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Greetings, ye goers of the internet!
Ignore the title, if you wish, for it does not really intentionally reflect upon anything. I thought it up just now, and it seemed amusing (which is not a shock, as I find everything amusing) and slightly sideways enough to count as odd enough to use as the title of the post that I shall use to introduce myself to everybody. So yay for me. Yay for anybody who actually found it funny, for that matter
Let me see. I found this wonderful gem of a place via the other wonderful gem of a place known as The Devil's Panties, which I have read off and on for a few years now. While randomly clicking links at three AM is typically a bad thing and leads to computer viruses and mental floss, this time around random clicking managed to lead me here. I poked around a bit, and decided that this here was exactly the sort of place that I could fit in, given I shove a number of my oddities into the back of my closet where none of you will ever see them. Unless, of course, you break into my apartment and rummage through my closet, which, I have to admit, would be pretty creepy, in an epic sort of a fashion
I am currently unemployed, as I quit my last job two months ago when a customer decided to throw a half-kilo block of cheese at me. Ten bucks an hour? Not worth it. But before I began this wonderful life of gainless unemployment, I was gainfully employed slicing meat and cheese for the most rude people on the entire face of the planet. Ten bucks an hour to slice meat and cheese, all with the risk of slipping and taking off one of my fingers. It was glamorous, let me tell you. The awards ceremonies, the people begging for my autograph, the fast cars and the- Wait, sorry, for a moment there, I thought I was someone famous and I actually had an interesting job. I am not. And I don't. Back to reality. I worked there for just over a year, and I had my fair share of (mis)adventures, hopefully enough so that I won't be too out of place here.
I suppose I should start (errr... If I'm three paragraphs in, does it count as starting?) with a quick story about my glory days in the fast pace world of slicing meat for complete strangers.
This Is Not The Deli You're Looking For
I guess this is technically a lousy customer, but the thought of this poor, befuddled man kept me happy and sane for several good, long months afterwards, and to this day makes me laugh a bit when I think of it, so I can't really call him a bad customer. If anything, he kept me sane-ish. I mean, as sane as the likes of me can possibly manage, which honestly really isn't saying much.
It's about seven o'clock, tuesday night, sometime last winter. Seven was typically the quietest time of the day, and tuesday was by far our quietest day of the week, and - as such - seven PM on tuesday was the quietest time of the entire week. And I probably could have cut that short by merely stating that there was only two or three customers in the entire store, and none of them were currently at the deli. So, too early to clean the machines, no need to open more meat and the rest of the departments don't need our help, we start talking about various things that I can't for the life of me remember. Our topic of conversation really isn't the meat of this story, after all, and as such, not really worthy of mention.
Anyway, a man walks into the store, and of course he decides to walk straight up to the deli. We spot him, and I tell my coworker that I'll help him. The following conversation, I promise you, is word for word.
Me: Hello, Sir! What can I get for you tonight?
Customer: Uh... Can you get me a pound of ground beef?
Me: Oh! I'm sorry, sir, we don't have a butcher shop here, we only serve cold cuts.
Customer: *stares at me for a minute* Do you work here?
My brain: No, no, I'm wearing this absurd white coat that doesn't quite fit and has half the buttons missing because I'm on the company bowling team. And I'm standing behind the deli, asking you what you want me to get for you because I just want to see what it feels like to stand behind a deli and pretend to work.
My words: Yes, Sir. I work here.
Customer: Oh... *stares at me more* In that case, can you get me a whole cow's leg?
Me: Err... I'm sorry, sir, we don't have a butcher shop here, we only serve cold cuts.
Customer: ...Oh...
At which point he stands there, silently, for about thirty seconds. Turns. And leaves the store without another word.
He really, really made my day. If I had any idea as to where a local butcher shop was, I would have directed him there for sure. Good times, good times.
Anyway, I look forward to sharing epic tales of woe with all of you at later points in time!
