From this morning. Dollar General has awesome socks for 3 bucks a pair. They're AWESOME. Everyone wants them when they see them. So I have to keep getting these socks for people.
So I'm in there this morning on another sock run and the cashier is just incredulous because in the back of the store, some customer has sprawled her merchandise all over the kitchen table in the back of the store and is hanging out there for whatever reason. (they are selling the business and selling everything. Including, literally, the kitchen table. ) She was not in their kitchen, the table was out on the floor. Evidently there was a "sold" sign on the table and this cashier was about to crap a cinder block because this chick was sitting at the table.
I mean, on and on she went. To me. "How can she not see the sold sign? Why is she got her stuff strewn all over it! Someone bought that, why is she back there???"
I'm thinking, Jeeze, lady, it ain't like she's back there carving her name in the damn thing. Ring me up, already. I'm making polite noises like, "Oh, well, I don't know, maybe she's looking for something in her purse." and "people don't really notice signs much." and stuff like that, but what I"m thinking is how much I'd like to get my crap and go. And on and on she went until it got downright weird. And then someone came to make change and she got all flustered, like she forgot what she was doing. The whole time kvetching without a break about the chick at the table.
The words "Are you fucking high?" started to percolate up my throat, but I bit them back and didn't say it.
Finally, FINALLY, in a flurry of disorganization and airheadedness that would have made a Shaggy and Scooby proud, she managed to get me rung up.
So I'm in there this morning on another sock run and the cashier is just incredulous because in the back of the store, some customer has sprawled her merchandise all over the kitchen table in the back of the store and is hanging out there for whatever reason. (they are selling the business and selling everything. Including, literally, the kitchen table. ) She was not in their kitchen, the table was out on the floor. Evidently there was a "sold" sign on the table and this cashier was about to crap a cinder block because this chick was sitting at the table.
I mean, on and on she went. To me. "How can she not see the sold sign? Why is she got her stuff strewn all over it! Someone bought that, why is she back there???"
I'm thinking, Jeeze, lady, it ain't like she's back there carving her name in the damn thing. Ring me up, already. I'm making polite noises like, "Oh, well, I don't know, maybe she's looking for something in her purse." and "people don't really notice signs much." and stuff like that, but what I"m thinking is how much I'd like to get my crap and go. And on and on she went until it got downright weird. And then someone came to make change and she got all flustered, like she forgot what she was doing. The whole time kvetching without a break about the chick at the table.
The words "Are you fucking high?" started to percolate up my throat, but I bit them back and didn't say it.
Finally, FINALLY, in a flurry of disorganization and airheadedness that would have made a Shaggy and Scooby proud, she managed to get me rung up.
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