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During a night of minor league suckage, I had an interesting conversation with a woman who works at the local Big Lots. Big Lots is just down the street from my store.
This particular night, I was getting more easily annoyed than usual with the general public. I was waiting on a customer when one of those crazy random thoughts popped into my head. We could use one of those big, blow-up bobo dolls to demonstrate what happens to people who complain about stupid, petty things beyond our control -- like gas prices, cigarette taxes, or losing the lottery. See it could be worse for you. You could be this bobo doll.
Yes, such bizzarre thoughts are how I keep my sanity when the dumbassed masses are driving me crazy. I could feel the laughter at the back of my throat ready to erupt forward. I was fighting to choke it down. Finally, I lost the battle, but was able to stifle it some. Good thing it was slow at the moment.
She looked at me funny. I shook my head and told her it's just the insanity talking. She started laughing, and told me how they've come to the conclusion at Big Lots that all serial killers started as retail workers who were finally driven insane. I agreed with that assessment, and proceeded to tell her about the bobo doll working in the complaint department. She thought it was hilarious, too.
I've also thought about building a psychotic robot and programming it to obsessively clean all messes after killing those who leave them for us to clean.
This particular night, I was getting more easily annoyed than usual with the general public. I was waiting on a customer when one of those crazy random thoughts popped into my head. We could use one of those big, blow-up bobo dolls to demonstrate what happens to people who complain about stupid, petty things beyond our control -- like gas prices, cigarette taxes, or losing the lottery. See it could be worse for you. You could be this bobo doll.
Yes, such bizzarre thoughts are how I keep my sanity when the dumbassed masses are driving me crazy. I could feel the laughter at the back of my throat ready to erupt forward. I was fighting to choke it down. Finally, I lost the battle, but was able to stifle it some. Good thing it was slow at the moment.
She looked at me funny. I shook my head and told her it's just the insanity talking. She started laughing, and told me how they've come to the conclusion at Big Lots that all serial killers started as retail workers who were finally driven insane. I agreed with that assessment, and proceeded to tell her about the bobo doll working in the complaint department. She thought it was hilarious, too.
I've also thought about building a psychotic robot and programming it to obsessively clean all messes after killing those who leave them for us to clean.
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