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I've been working retail since being able to legally work at fifteen. Grocery store, Pizza Hut, bus boy (some of you might remember the Bus Man shorts I made a few years ago), psych ward counselor, CNA, and most recently, convenience store clerk.
That being said, I have enlisted in the Marines, and have less than two months left dealing with the soul-sucking, bitter, welfare-leeching bastards that infest my store. (This is not an exaggeration, my store gets the town dregs.) Thus, I've been relaxing my control over my temper, and have begun to occasionally snark back at some of the more assholish pricks I have to deal with. Here's a few exchanges you guys might enjoy.
To Quote The Gord: "Is AIDS better than syphilis?
I don't smoke. Doesn't interest me as a bad habit, and here in Mass, it's ungodly expensive. Yet, every damn day, I have this conversation:
Idiot: "Got any specials?"
(Note: We only get specials if our vendor sends them to us. We get resupplied on cigarettes on Thursday, and specials are almost always gone by Saturday)
Me: "Nope, sold out." (Like I've told you a thousand times, stump-humper)
Idiot *annoyed*: "Fine, gimme a pack of menthols."
Me *Grrrrr*: "Which brand?"
Idiot: "Which is good for menthols?"
Me: "Wouldn't know. Don't smoke."
Idiot *looking at me like I have a certain part of Ron Jeremy's anatomy growing out of my forehead*: "You don't smoke? Why?"
Me *probably for the same reasons he apparently doesn't bath, I find it offensive*: "Dude, I work in a convenience store. How the hell am I supposed to afford a pack of smokes when I live on raman?"
This is usually followed by them buying the cheapest brand possible. Enjoy those Mustangs, buddy. I'm sure smoking the floor sweepings of the local pizza joint make for a great buzz.
I'ma bust you up, foo'!
Ah, the little thuggies. Where would I be without you cretinous morons to make my normally dormant aggressive nature roar like it's just been sucker-punched in the 'nads by a midget with brass knuckles?
(Due to abuse of the system and theft, we are no longer allowed to do refunds. Only the manager or asst. manager is allowed to. Oh, imagine the fun that is...)
So these two thuggie wanna-bes come up with their purchases, including a two gallon jug of water from the cooler. They pay, and as I finish the transaction, the short one (mentally and physically, I'm sure) decides he wants to exchange the two gallon for the twenty-four pack of half-liters.
Thuggie: "Yo man, lemme get dis instead. I don' want that shit." *pointing to two gallon*
Me: "Unfortunately, the transaction has already gone through. Store policy is I can't do refunds, which is idiotic. You'll have to come by tomorrow morning and have the manager or asst. manager refund it for you. They're usually here until one or two."
Thuggie: "Man, I ain' comin' back here! Jus' do the refund man, lemme get that one instead!"
Me *Thinking: Great, another ditch-licker who's gonna give me a hard time over something I can't control*: "Unfortunately, I can't do that sir. I have no control over this policy, otherwise I would have already done so."
Thuggie: "Man, don' you be gettin' no attitude with me!" (Oh no he didn't... yeah, he did.)
Me *switching from concerned clerk tone to I-Will-Erase-You-Voice-Of-God tone*: "This transaction is over. I have given you your options. Door is to your left, enjoy your evening."
Thuggie *grabbing his items while his friend is wisely silent through the whole ordeal*: "That's right, you better not cop an attitude with me, I'll slap you with this two-liter!" *exits with friend in tow*
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA... no. While I'm surprised you actually know what a two liter is, I'm sure it's only because you think yourself in with whatever the local hardcore drug-cooking gang-bangers are this month. Bitch, please. You'd be lucky if they'd let you spit-shine their overpriced Nikes.
I'm rather pleased he didn't try anything. More than likely, it would have ended up with him nursing a broken nose and me paying the company for a new counter top after slamming his face against it. Goddamn thuggies.
I will eat your soul
The Welfare Leech. God, I hate these people with a fury that can only be sated by setting them on fire. Growing up, we were on welfare for several months after moving to get away from my father, so I know what it can be like trying to exist on it. But these people...
Guy comes up, dressed rather nicely. I'm guessing some sort of office worker or maybe courier. Had several Ruiz burritos, a couple two liters, and a ton of junk food. Everything is scanned, hit total. He whips out that damned blue card.
Me *Thinking: Shit.*: "Okay, $X.XX is covered under this." *holding up the card*
Leech: "What?! This is all supposed to be covered!"
Me: "The burritos are not covered under this, I don't know why."
Leech: "But I didn't heat them up! They should be covered!"
Me: "Doesn't matter, they're not covered, nor are any of the burritos."
Leech: "But why not?!"
Me *shrugging*: "Don't know. Don't care. They're not covered."
