(An ongoing series whose first part got locked.)
The Celebrated Jumping Frog Of Cook County
I swear this is true.
Rang up the very last plant from the greenhouse, which has already been disassembled, and after the order there seemed to be something about to fall into the small crack at the end of the conveyor belt. It looked like some sort of toy frog made of rubber, so I left it there, stopped the belt and finished the order.
Next order... well, this is interesting. There's a HUGE gap because the customer has started loading at the other end, which means the toy wasn't hers?
Then I looked more closely at the toy...
and I saw it breathing.
Now, this actual tiny frog had its front leg stuck in the crack, and I had no idea if it was trapped or what, but I was taking far too long and the customer started walking over to see what was the holdup. Meanwhile, I grabbed a paper towel and tried to get it off the belt.
It simply would not budge! Finally I pulled its front leg out (hoping I didn't hurt it), and it leapt about six inches down the belt, which didn't help any. Then came the inevitable-- as the customer reached the front to see what was the matter, I coaxed the frog off using the paper towel, but it jumped on the customer's arm!
"Get it off me! Aaahhhh!!!" Finally she shook her arm, and it flung the frog to under the candy display.
Afterwards, nobody believed my story whatsoever. "A frog in the store? Ridiculous!" I even told my next four or five customers to watch out so as to not run over a tiny frog, but it was gone.
After I got back from break, it turned out P. had somehow caught the frog which had moved its way towards the self-checkout. Wonder what it was going to buy? Anyway, I presume it was set free somewhere with lower prices.
Hell Spell Tells Unwell Mel
Mel (not her real name) is a nice person, one of the headicapped employees with a nice smile and demeanor. She used to date a fellow employee, but I'm not sure he was her type, because I don't think she really HAS a type; she seems to like everyone. OK. End of backstory.
During an off moment, when Mel stops bagging, she always asks personal questions of her checker (me), such as "What're you gonna have for dinner tonight?" (not asking me out, she just wants to inquire about what I usually eat) or "Do you dream about your frustrations?" (WTF?)
Yesterday, however, she started with a doozy: "So, how about that weather, huh?"
Now, I understand that erratic dialogue coming from the headicapped is to be expected and forgiven, so I do what I can to make silly answers. This time, however, is a problem, because it's a normal topic of discussion!
My response went, "Eh, 90°* isn't that hot. Tomorrow's going to get up to 100°."
"Don't say it! DON'T SAY IT!" She covered her ears. "I can't bear to hear these words."
"OK, forget I said anything. Hey, didja hear it's going up to 50° tomorrow?"
*For UK readers, I forgot how much it was in millipedes.
I Have Nothing To Offer You But Sweat, Toil, Sweat And Sweat
And it WAS 100° today. And I DID walk ten blocks to work. And I DID approach the front door, which slid open to let me in. And I DID go through the door into a nice 70° interior.
And it was ONLY THEN that I started to sweat.
Man. That cold air does it every time.
And it rained this afternoon, following a long drought of a couple of weeks. Mel didn't believe this either when I told it to her yesterday. It was the worst kind of rain-- hot rain. Always stay away from hot rain, it's bad news.
One-Question Quiz
What item in the entirety of Pathetica which you can pull off a shelf and put down Federal Reserve Notes for, is the most racist thing in existence?
Nope, it isn't Aunt Jemima anything.
Nope, it isn't 3 boxes of Special K.
It's a package of Banquet Brown 'n Serve.
Now you know.
Quintfecta Complete
The man was no veteran in the War of Coupons. He took his battle-hardened shopping cart, but he took his civilian daughter with him, and he had absolutely no clue.
Bang went the first coupon-- expired. Then the next volley of suck began-- must buy some $5 in produce, and his produce totaled to $3.87. He wasn't about to go get any more stuff. OK.
Then the third one-- free with purchase of something he didn't have-- the fourth one expired... and the fifth.... EXPIRED!
"Congratulations! You saved no money whatsoever! Even your Patheticard just went BEEP and sat there limply at the end of the counter, moping."
He seemed quite cheerful, and finished paying and left.
But they give no medals for stupidity in the Coupon Wars.
The Coders Are On Crystal Math
Once again the system is whack, yo. Having pointed out to us that signatures will be asked for on all plastic money transactions of $49.01 or greater (I adolescent you not), we have just been fed a bunch of cake lies, for now, for the second time in as many days, an order of $34.80 has required signature.
The brazen public seems to accept every one of these little problems as a fact of life. Does this mean that someday people will scan 15 different cards for one order and get 5 cents off, be bombarded by 27 televisions advertising all kinds of products six inches away from your nose and in 3D while you shop, and despite paying cash, have to sign the receipt, a waiver, a third document authorizing withdrawals from your bank account, and must fill out a form listing your shoe size, your height, weight and a 200-word essay on why your height and weight are bad for you?
Anyway, it has to be a coding error. I wish, oh, how I really wish the customers would refuse to sign. Just once. Because they shouldn't.
Just Take My Word For It, Don't Be Open-Minded
It happened sometime yesterday.
I couldn't close because I didn't have a closed sign, and everyone absolutely refused to acknowledge the register light had been turned off.
