Every time we bad mouth Target (like when one of their managers verbally harassed an elderly handicapped woman), the entire comment section of this site suddenly goes frickin’ Devil’s Advocate. It’s testament to how much people love Target that our healthy constabulary of “Fuck Corporate America” commenters find their loins turned to jelly every time the company’s name is mentioned.

Still, it’s a company, and sometimes, companies just ask inexplicably weird. Ask Jennifer, who got just a nasty paper cut in Target. She started spurting gore all over the place. Yet when she asked some concerned Target employees, idling helpfully next to the Band-Aid section, if she could have a Band-Aid, they looked puzzled. “Band… Aid?” they asked, pronouncing each syllable with confusion, like cavemen trying to comprehend the Einstein-Rosenberg principle. And then they directed her to go bleed all over the customer service desk.

As Jennifer sums up, “I guess the moral of the story is to bring your own first aid for retail hazards.” Talk about how awesome Target is, and read Jennifer’s story, after the jump.

I feel like a bit of a traitor coming out with this, because I buy most of my household sundries from Target, but what they did to me Friday was so obnoxious…

I went to the Fremont, Ca, “Hub” store Friday afternoon to pick up some treats for Halloween goodie bags. I had no cart, because I had come in the back door of the store, which doesn’t have any free carts (they use one of those radio-cart systems that helpfully locks the wheels to keep you from taking a cart more than four feet from the door, so the carts are all hobbled on that side). No matter, I only need some bat shaped erasers.

After I grabbed those, I passed the food section and picked up a couple twelve packs of soda. While I was heading back to the back register carrying these, one of the boxes shifted, and the edge of the cardboard sliced into my finger, and I end up bleeding all over the boxes- but no problem, because here are two associates walking my way. I wave them over, show them my bloody finger, and ask if they have any bandaids (ironically, we’re right in front of the aisle with the first aid supplies.) They look at each other, look at me with my bleeding finger and my soda, and helpfully suggest I return to the front of the store and ask customer service for a bandaid- and when she catches sight of my expression, she suddenly notices I’m carrying these boxes- and so she offers to go and get me a cart. Seriously. Then they walk away without a second look, and I realize it’s a shorter trip to the first aid kit in my car than it is to customer service. So I guess the moral of the story is- bring your own first aid for retail hazards…

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