Leech: "Then what am I supposed to do for food?!"
Me: "Might I suggest the raman on aisle three?"
Yeah, he wasn't amused. But Jesus Christ tap-dancing on a hot griddle, I despise these people. I want to find the rat bastard who thought it was a good idea to put things like ice cream, candy, donuts, and various other NON-ESSENTIALS to be available on welfare.
When I rule this country, I'm going to make it so leeches like this are put to work doing something useful. Maybe community service. Or digging ditches. Or maybe I'll just institute the Roman Gladiator system, and make them battle for our entertainment while dining on grapes and exotic cheeses...
You fucking faggot!
We have one semi-regular who is the very personification of the phrase, "Man-hating lesbian." I can literally see her bile and anger rise when she sees I'm the only one in the store working. While I do derive some amusement out of this, it's never been a factor until a couple weeks ago. Note: We get a few hundred people a day, so naturally, I don't remember everyone who comes in, even if they were in just that morning.
Man-Hater: "Need a pack of Marbs." *throws money on counter*
Me *feeling that eye tic starting up again*: "One pack of Marl reds. And I'll need your ID please."
(Now, I don't know her toilet habits, but I can only assume she uses course grain sandpaper to wipe her ass to achieve this level of pure attitude)
Man-Hater: "THE FUCK?! YOU'VE CARDED ME BEFORE, YOU ASSHOLE!"
Me *Ah, pure hate, how it warms my bitter heart...*: "Perhaps. However, I don't recall having seen you before. So I'll need to see your ID please."
Man-Hater: "THIS IS BULLSHIT! YOU KNOW HOW OLD I AM! YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY, DON'T YOU? THIS IS SOME FUCKING GAME TO YOU, ISN'T IT?!"
Me: "Actually, I don't know how old you are, hence asking for ID. And no, this is no game. If it was, I'd be hitting the reset button."
Man-Hater *storming out, nearly taking the door off*: "YOU FUCKING FAGGOT!"
I couldn't help it. I turned to the wide-eyed gentleman behind her. "Hmm, a homophobic remark from someone the whole town knows is a raging lesbian. The irony is... delicious." He nearly choked on his coke from laughing.
Alas, she still comes in every now and then, and is still a bitch. I would card her, but I'm afraid I'd close one night only to find her waiting in the parking lot with a broken coke bottle and more of her ilk. I value the family jewels too much to put them in that kind of danger. On my last day though....
Those are but a few I've been dealing with. Perhaps I'll post more if people are interested.
That being said, I have enlisted in the Marines, and have less than two months left dealing with the soul-sucking, bitter, welfare-leeching bastards that infest my store. (This is not an exaggeration, my store gets the town dregs.) Thus, I've been relaxing my control over my temper, and have begun to occasionally snark back at some of the more assholish pricks I have to deal with. Here's a few exchanges you guys might enjoy.
To Quote The Gord: "Is AIDS better than syphilis?
I don't smoke. Doesn't interest me as a bad habit, and here in Mass, it's ungodly expensive. Yet, every damn day, I have this conversation:
Idiot: "Got any specials?"
(Note: We only get specials if our vendor sends them to us. We get resupplied on cigarettes on Thursday, and specials are almost always gone by Saturday)
Me: "Nope, sold out." (Like I've told you a thousand times, stump-humper)
Idiot *annoyed*: "Fine, gimme a pack of menthols."
Me *Grrrrr*: "Which brand?"
Idiot: "Which is good for menthols?"
Me: "Wouldn't know. Don't smoke."
Idiot *looking at me like I have a certain part of Ron Jeremy's anatomy growing out of my forehead*: "You don't smoke? Why?"
Me *probably for the same reasons he apparently doesn't bath, I find it offensive*: "Dude, I work in a convenience store. How the hell am I supposed to afford a pack of smokes when I live on raman?"
This is usually followed by them buying the cheapest brand possible. Enjoy those Mustangs, buddy. I'm sure smoking the floor sweepings of the local pizza joint make for a great buzz.
I'ma bust you up, foo'!
Ah, the little thuggies. Where would I be without you cretinous morons to make my normally dormant aggressive nature roar like it's just been sucker-punched in the 'nads by a midget with brass knuckles?
(Due to abuse of the system and theft, we are no longer allowed to do refunds. Only the manager or asst. manager is allowed to. Oh, imagine the fun that is...)
So these two thuggie wanna-bes come up with their purchases, including a two gallon jug of water from the cooler. They pay, and as I finish the transaction, the short one (mentally and physically, I'm sure) decides he wants to exchange the two gallon for the twenty-four pack of half-liters.
