Tweet
Dear Horrible Old Misery
You came in on the tail end of what was actually me commiserating with a woman about how our displays were placed just right so that her children could grab all the things. You heard "It's a terrible piece of marketing on our part". What you either didn't eavesdrop on, or chose to ignore, was that the customer before you started the conversation, and my comments were merely agreeing with her.
You saw me making a face at my coworker, because he walked away from the counter (for a good reason) leaving me with a large queue of customers. What you chose to ignore was the way we both broke into giggles straight afterwards - because this is a running joke with us.
You: You look like you don't like your job. -in a very confrontational tone-
Me: I like my job fine, I just like it better when I have help to do it. -mildly, because I don't sweat assholes like you-
You: We don't want to listen to your moaning.
Me: -shuts up-
You specifically said you didn't want to hear from me. I stopped talking, apart from the necessary. It was obvious from your demeanor that my usual jovial jokes and slight silliness weren't going to fly with you, so I spared you.
You: You could crack a smile, you know.
And have you accuse me of smirking at you? Fifteen years in customer service has taught me that I can't win with assholes like you, and the best I can hope for is to finish the transaction quickly so you fuck off all the quicker.
You: You know if you don't like your job you should just quit.
You: It could be worse, you know. You could have cancer like me.
Me: ...
Me: What do you want me to say to that? -kind of furious, but hiding it moderately well-
You know what? Fuck you, lady. I didn't give you cancer. I didn't give you your bad attitude. You came in here LOOKING for a fight, and it sucks for you that I'm too old and too experienced to give you one. At the risk of sounding incredibly insensitive, I'd posit that your extreme bitterness and general horribleness might have had something to do with your mood and your predicament. But I'm not stupid enough to have said so. Your cancer has nothing to do with this transaction. Nothing. You bringing it up doesn't make me look insensitive, it makes you look like a pile of human garbage who WANTS to make the cashier uncomfortable/upset. I served you politely, if coldly. You left.
Had this incident occurred ten years ago, I know it would have gone one of two ways. Either I would have burst into tears, or I would have fought back and argued with you. But I am ten years older now. At thirty, I don't crumble nearly as easily as I used to. At thirty, I have a much better handle on my mouth than I used to. And so the fight you were looking for, you didn't get. I win.
And for the record, the customers after you thought you were a nasty piece of work and I was a fucking delight, you horrible old misery.
You came in on the tail end of what was actually me commiserating with a woman about how our displays were placed just right so that her children could grab all the things. You heard "It's a terrible piece of marketing on our part". What you either didn't eavesdrop on, or chose to ignore, was that the customer before you started the conversation, and my comments were merely agreeing with her.
You saw me making a face at my coworker, because he walked away from the counter (for a good reason) leaving me with a large queue of customers. What you chose to ignore was the way we both broke into giggles straight afterwards - because this is a running joke with us.
You: You look like you don't like your job. -in a very confrontational tone-
Me: I like my job fine, I just like it better when I have help to do it. -mildly, because I don't sweat assholes like you-
You: We don't want to listen to your moaning.
Me: -shuts up-
You specifically said you didn't want to hear from me. I stopped talking, apart from the necessary. It was obvious from your demeanor that my usual jovial jokes and slight silliness weren't going to fly with you, so I spared you.
You: You could crack a smile, you know.
And have you accuse me of smirking at you? Fifteen years in customer service has taught me that I can't win with assholes like you, and the best I can hope for is to finish the transaction quickly so you fuck off all the quicker.
You: You know if you don't like your job you should just quit.
You: It could be worse, you know. You could have cancer like me.
Me: ...
Me: What do you want me to say to that? -kind of furious, but hiding it moderately well-
You know what? Fuck you, lady. I didn't give you cancer. I didn't give you your bad attitude. You came in here LOOKING for a fight, and it sucks for you that I'm too old and too experienced to give you one. At the risk of sounding incredibly insensitive, I'd posit that your extreme bitterness and general horribleness might have had something to do with your mood and your predicament. But I'm not stupid enough to have said so. Your cancer has nothing to do with this transaction. Nothing. You bringing it up doesn't make me look insensitive, it makes you look like a pile of human garbage who WANTS to make the cashier uncomfortable/upset. I served you politely, if coldly. You left.
Had this incident occurred ten years ago, I know it would have gone one of two ways. Either I would have burst into tears, or I would have fought back and argued with you. But I am ten years older now. At thirty, I don't crumble nearly as easily as I used to. At thirty, I have a much better handle on my mouth than I used to. And so the fight you were looking for, you didn't get. I win.
And for the record, the customers after you thought you were a nasty piece of work and I was a fucking delight, you horrible old misery.
Merry Christmas!
Comment