Yeah, if I ever walked into a DG that looked like that image I’d assume I was at the flagship store.

For the real experience:

• Move all of those shelves so that the aisles are about 1ft (~0.3m) tighter.
• From any point you can stand, you can see at least one display/section that looks to be one heavy footfall away from collapsing onto the floor.
• Nobody stocks, (re)organizes shelves, or “faces” product. That would eat into the profit margins. The products are unpacked and put out once, then never touched by employee hands again until they are scanned for purchase. If a customer picks something up and puts it down somewhere else then that item’s location is only known to them and whatever cruel god. You can often find nonperishable products in the wrong area that were discontinued years ago.
• Tile floor? If only you were so lucky. The floor appears, but cannot be confirmed, to have once been some form of green carpet many decades ago. Now it is some deep green, almost black solid sheet of matted “material” composed of trodden upon old gum, engine oil from the parking lot, and substances known only to the unspeakable outer gods. Congealed and compressed into a thin homogenous layer by the endless footsteps of the forsaken customers. Under the right hallucinogenics, you could be convinced that it is old rubberized tennis court floor long past its prime, but there is still something distinctly wrong about it. In your soul you know it was once carpet, and you cannot comprehend the path between that and what you behold under your feet.
• There is only ever two staff at most in the building, and you will only ever be allowed to percieve one. Attached to the register, unmoving like some sort of defeated gargoyle. Legends say the other employee is stationed on a desk chair in the closet they call a manager’s office, prepared to chase any ne’er do wells out with a bat as needed, but no one has witnessed this in recorded history.
• Things often cost more than a dollar. Bastards.