Thuggie: "Yo man, lemme get dis instead. I don' want that shit." *pointing to two gallon*
Me: "Unfortunately, the transaction has already gone through. Store policy is I can't do refunds, which is idiotic. You'll have to come by tomorrow morning and have the manager or asst. manager refund it for you. They're usually here until one or two."
Thuggie: "Man, I ain' comin' back here! Jus' do the refund man, lemme get that one instead!"
Me *Thinking: Great, another ditch-licker who's gonna give me a hard time over something I can't control*: "Unfortunately, I can't do that sir. I have no control over this policy, otherwise I would have already done so."
Thuggie: "Man, don' you be gettin' no attitude with me!" (Oh no he didn't... yeah, he did.)
Me *switching from concerned clerk tone to I-Will-Erase-You-Voice-Of-God tone*: "This transaction is over. I have given you your options. Door is to your left, enjoy your evening."
Thuggie *grabbing his items while his friend is wisely silent through the whole ordeal*: "That's right, you better not cop an attitude with me, I'll slap you with this two-liter!" *exits with friend in tow*
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA... no. While I'm surprised you actually know what a two liter is, I'm sure it's only because you think yourself in with whatever the local hardcore drug-cooking gang-bangers are this month. Bitch, please. You'd be lucky if they'd let you spit-shine their overpriced Nikes.
I'm rather pleased he didn't try anything. More than likely, it would have ended up with him nursing a broken nose and me paying the company for a new counter top after slamming his face against it. Goddamn thuggies.
I will eat your soul
The Welfare Leech. God, I hate these people with a fury that can only be sated by setting them on fire. Growing up, we were on welfare for several months after moving to get away from my father, so I know what it can be like trying to exist on it. But these people...
Guy comes up, dressed rather nicely. I'm guessing some sort of office worker or maybe courier. Had several Ruiz burritos, a couple two liters, and a ton of junk food. Everything is scanned, hit total. He whips out that damned blue card.
Me *Thinking: Shit.*: "Okay, $X.XX is covered under this." *holding up the card*
Leech: "What?! This is all supposed to be covered!"
Me: "The burritos are not covered under this, I don't know why."
Leech: "But I didn't heat them up! They should be covered!"
Me: "Doesn't matter, they're not covered, nor are any of the burritos."
Leech: "But why not?!"
Me *shrugging*: "Don't know. Don't care. They're not covered."
Leech: "Then what am I supposed to do for food?!"
Me: "Might I suggest the raman on aisle three?"
Yeah, he wasn't amused. But Jesus Christ tap-dancing on a hot griddle, I despise these people. I want to find the rat bastard who thought it was a good idea to put things like ice cream, candy, donuts, and various other NON-ESSENTIALS to be available on welfare.
When I rule this country, I'm going to make it so leeches like this are put to work doing something useful. Maybe community service. Or digging ditches. Or maybe I'll just institute the Roman Gladiator system, and make them battle for our entertainment while dining on grapes and exotic cheeses...
You fucking faggot!
We have one semi-regular who is the very personification of the phrase, "Man-hating lesbian." I can literally see her bile and anger rise when she sees I'm the only one in the store working. While I do derive some amusement out of this, it's never been a factor until a couple weeks ago. Note: We get a few hundred people a day, so naturally, I don't remember everyone who comes in, even if they were in just that morning.
Man-Hater: "Need a pack of Marbs." *throws money on counter*
Me *feeling that eye tic starting up again*: "One pack of Marl reds. And I'll need your ID please."
(Now, I don't know her toilet habits, but I can only assume she uses course grain sandpaper to wipe her ass to achieve this level of pure attitude)
Man-Hater: "THE FUCK?! YOU'VE CARDED ME BEFORE, YOU ASSHOLE!"
Me *Ah, pure hate, how it warms my bitter heart...*: "Perhaps. However, I don't recall having seen you before. So I'll need to see your ID please."
Man-Hater: "THIS IS BULLSHIT! YOU KNOW HOW OLD I AM! YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY, DON'T YOU? THIS IS SOME FUCKING GAME TO YOU, ISN'T IT?!"
Me: "Actually, I don't know how old you are, hence asking for ID. And no, this is no game. If it was, I'd be hitting the reset button."
Man-Hater *storming out, nearly taking the door off*: "YOU FUCKING FAGGOT!"
I couldn't help it. I turned to the wide-eyed gentleman behind her. "Hmm, a homophobic remark from someone the whole town knows is a raging lesbian. The irony is... delicious." He nearly choked on his coke from laughing.
Alas, she still comes in every now and then, and is still a bitch. I would card her, but I'm afraid I'd close one night only to find her waiting in the parking lot with a broken coke bottle and more of her ilk. I value the family jewels too much to put them in that kind of danger. On my last day though....
Those are but a few I've been dealing with. Perhaps I'll post more if people are interested.
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