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I apologize for the language but I'm only repeating it for the full effect of the story.
I went to Wal-Mart last night to pick up a couple of tapes for a wrestling show I was going to tape (said show is why I didn't post this sooner, heh heh). Since I was only running in, grabbing two things, self-checking, and running back out, I didn't particularly care where I parked so I just swept into the first remotely decent spot I saw, about five back from the door and one row over, not too shabby. Also right next to a cart corral. I was in a bit of a foul mood already...for reference, I'm in this foul mood approximately every 32 days. It was compounded by the fact that I was going to have to pick up a meal for my mom at a Dairy Queen that I HATE going to as well as just my usual state of cheerlessness.
When I parked, I noticed a silver SUV a couple spaces over from me where a couple of teenage girls were loading up about two bags of groceries from a cart. They looked like your typical snot-nosed SC teenage girls...combined, they probably weighed 30 pounds, half of which was make-up, and two ounces of which were cell phone.
I try to ignore them and get out of my car, locking the doors and starting to walk around, when one of the wenches suddenly seems to thrust her shopping cart at me.
Wench 1: *chirpy* "Could you put this up for me??" *note the lack of please or thank you*
Me: "The fuck?"
Wench 1: "Put this up for me!" *now note the lack of actual ASKING*
At this point, she turns and heads back for the SUV. I manage to resist the urge to simply throw her down and start throttling, and instead drag the cart after her, watch her get into the passenger's seat, and then proceed to deposit the cart right behind their SUV in plain sight. The driver leans out the window and glares at me.
Wench 2: "Hey, you can't leave that there!"
Me: "It's not my bloody cart to deal with!"
Wench 1: *whining* "I asked you to put it up for me!"
Me: "And I'm saying NO! Put your own shit up!"
Wench 2: "But she ASKED!"
Me: "Just because you ask doesn't mean you automatically get what you want!"
Wench 1: "You don't have to be so mean!"
Me: "You don't have to be such a lazy fucking bitch! Put your own goddamn cart up!!"
At that point, the girl gets out and comes back to get the cart, still whining. "I ASKED nice, you were closer, now I have to walk ALL THE WAY..."
To which I broke in. "Do I have SERVANT written on my fucking forehead??"
They kept whining and bitching, and being up on this game, I took my notebook out of my purse and wrote down their license plate. And showed off my press badge while I let them know what I was doing. "And by the way, I'm writing down your plate number because if there's anything wrong with my car when I get back out here, I'm calling the police AND my boss at *newspaper* to deal with it!"
I then headed into the store. By the time I got out, they were gone and my car was as intact as it ever is.
If they were treating just some girl in the parking lot that way, I can only imagine how they would act towards store employees. UGH.
I hope they try to call the paper and complain about me. My bosses will rip them new ones. *snicker*
I went to Wal-Mart last night to pick up a couple of tapes for a wrestling show I was going to tape (said show is why I didn't post this sooner, heh heh). Since I was only running in, grabbing two things, self-checking, and running back out, I didn't particularly care where I parked so I just swept into the first remotely decent spot I saw, about five back from the door and one row over, not too shabby. Also right next to a cart corral. I was in a bit of a foul mood already...for reference, I'm in this foul mood approximately every 32 days. It was compounded by the fact that I was going to have to pick up a meal for my mom at a Dairy Queen that I HATE going to as well as just my usual state of cheerlessness.
When I parked, I noticed a silver SUV a couple spaces over from me where a couple of teenage girls were loading up about two bags of groceries from a cart. They looked like your typical snot-nosed SC teenage girls...combined, they probably weighed 30 pounds, half of which was make-up, and two ounces of which were cell phone.
I try to ignore them and get out of my car, locking the doors and starting to walk around, when one of the wenches suddenly seems to thrust her shopping cart at me.
Wench 1: *chirpy* "Could you put this up for me??" *note the lack of please or thank you*
Me: "The fuck?"
Wench 1: "Put this up for me!" *now note the lack of actual ASKING*
At this point, she turns and heads back for the SUV. I manage to resist the urge to simply throw her down and start throttling, and instead drag the cart after her, watch her get into the passenger's seat, and then proceed to deposit the cart right behind their SUV in plain sight. The driver leans out the window and glares at me.
Wench 2: "Hey, you can't leave that there!"
Me: "It's not my bloody cart to deal with!"
Wench 1: *whining* "I asked you to put it up for me!"
Me: "And I'm saying NO! Put your own shit up!"
Wench 2: "But she ASKED!"
Me: "Just because you ask doesn't mean you automatically get what you want!"
Wench 1: "You don't have to be so mean!"
Me: "You don't have to be such a lazy fucking bitch! Put your own goddamn cart up!!"
At that point, the girl gets out and comes back to get the cart, still whining. "I ASKED nice, you were closer, now I have to walk ALL THE WAY..."
To which I broke in. "Do I have SERVANT written on my fucking forehead??"
They kept whining and bitching, and being up on this game, I took my notebook out of my purse and wrote down their license plate. And showed off my press badge while I let them know what I was doing. "And by the way, I'm writing down your plate number because if there's anything wrong with my car when I get back out here, I'm calling the police AND my boss at *newspaper* to deal with it!"
I then headed into the store. By the time I got out, they were gone and my car was as intact as it ever is.
If they were treating just some girl in the parking lot that way, I can only imagine how they would act towards store employees. UGH.
I hope they try to call the paper and complain about me. My bosses will rip them new ones. *snicker*
I AM the evil bastard!
Whatever happened to asking someone politely?
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