you over the counter is one of history’s greatest unsolved mysteries.

Once again you find yourself playing Snake on your cell phone, maybe even going through the different menus to see if there’s anything else that could possibly entertain you, setting your wrist watch synchronized to the second, jingling your keys,  and who knows what else. By the time you get up to the counter and finally get your item, your legs are hurting, your annoyance level is at an all-time high and you just want to get the hell out.

Time to go stand in line for a cashier.

Tiger Direct has six, maybe eight different cash register lanes and  it does not matter if the line wraps all the way around the store twice; nothing short of the clouds parting and black baby Jesus descending from the heavens and commanding them to open a second lane will have any effect. Again, you will notice a small hand full of cashiers also standing around doing nothing, or attempting to look busy shuffling things around behind the nearby customer service desk. Also, every “cashier” they employ appears to never have been trained on how to use the cash register. Instead, as if they were apes, they randomly mash keys until the screen displays some form of positive reinforcement indicating progression in the transaction. To make this entire situation worse, if that were even possible, all of their cashiers have Guinness-Book-worthy long fingernails, which needless to say is a very practical thing to have when your job revolves around using a computer keyboard.

Typical Tiger Direct cashier.

Every other customer will also attempt to write an out of state check without any form of ID just to stall the line a little bit more.

Once you actually manage to pay for your item, a feeling of accomplishment washes over you like you just successfully beat some impossibly difficult NES game without cheat codes or the Game Genie.

WAIT!

Now the toughest part- The security checkpoint. Tiger Direct’s store policy involves a rent-a-cop posted at the door to “check” your receipt. Depending on the type of security guard working that day there may or may not be a line.

I TAKE MY JOB VERY SERIOUSLY - The first type of security guard will check over EVERY item on your receipt, give you the stink eye, possibly detain you for questioning, insist on getting out the metal detecting wand just to make sure you’re not pocketing any Anti-Virus software.

TEN MINUTES TO LIVE - The  second type of security guard is some washed up old man who can’t quite make ends meet with social security alone. For whatever reason he has chosen to live out his golden years guarding the exit of a terrible factory outlet. The old man security guard doesn’t take much interest in his job, and usually doesn’t give you a second look. This is my favorite type of rent-a-cop. They’re usually far too close to death to worry about giving you a hard time.

TWELVE BACONATORS DOWN AND ROOM FOR MORE - To the third type of security guard, “big boned” would be a compliment. I’ve always wondered the sheer logistics of getting inside of the Tiger Direct building when you’re that morbidly obese. I suppose since they are a warehouse they do have a freight dock, that’s probably big enough to squeeze through. Either way, I’m not quite sure if wide-load takes his/her job seriously or not. The excess fat build up around the neck and presumably the vocal cords have effectively blocked all forms  of speech, so fatty rent-a-cop communicates in a series of grunts, squeals, and guttural moans. I presume one loud assertive grunt means “Please place your receipt within the reach of my greasy highlighter because my severe obesity has rendered me incapable of performing even the most basic tasks,” but one can never be too sure.

The third type of security guard terrifies me the most. While the threat of being detained and interrogated by the first type of security guard is horrifying in its own way… nothing could stop the sheer momentum generated if someone that large actually managed to pick up some speed- like the Juggernaut from X-Men.

If you value your sanity, avoid Tiger Direct.

That’s pretty much all there is to it.

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