The last time that happened, the people who insisted on staying in line when I had told them, VERY LOUDLY, that I was closing after the person before them (who was last in line when it was time to close), were walked away from and I went home while they stayed in line waiting for me to ring them up tomorrow.
Fortunately, at the last minute, a sign turned up and I was only five minutes late for my break. (Fortunately I can get back five minutes late too, but the issue here is the timeliness of it. Anyway, all good.)
Today, I could only find ONE closed sign, so I grabbed it surreptitiously. However, right away one of my CWs started bitching about needing a closed sign even though she didn't see me pilfer it.
So, what to do? Should I have been the gentleman and proffered it? Hell no. I told the bagger where he could find the Coinstar closed sign. (Yes our Coinstar closes, otherwise there'd be coins all over the place.)
But where are they??? Why would anybody take a bunch of closed signs? Nothing else uses them in the store!
All I could think of was, because we rarely have more than two registers open, that perhaps some idiot decided only two were needed, even though it works so much better if each register gets its own.
Watch For Falling Keyboards
They've been up about a month, and already the new keyboards are falling apart. I knew they had installed them (during the last blackout, remember) far too high up, and now they are getting pounded by people who do not like to have to reach up all the time, and leaned on by people who are sick of vertical wrist action.
No fewer than two keyboards are now doing their own leaning, which would be all right except now the screen is as skewed as the savings.
I found an old Patheticard someone had left behind. (Since it's the old one, whoever's it is won't be wanting it back.) That card fits perfectly in a tiny slot under the keyboard, holding it in place! It can still wobble and lean, and to fix that I need an inch-long piece of metal to jam in another spot.
Someone call MacGuyver! Or is he still busy escaping that Turkish prison that Leslie Nielsen invited him to visit?
Was This Your Card?
Finally, the joke of the day.
Me: Hi, how's it going? (starts ringing up groc's)
He: (random polite noises)
Oh wait, the dialogue didn't really start yet. The point here was, the man was looking at me funny even though I was doing what I was supposed to do-- ring up groc's. (Yeah, I know it should be unapostrophized, otherwise it stands for "Groc is", but never mind.)
End of order came.
Me: Do you have your Patheticard?
He: Don't you want my card?
Me: (ignoring him) Do you have your-
He: (puts the card back)
Me: Um, would you like to save money today?
He: (stares at me)
Me: Patheticard?
He: (goes to pull it out of his shirt pocket) Do you need this card?
Me: If I didn't, then why did I ask for it?
He: (smiles) Do you give a senior discount?
Me: No, I haven't been in high school in years.
The Celebrated Jumping Frog Of Cook County
I swear this is true.
Rang up the very last plant from the greenhouse, which has already been disassembled, and after the order there seemed to be something about to fall into the small crack at the end of the conveyor belt. It looked like some sort of toy frog made of rubber, so I left it there, stopped the belt and finished the order.
Next order... well, this is interesting. There's a HUGE gap because the customer has started loading at the other end, which means the toy wasn't hers?
Then I looked more closely at the toy...
and I saw it breathing.
Now, this actual tiny frog had its front leg stuck in the crack, and I had no idea if it was trapped or what, but I was taking far too long and the customer started walking over to see what was the holdup. Meanwhile, I grabbed a paper towel and tried to get it off the belt.
It simply would not budge! Finally I pulled its front leg out (hoping I didn't hurt it), and it leapt about six inches down the belt, which didn't help any. Then came the inevitable-- as the customer reached the front to see what was the matter, I coaxed the frog off using the paper towel, but it jumped on the customer's arm!
"Get it off me! Aaahhhh!!!" Finally she shook her arm, and it flung the frog to under the candy display.
Afterwards, nobody believed my story whatsoever. "A frog in the store? Ridiculous!" I even told my next four or five customers to watch out so as to not run over a tiny frog, but it was gone.
After I got back from break, it turned out P. had somehow caught the frog which had moved its way towards the self-checkout. Wonder what it was going to buy? Anyway, I presume it was set free somewhere with lower prices.
Hell Spell Tells Unwell Mel
Mel (not her real name) is a nice person, one of the headicapped employees with a nice smile and demeanor. She used to date a fellow employee, but I'm not sure he was her type, because I don't think she really HAS a type; she seems to like everyone. OK. End of backstory.
During an off moment, when Mel stops bagging, she always asks personal questions of her checker (me), such as "What're you gonna have for dinner tonight?" (not asking me out, she just wants to inquire about what I usually eat) or "Do you dream about your frustrations?" (WTF?)
Yesterday, however, she started with a doozy: "So, how about that weather, huh?"
Now, I understand that erratic dialogue coming from the headicapped is to be expected and forgiven, so I do what I can to make silly answers. This time, however, is a problem, because it's a normal topic of discussion!
My response went, "Eh, 90°* isn't that hot. Tomorrow's going to get up to 100°."
"Don't say it! DON'T SAY IT!" She covered her ears. "I can't bear to hear these words."
"OK, forget I said anything. Hey, didja hear it's going up to 50° tomorrow?"
*For UK readers, I forgot how much it was in millipedes.
