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Inspired by Icey's thread, a few stories of my own...
"OMG! I JUST SAW A HOT GUY WALK BY!"
One day after I had just started working at <former workplace>, I was assigned as a runner. This meant my job duties included cleaning extra-large gallon jugs of wine that SC's smashed to smithereens in far off corners of the store without telling us, fetching new extra-large gallon jugs of wine for SC's that decided to send them crashing to the ground when they got mad at their cashier, running damaged merchandise, doing restroom checks, helping nice customers to their cars with their groceries, etc.
This was way before the Justin Bieber craze, but I'll be danged if this girl didn't think I was his first coming...or something like that. I was walking by the pet cases on the way to the back room, and I hear the loudest scream I have yet to hear.
EG: Excited Girl
EM: Her Embarrassed Mom
BC: Bystanding Customer
Me:
EG: [screams with joy] "OMG! I JUST SAW A HOT GUY WALK BY! WILL YOU HELP US?! CAN I HAVE YOUR NUMBER?!"
EM: *facepalm*
BC: [watching this all take place]
At this point, I'm just trying to keep a straight face. I mean, dear Lord, I won't lie. If I had to judge my appearance for you, I would probably describe myself as the male version of Medusa with bad hair, bad teeth, and one of the worst complexions known to man. Or woman. Or beast. Whatever floats your boat. Anyway...
Me: "I'll tell my girlfriend about this! She'll be proud! I'll go ahead and page someone who's authorized to unlock these cases for you ladies."
EG: "BUT I'M BETTER THAN HER!"
One of us was bluffing. I'm certain it wasn't her. What was I bluffing about? Well, I had to explain to several people later that night why I was holding back laughter as I paged for help!
"Wanna become a man?"
One can only guess why the drunk/high types and screamers are attracted to me. Maybe I had a "SCREAM AT ME!" sign on my back for the entire duration of my employment at <former workplace>. Hmm.
This occurred right around the time as Story 1. I had just started at <former workplace>, and it was nearing the end of my shift. As is customary for the job I was doing that night, I grabbed a dustpan and broom out of the janitorial closet and made my way outside to sweep around both entryways and the parking lot in front of the entryways.
As I left the entryway and proceeded out to the grocery parking lot, three girls in a mid-size SUV began yelling at me. Well, one of them, anyway. We'll call her "random parking lot girl".
"Hey! Hey, you! Wanna become a man?"
This seemed like it would be an interesting group of girls to talk to. I stood next to their SUV and listened to them ramble on. Yes. They rambled. And rambled. And rambled...until the one who yelled at me handed me her number. Which I promptly dropped onto the ground and swept up with my broom.
You see, some at the ripe young age of 16 (at the time) would have taken random parking lot girl up on the offer of "becoming a man". Me? Well, I reviewed her...*ahem*...employment offer and found the sweeping thing I was doing at the time had better benefits than the job she offered me (if you catch my drift).
Turns out I was right. Random parking lot girl actually had a name. She was in one of my college classes about a year ago. She currently has three kids with a fourth on the way and is collecting child support from each of the first three's daddies.
Words cannot express how sad I am that I threw that number away. Not!
The Saga of "E" Pole
Finally, here's one from my final days of being a cart slave.
First, here's some backstory. At <former workplace>, there are several light poles scattered about the parking lot. Each light pole is labeled with a letter A-I. This is supposedly to make it more convenient for customers to remember where they parked. For us cart slaves, it was a way to keep track of where interesting things went on in the lot.
Anywho, I'm out cart slaving away one sultry night when I hear roaring. Well, moaning, actually. Lots and lots of moaning. I observed my surroundings. At first, I looked under the cars next to me thinking a stray cat had wandered into our parking lot to have kittens. After all, it had happened about a year prior.
That is when I discovered the real source of the moaning coming from "E" pole. It was a cat, all right--but not that kind of cat!
I picked up my cell phone because I didn't have a company phone on me and called the inter-store phone tree, which I then used to call my boss. We'll call her Colleen. I described to her the situation as best as I knew how.
Me: "Uh, Colleen...I know we're not supposed to be calling you on our cell phones on the clock, and I don't really know how to say this, but there are two bikers next to 'E' pole, and..."
C: "Oh, my GOD! I'll be out there in a minute!"
It was like a train wreck--what was going on was really, really ugly, but you just couldn't help but watch. In the background of this scene was the entry to the non-grocery side of the store. I noticed a few of my other CW's running out the doors just to see if what I had reported was actually going on. As they placed their eyes on the scene, they expressed a look of awe, followed by the stifling of laughter. Not too long after this, Colleen came out, and the bikers left.
Later on, I asked Colleen what she said to these two bikers that caused them to leave so fast. This is somewhat how it went:
C: "Well, I told them there was only room for one pole in that area of the lot, and that's 'E' pole. Then, I told them that the male biker was turning on our LP guy. That got rid of 'em real quick!"
I LOL'd the rest of the night, and every time I went to fetch the mounds of carts that always accumulated next to "E" pole, I remembered what Colleen had said and laughed a little.
