It seems like there was something I wanted to tell you, but I can’t remember what it was.

Hello, Superman. Come on in, have a seat. Thanks for agreeing to meet with me. Just let me close the door here.

There. So, we finally have a chance to chat.

Before we begin, I just want you to know that everything started off pretty well here at the Smallville Wal-Mart. I know you moved back here a little while ago from Metropolis wanting to find your roots, and I hope you did that. I know our little paper, the Smallville Dispatch, didn’t have much to offer you due to cutbacks, but I’m glad you could find a place here at Wal-Mart.

And, not surprisingly, things started fairly well. People thought you were genial, and your presence here definitely helped out our sales on multiple occasions. You were fast around the store, and I’m sure the boys in back really appreciated your helping them move those big pallets with just a flick of the wrist. You have a lot of potential, Superman, and we all saw it when you started.

Which makes this so much harder to say, but I’m afraid I have to say it anyway– I wouldn’t be a very good general manager if I didn’t. I’m sorry, Superman, but I think your job here at Wal-Mart just isn’t working out.

People change, I guess, and as the honeymoon of having a real-life superhero in the store wore off, you’ve become a real burden on both the customers and employees. All this speedy running and flying around the store is, frankly, making everyone else look bad. I know you meant well, but when you used that heat-ray vision of yours to shrinkwrap those DVDs the other day– well, let’s just say there were a few customer complaints. And again, though we were all very impressed with your lifting abilities in the backroom, we found it kind of hard to explain to our Spanish-speaking employees what you were doing. None of us knows how to say “alien freak with crazy powers” in Spanish, and, well, you were kind of creeping them out.

And, Superman, the more I’ve watched you, the less pleased I’ve been with your overall performance. You’ve refused to wear the Wal-Mart uniform multiple times… Yes, I understand it doesn’t work with your cape, but we’d like to project a feeling of familiarity here that requires common apparel. And it seems that you’re always leaving the store without permission at random times. I know, I know, there’s always a giant meteor or a huge monster that needs a deflecting or a beating, but the fact of the matter is that there could be a customer that needs assistance in aisle 6 at any time, and here at Wal-Mart, we don’t want them to wait. Plus, since Lexcorp acquired our retail division in that surprise merger last month, you just haven’t shown the same commitment to the company that we’d like you to.

And I don’t mean to insinuate anything, Superman, but we’ve all noticed that you’ll spend a lot of time staring in the direction of the changing rooms right after some attractive woman has walked in there. I don’t mean to judge, but if what I think is going on is really going on, it probably shouldn’t be going on here at Wal-Mart, and that’s all I’ll say about that.

But nevertheless, Superman, I’m afraid we’re going to have to let you go. Besides all of the other reasons, we’ve determined that the Wal-Mart philosophy just doesn’t vibe with your ideas of “truth,” “justice,” or even “the American way.” We’re about low, low prices, not super-powered alien vigilantism. I’d be happy to offer you a recommendation, but I can’t promise it will be any good.

And I’m sure we’ll do fine without you. In fact, I have an interview this afternoon with someone that seems a better fit with our old-time values and demands of loyalty. His name? Let me check here. “Steve Rogers,” is what I have written down. Haven’t met him yet, but I’m sure he’ll be a terrific greeter.

That’s all, Superman. I’m sorry it had to end this way, but I’m sure you’ll do fine. Make sure to clean out your locker on the way out.