-Kring
Ignore the title, if you wish, for it does not really intentionally reflect upon anything. I thought it up just now, and it seemed amusing (which is not a shock, as I find everything amusing) and slightly sideways enough to count as odd enough to use as the title of the post that I shall use to introduce myself to everybody. So yay for me. Yay for anybody who actually found it funny, for that matter
Let me see. I found this wonderful gem of a place via the other wonderful gem of a place known as The Devil's Panties, which I have read off and on for a few years now. While randomly clicking links at three AM is typically a bad thing and leads to computer viruses and mental floss, this time around random clicking managed to lead me here. I poked around a bit, and decided that this here was exactly the sort of place that I could fit in, given I shove a number of my oddities into the back of my closet where none of you will ever see them. Unless, of course, you break into my apartment and rummage through my closet, which, I have to admit, would be pretty creepy, in an epic sort of a fashion
I am currently unemployed, as I quit my last job two months ago when a customer decided to throw a half-kilo block of cheese at me. Ten bucks an hour? Not worth it. But before I began this wonderful life of gainless unemployment, I was gainfully employed slicing meat and cheese for the most rude people on the entire face of the planet. Ten bucks an hour to slice meat and cheese, all with the risk of slipping and taking off one of my fingers. It was glamorous, let me tell you. The awards ceremonies, the people begging for my autograph, the fast cars and the- Wait, sorry, for a moment there, I thought I was someone famous and I actually had an interesting job. I am not. And I don't. Back to reality. I worked there for just over a year, and I had my fair share of (mis)adventures, hopefully enough so that I won't be too out of place here.
I suppose I should start (errr... If I'm three paragraphs in, does it count as starting?) with a quick story about my glory days in the fast pace world of slicing meat for complete strangers.
This Is Not The Deli You're Looking For
I guess this is technically a lousy customer, but the thought of this poor, befuddled man kept me happy and sane for several good, long months afterwards, and to this day makes me laugh a bit when I think of it, so I can't really call him a bad customer. If anything, he kept me sane-ish. I mean, as sane as the likes of me can possibly manage, which honestly really isn't saying much.
It's about seven o'clock, tuesday night, sometime last winter. Seven was typically the quietest time of the day, and tuesday was by far our quietest day of the week, and - as such - seven PM on tuesday was the quietest time of the entire week. And I probably could have cut that short by merely stating that there was only two or three customers in the entire store, and none of them were currently at the deli. So, too early to clean the machines, no need to open more meat and the rest of the departments don't need our help, we start talking about various things that I can't for the life of me remember. Our topic of conversation really isn't the meat of this story, after all, and as such, not really worthy of mention.
Anyway, a man walks into the store, and of course he decides to walk straight up to the deli. We spot him, and I tell my coworker that I'll help him. The following conversation, I promise you, is word for word.
Me: Hello, Sir! What can I get for you tonight?
Customer: Uh... Can you get me a pound of ground beef?
Me: Oh! I'm sorry, sir, we don't have a butcher shop here, we only serve cold cuts.
Customer: *stares at me for a minute* Do you work here?
My brain: No, no, I'm wearing this absurd white coat that doesn't quite fit and has half the buttons missing because I'm on the company bowling team. And I'm standing behind the deli, asking you what you want me to get for you because I just want to see what it feels like to stand behind a deli and pretend to work.
My words: Yes, Sir. I work here.
Customer: Oh... *stares at me more* In that case, can you get me a whole cow's leg?
Me: Err... I'm sorry, sir, we don't have a butcher shop here, we only serve cold cuts.
Customer: ...Oh...
At which point he stands there, silently, for about thirty seconds. Turns. And leaves the store without another word.
He really, really made my day. If I had any idea as to where a local butcher shop was, I would have directed him there for sure. Good times, good times.
Anyway, I look forward to sharing epic tales of woe with all of you at later points in time!
-Kring
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