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Didn't happen at work. It still counts.
It was laundry day, and all I had to wear for clothes was, of course, my work uniform. And I /had/ to go shopping. Out of Kraft Dinner and Ramen, the staples of my continued existence. So I uniform up, hop the next bus, and head to Wal-Mart. I've been there not even five minutes, when, while I am surveying the lovely array of hot-dogs, when someone walks up to me and asks "Do you happen to know where the Pringles are?"
Being a nice person, of course, I direct her to where I'm relatively certain they are, and continue with my shopping. A scant few moments later, she comes storming up to me and starts venting about how the Pringles weren't there, how useless I was, etc, etc.
Now, I'm utterly used to taking this at my job, but I was /shopping/, for pity's sake. However, yelling is not a thing I am good at, so I calmly tell her, "Ma'am, I'm trying to do my shopping. If you would like, I can help you find an employee who can help you find what you want?"
And I am completely shocked when I'm met with, "WHO THE SMURF DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, KID?! I AM A GODSMURFED CUSTOMER, AND I WILL SMURF WELL HAVE YOUR SMURFING RESPECT, OR I'LL HAVE YOUR SMURFING /HEAD/!"
"I apologize, ma'am, but.. You are not /my/ customer, I do not work here, and I do not appreciate this."
By this point, a Wal-Mart employee, who happens to be one of my friends, is standing there, watching and attempting to signal to me her willingness to deal with this customer, but I'd rather not have put this ill-bred sod upon my poor minimum-wage compatriot's shoulders, and so I shoo'd her back, whereupon the woman, assuming I was waving /her/ away, erupted like unto St. Helens;
"DO I LOOK LIKE A GIVE A FLYING SMURF WHERE YOU SMURFING WORK, YOU SMURF SMURF SMURFITTY SMURFING PUNK?! YOU SMURFING WORK SMURFING /SOMEWHERE/, AND I'M A SMURFING CUSTOMER, SO NO SMURFING MATTER WHERE THE SMURF YOU ARE, IT'S YOUR SMURFING JOB TO SMURF SMURFING HELP ME, SMURFING GOT IT, SMURFHEAD? YOU SEE THAT SMURFING UNIFORM YOU'RE SMURFING WEARING? IT SMURFING MEANS YOU'RE A PUBLIC SMURFING SERVANT AND YOU CAN SMURFING SERVE ME EVEN IF I'M TOO SMURFING GOOD TO GO TO YOUR SMURFING LITTLE CORNER STATION AND COME SMURFING HERE INSTEAD? HOW SMURFING /DARE/ YOU SMURFING TRY TO WAVE ME AWAY?"
As she continues ranting and raving, I gesture to my friend to get away, do a smart about face, and walk out of the aisle. However, the woman follows me, until around the part where I get to the bicycle area, at which point I turn to her and tell her to, "Please, kindly shut your endlessly flowing facial rectum, I swear you're clogging my ears with your verbal diarrhoea."
At which she turns beet red, rears back, and attempts to kick me in the, er, nether regions. Of course, having been raised with a pair of brothers and a sister, and having a best friend who knows karate, I have finely honed escape reflexes for just such occasions, i.e., pirouetting to the side, grabbing her flying ankle, and wrenching it sideways. And, in a hopeful attempt to assure that there would be no further harassment, I told her "You've attempted to assault me. You know, I now have legal grounds to respond with /lethal/ force. Be glad I have a sense of humour, and chivalry, and choose not to do so. I advise you stay put."
As I spin around to leave the store, my shopping day ruined, I hear, to my absolute amazement, an angry "I'M NOT SMURFING FINISHED WITH YOU YET, SMURFHOLE!"
"Ugh, you people never learn. Fine."
And so I physically lift her up (She was only about 5'6", thin as a board, maybe 20 years old, plenty small for me to hoist :P) and place her on the highest shelf on the bike accessories rack, perhaps four feet in the air. "Perhaps if you ask nicely, one of the employees who /work/ here will get you a ladder. Oh, and I wouldn't advise pressing charges against me. You see that black ball up there? Security camera. They watched you kick at me. Au reviour, mon cerise mal."
According to my friend, who'd been watching from a distance and called me as soon as she got off shift, a few associates had heard what was going on and advised the others to stay away for a bit. Poor woman was up there for nigh twenty minutes before anyone bothered to get her down. Think she's learned her lesson, CS?