I Have Nothing To Offer You But Sweat, Toil, Sweat And Sweat
And it WAS 100° today. And I DID walk ten blocks to work. And I DID approach the front door, which slid open to let me in. And I DID go through the door into a nice 70° interior.
And it was ONLY THEN that I started to sweat.
Man. That cold air does it every time.
And it rained this afternoon, following a long drought of a couple of weeks. Mel didn't believe this either when I told it to her yesterday. It was the worst kind of rain-- hot rain. Always stay away from hot rain, it's bad news.
One-Question Quiz
What item in the entirety of Pathetica which you can pull off a shelf and put down Federal Reserve Notes for, is the most racist thing in existence?
Nope, it isn't Aunt Jemima anything.
Nope, it isn't 3 boxes of Special K.
It's a package of Banquet Brown 'n Serve.
Now you know.
Quintfecta Complete
The man was no veteran in the War of Coupons. He took his battle-hardened shopping cart, but he took his civilian daughter with him, and he had absolutely no clue.
Bang went the first coupon-- expired. Then the next volley of suck began-- must buy some $5 in produce, and his produce totaled to $3.87. He wasn't about to go get any more stuff. OK.
Then the third one-- free with purchase of something he didn't have-- the fourth one expired... and the fifth.... EXPIRED!
"Congratulations! You saved no money whatsoever! Even your Patheticard just went BEEP and sat there limply at the end of the counter, moping."
He seemed quite cheerful, and finished paying and left.
But they give no medals for stupidity in the Coupon Wars.
The Coders Are On Crystal Math
Once again the system is whack, yo. Having pointed out to us that signatures will be asked for on all plastic money transactions of $49.01 or greater (I adolescent you not), we have just been fed a bunch of cake lies, for now, for the second time in as many days, an order of $34.80 has required signature.
The brazen public seems to accept every one of these little problems as a fact of life. Does this mean that someday people will scan 15 different cards for one order and get 5 cents off, be bombarded by 27 televisions advertising all kinds of products six inches away from your nose and in 3D while you shop, and despite paying cash, have to sign the receipt, a waiver, a third document authorizing withdrawals from your bank account, and must fill out a form listing your shoe size, your height, weight and a 200-word essay on why your height and weight are bad for you?
Anyway, it has to be a coding error. I wish, oh, how I really wish the customers would refuse to sign. Just once. Because they shouldn't.
Just Take My Word For It, Don't Be Open-Minded
It happened sometime yesterday.
I couldn't close because I didn't have a closed sign, and everyone absolutely refused to acknowledge the register light had been turned off.
The last time that happened, the people who insisted on staying in line when I had told them, VERY LOUDLY, that I was closing after the person before them (who was last in line when it was time to close), were walked away from and I went home while they stayed in line waiting for me to ring them up tomorrow.
Fortunately, at the last minute, a sign turned up and I was only five minutes late for my break. (Fortunately I can get back five minutes late too, but the issue here is the timeliness of it. Anyway, all good.)
Today, I could only find ONE closed sign, so I grabbed it surreptitiously. However, right away one of my CWs started bitching about needing a closed sign even though she didn't see me pilfer it.
So, what to do? Should I have been the gentleman and proffered it? Hell no. I told the bagger where he could find the Coinstar closed sign. (Yes our Coinstar closes, otherwise there'd be coins all over the place.)
But where are they??? Why would anybody take a bunch of closed signs? Nothing else uses them in the store!
All I could think of was, because we rarely have more than two registers open, that perhaps some idiot decided only two were needed, even though it works so much better if each register gets its own.
Watch For Falling Keyboards
They've been up about a month, and already the new keyboards are falling apart. I knew they had installed them (during the last blackout, remember) far too high up, and now they are getting pounded by people who do not like to have to reach up all the time, and leaned on by people who are sick of vertical wrist action.
No fewer than two keyboards are now doing their own leaning, which would be all right except now the screen is as skewed as the savings.
I found an old Patheticard someone had left behind. (Since it's the old one, whoever's it is won't be wanting it back.) That card fits perfectly in a tiny slot under the keyboard, holding it in place! It can still wobble and lean, and to fix that I need an inch-long piece of metal to jam in another spot.
Someone call MacGuyver! Or is he still busy escaping that Turkish prison that Leslie Nielsen invited him to visit?
Was This Your Card?
Finally, the joke of the day.
Me: Hi, how's it going? (starts ringing up groc's)
He: (random polite noises)
Oh wait, the dialogue didn't really start yet. The point here was, the man was looking at me funny even though I was doing what I was supposed to do-- ring up groc's. (Yeah, I know it should be unapostrophized, otherwise it stands for "Groc is", but never mind.)
End of order came.
Me: Do you have your Patheticard?
He: Don't you want my card?
Me: (ignoring him) Do you have your-
He: (puts the card back)
Me: Um, would you like to save money today?
He: (stares at me)
Me: Patheticard?
He: (goes to pull it out of his shirt pocket) Do you need this card?
Me: If I didn't, then why did I ask for it?
He: (smiles) Do you give a senior discount?
Me: No, I haven't been in high school in years.
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