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I swear, they're out in en masse today.
I had to make a trip up to the NEX, which I hate doing, for reasons which have to do with the obvious over-pricing of Italian products which can be found on the market if one only takes the time to go off-base, and because the people there are such self-entitled freaks. Yes, FREAKS.
From the minute I walked in, I knew it was going to happen. I wasn't sure what "it" was, but "it" was coming.
Scenario #1:
A man and his wife were walking two-abreast down an aisle I had entered. The man was carrying a handbasket.
The woman saw me coming, politely moved aside (in front of her husband) and we both sort of exchanged nods.
Her husband moved toward the center of the aisle as I passed and swung his basket at me. YEAH. I jumped out of the way, landing against the shelving, and made a yelping noise.
Asshole chuckled and walked away; his wife didn't even look back.
Why?!
Scenario #2:
As I was recovering from Basket Man, I decide to go look around the giftwrap section for some treat bags I've been needing. As I wander, an older woman with a cart starts to follow me.
I go down one aisle. I go up another. Yes, she's definitely following me.
Every time I stopped, she just about crashed her cart into me. By this point, she's starting to scare the shit out of me, what with her stalker-like behaviour.
Finally, I get to the beauty care aisle, and she comes around from the other side and cuts me off...and asks me where the Olay products are.
Mind you, I'm wearing flip-flops, ratty jeans, a beach hoodie, sunglasses, and a tank top. I'm carrying a bookbag and my iPod earbuds are dangling over my shoulder. I am NOT wearing a uniform, closed-toe shoes, or, most importantly, a NAMETAG. I'm not carrying a box of store stock. I definitely don't work for the NEX.
Maybe it was a bit rude of me, but I shot her this, "A-buh?" glance and walked away. I've seen enough on Customers Suck to know not to allow myself to get dragged into THAT conversation.
Scenario #3:
Cheerful Register Jockey bids welcome to Unhappy Customer. Unhappy Customer remains silent. Cheerful Register Jockey rings up purchases, relays total. Unhappy Customer THROWS MONEY at Cheerful Register Jockey. Cheerful Register Jockey left in state of utter confusion and shattered dreams of peace and joy as Unhappy Customer storms off.
Scenario #4:
In letter format!
Dear You,
And by "you", I mean the local wag who wrote, "This is the color of shit! Aha!" in brown marker on the walls of the bathroom...
Well, aren't you clever?
Praying you've graduated from or failed out of whatever school taught you to identify your colors by comparing them to feces,
- Moxi
PS - Aha? Seriously? As in "Eureka"? It's like you've discovered some fundamental secret of the universe in that one comparison. Maybe I need to experiment with brown markers more often.
...I need a drink.
I had to make a trip up to the NEX, which I hate doing, for reasons which have to do with the obvious over-pricing of Italian products which can be found on the market if one only takes the time to go off-base, and because the people there are such self-entitled freaks. Yes, FREAKS.
From the minute I walked in, I knew it was going to happen. I wasn't sure what "it" was, but "it" was coming.
Scenario #1:
A man and his wife were walking two-abreast down an aisle I had entered. The man was carrying a handbasket.
The woman saw me coming, politely moved aside (in front of her husband) and we both sort of exchanged nods.
Her husband moved toward the center of the aisle as I passed and swung his basket at me. YEAH. I jumped out of the way, landing against the shelving, and made a yelping noise.
Asshole chuckled and walked away; his wife didn't even look back.
Why?!
Scenario #2:
As I was recovering from Basket Man, I decide to go look around the giftwrap section for some treat bags I've been needing. As I wander, an older woman with a cart starts to follow me.
I go down one aisle. I go up another. Yes, she's definitely following me.
Every time I stopped, she just about crashed her cart into me. By this point, she's starting to scare the shit out of me, what with her stalker-like behaviour.
Finally, I get to the beauty care aisle, and she comes around from the other side and cuts me off...and asks me where the Olay products are.
Mind you, I'm wearing flip-flops, ratty jeans, a beach hoodie, sunglasses, and a tank top. I'm carrying a bookbag and my iPod earbuds are dangling over my shoulder. I am NOT wearing a uniform, closed-toe shoes, or, most importantly, a NAMETAG. I'm not carrying a box of store stock. I definitely don't work for the NEX.
Maybe it was a bit rude of me, but I shot her this, "A-buh?" glance and walked away. I've seen enough on Customers Suck to know not to allow myself to get dragged into THAT conversation.
Scenario #3:
Cheerful Register Jockey bids welcome to Unhappy Customer. Unhappy Customer remains silent. Cheerful Register Jockey rings up purchases, relays total. Unhappy Customer THROWS MONEY at Cheerful Register Jockey. Cheerful Register Jockey left in state of utter confusion and shattered dreams of peace and joy as Unhappy Customer storms off.
Scenario #4:
In letter format!
Dear You,
And by "you", I mean the local wag who wrote, "This is the color of shit! Aha!" in brown marker on the walls of the bathroom...
Well, aren't you clever?
Praying you've graduated from or failed out of whatever school taught you to identify your colors by comparing them to feces,
- Moxi
PS - Aha? Seriously? As in "Eureka"? It's like you've discovered some fundamental secret of the universe in that one comparison. Maybe I need to experiment with brown markers more often.
...I need a drink.
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