It was laundry day, and all I had to wear for clothes was, of course, my work uniform. And I /had/ to go shopping. Out of Kraft Dinner and Ramen, the staples of my continued existence. So I uniform up, hop the next bus, and head to Wal-Mart. I've been there not even five minutes, when, while I am surveying the lovely array of hot-dogs, when someone walks up to me and asks "Do you happen to know where the Pringles are?"
Being a nice person, of course, I direct her to where I'm relatively certain they are, and continue with my shopping. A scant few moments later, she comes storming up to me and starts venting about how the Pringles weren't there, how useless I was, etc, etc.
Now, I'm utterly used to taking this at my job, but I was /shopping/, for pity's sake. However, yelling is not a thing I am good at, so I calmly tell her, "Ma'am, I'm trying to do my shopping. If you would like, I can help you find an employee who can help you find what you want?"
And I am completely shocked when I'm met with, "WHO THE SMURF DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, KID?! I AM A GODSMURFED CUSTOMER, AND I WILL SMURF WELL HAVE YOUR SMURFING RESPECT, OR I'LL HAVE YOUR SMURFING /HEAD/!"
"I apologize, ma'am, but.. You are not /my/ customer, I do not work here, and I do not appreciate this."
By this point, a Wal-Mart employee, who happens to be one of my friends, is standing there, watching and attempting to signal to me her willingness to deal with this customer, but I'd rather not have put this ill-bred sod upon my poor minimum-wage compatriot's shoulders, and so I shoo'd her back, whereupon the woman, assuming I was waving /her/ away, erupted like unto St. Helens;
"DO I LOOK LIKE A GIVE A FLYING SMURF WHERE YOU SMURFING WORK, YOU SMURF SMURF SMURFITTY SMURFING PUNK?! YOU SMURFING WORK SMURFING /SOMEWHERE/, AND I'M A SMURFING CUSTOMER, SO NO SMURFING MATTER WHERE THE SMURF YOU ARE, IT'S YOUR SMURFING JOB TO SMURF SMURFING HELP ME, SMURFING GOT IT, SMURFHEAD? YOU SEE THAT SMURFING UNIFORM YOU'RE SMURFING WEARING? IT SMURFING MEANS YOU'RE A PUBLIC SMURFING SERVANT AND YOU CAN SMURFING SERVE ME EVEN IF I'M TOO SMURFING GOOD TO GO TO YOUR SMURFING LITTLE CORNER STATION AND COME SMURFING HERE INSTEAD? HOW SMURFING /DARE/ YOU SMURFING TRY TO WAVE ME AWAY?"
As she continues ranting and raving, I gesture to my friend to get away, do a smart about face, and walk out of the aisle. However, the woman follows me, until around the part where I get to the bicycle area, at which point I turn to her and tell her to, "Please, kindly shut your endlessly flowing facial rectum, I swear you're clogging my ears with your verbal diarrhoea."
At which she turns beet red, rears back, and attempts to kick me in the, er, nether regions. Of course, having been raised with a pair of brothers and a sister, and having a best friend who knows karate, I have finely honed escape reflexes for just such occasions, i.e., pirouetting to the side, grabbing her flying ankle, and wrenching it sideways. And, in a hopeful attempt to assure that there would be no further harassment, I told her "You've attempted to assault me. You know, I now have legal grounds to respond with /lethal/ force. Be glad I have a sense of humour, and chivalry, and choose not to do so. I advise you stay put."
As I spin around to leave the store, my shopping day ruined, I hear, to my absolute amazement, an angry "I'M NOT SMURFING FINISHED WITH YOU YET, SMURFHOLE!"
"Ugh, you people never learn. Fine."
And so I physically lift her up (She was only about 5'6", thin as a board, maybe 20 years old, plenty small for me to hoist :P) and place her on the highest shelf on the bike accessories rack, perhaps four feet in the air. "Perhaps if you ask nicely, one of the employees who /work/ here will get you a ladder. Oh, and I wouldn't advise pressing charges against me. You see that black ball up there? Security camera. They watched you kick at me. Au reviour, mon cerise mal."
According to my friend, who'd been watching from a distance and called me as soon as she got off shift, a few associates had heard what was going on and advised the others to stay away for a bit. Poor woman was up there for nigh twenty minutes before anyone bothered to get her down. Think she's learned her lesson, CS?
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