"OMG! I JUST SAW A HOT GUY WALK BY!"
One day after I had just started working at <former workplace>, I was assigned as a runner. This meant my job duties included cleaning extra-large gallon jugs of wine that SC's smashed to smithereens in far off corners of the store without telling us, fetching new extra-large gallon jugs of wine for SC's that decided to send them crashing to the ground when they got mad at their cashier, running damaged merchandise, doing restroom checks, helping nice customers to their cars with their groceries, etc.
This was way before the Justin Bieber craze, but I'll be danged if this girl didn't think I was his first coming...or something like that. I was walking by the pet cases on the way to the back room, and I hear the loudest scream I have yet to hear.
EG: Excited Girl
EM: Her Embarrassed Mom
BC: Bystanding Customer
Me:
EG: [screams with joy] "OMG! I JUST SAW A HOT GUY WALK BY! WILL YOU HELP US?! CAN I HAVE YOUR NUMBER?!"
EM: *facepalm*
BC: [watching this all take place]
At this point, I'm just trying to keep a straight face. I mean, dear Lord, I won't lie. If I had to judge my appearance for you, I would probably describe myself as the male version of Medusa with bad hair, bad teeth, and one of the worst complexions known to man. Or woman. Or beast. Whatever floats your boat. Anyway...
Me: "I'll tell my girlfriend about this! She'll be proud! I'll go ahead and page someone who's authorized to unlock these cases for you ladies."
EG: "BUT I'M BETTER THAN HER!"
One of us was bluffing. I'm certain it wasn't her. What was I bluffing about? Well, I had to explain to several people later that night why I was holding back laughter as I paged for help!
"Wanna become a man?"
One can only guess why the drunk/high types and screamers are attracted to me. Maybe I had a "SCREAM AT ME!" sign on my back for the entire duration of my employment at <former workplace>. Hmm.
This occurred right around the time as Story 1. I had just started at <former workplace>, and it was nearing the end of my shift. As is customary for the job I was doing that night, I grabbed a dustpan and broom out of the janitorial closet and made my way outside to sweep around both entryways and the parking lot in front of the entryways.
As I left the entryway and proceeded out to the grocery parking lot, three girls in a mid-size SUV began yelling at me. Well, one of them, anyway. We'll call her "random parking lot girl".
"Hey! Hey, you! Wanna become a man?"
This seemed like it would be an interesting group of girls to talk to. I stood next to their SUV and listened to them ramble on. Yes. They rambled. And rambled. And rambled...until the one who yelled at me handed me her number. Which I promptly dropped onto the ground and swept up with my broom.
You see, some at the ripe young age of 16 (at the time) would have taken random parking lot girl up on the offer of "becoming a man". Me? Well, I reviewed her...*ahem*...employment offer and found the sweeping thing I was doing at the time had better benefits than the job she offered me (if you catch my drift).
Turns out I was right. Random parking lot girl actually had a name. She was in one of my college classes about a year ago. She currently has three kids with a fourth on the way and is collecting child support from each of the first three's daddies.
Words cannot express how sad I am that I threw that number away. Not!
The Saga of "E" Pole
Finally, here's one from my final days of being a cart slave.
First, here's some backstory. At <former workplace>, there are several light poles scattered about the parking lot. Each light pole is labeled with a letter A-I. This is supposedly to make it more convenient for customers to remember where they parked. For us cart slaves, it was a way to keep track of where interesting things went on in the lot.
Anywho, I'm out cart slaving away one sultry night when I hear roaring. Well, moaning, actually. Lots and lots of moaning. I observed my surroundings. At first, I looked under the cars next to me thinking a stray cat had wandered into our parking lot to have kittens. After all, it had happened about a year prior.
That is when I discovered the real source of the moaning coming from "E" pole. It was a cat, all right--but not that kind of cat!
I picked up my cell phone because I didn't have a company phone on me and called the inter-store phone tree, which I then used to call my boss. We'll call her Colleen. I described to her the situation as best as I knew how.
Me: "Uh, Colleen...I know we're not supposed to be calling you on our cell phones on the clock, and I don't really know how to say this, but there are two bikers next to 'E' pole, and..."
C: "Oh, my GOD! I'll be out there in a minute!"
It was like a train wreck--what was going on was really, really ugly, but you just couldn't help but watch. In the background of this scene was the entry to the non-grocery side of the store. I noticed a few of my other CW's running out the doors just to see if what I had reported was actually going on. As they placed their eyes on the scene, they expressed a look of awe, followed by the stifling of laughter. Not too long after this, Colleen came out, and the bikers left.
Later on, I asked Colleen what she said to these two bikers that caused them to leave so fast. This is somewhat how it went:
C: "Well, I told them there was only room for one pole in that area of the lot, and that's 'E' pole. Then, I told them that the male biker was turning on our LP guy. That got rid of 'em real quick!"
I LOL'd the rest of the night, and every time I went to fetch the mounds of carts that always accumulated next to "E" pole, I remembered what Colleen had said and laughed a little.
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