Uber-Rich SC's

[Jester]

I can kind of see where management is coming from.

I can even see where the SC is coming from with his card out immediately. After all, if you know you are going to get such great treatment for it, why not?

What I CAN'T see is what the HELL this guy is doing returing a leaf blower, getting a new leaf blower, and getting a tractor....while he is wearing a tuxedo!!!!!

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, indeed!

[Discourtesy Clerk]

I ran into my first memorable Rich Bitch SC within a week of starting my current job. I was pushing carts in the parking lot, approaching one of the corrals, next to which was parked an extremely nice convertible sportscar. In the passenger seat of this sportscar was...well, I believe the term is "bluehair". She was dressed out in a classy business suit, copious red lipstick, dripping in jewelry that looked quite real, you get the idea. Loaded.

Anyway, the rule is that if you see trash in a cart you're getting, you have to throw it away. Apparently, the RBSC saw me retrieving trash from a cart, and decided that I must be Garbage Slave.

She leans over the door as I'm passing by, says "Oh, you're collecting trash? Well then, you can throw this away for me," places the object in my hand, and smiles widely.

Bad enough? Well...the "this" was a well used snotrag. Yes, that's right, she placed her bogie filled tissue in my hand, fully expecting me to accept it graciously. How I knew it was bogie-filled? I saw the bogies.

I dropped it like a hot potato into the cart I was pushing (she couldn't just have put it into the cart herself?), and sped away at the fastest power-walk I could muster. Had I not been so new, I would have told her off - she wasn't even technically a customer, just an old yuppie queen waiting outside for the actual driver of the dream machine she was sitting in. She tries that again, she's getting the wrath of a seasoned courtesy clerk who's no longer on 60-day probation.

[protege]

One of my paper route customers tried to get me into trouble for parking my wagon in front of his house. Granted, the 1970s Radio-Flyer I was using wasn't in the best of shape (by then, it had probably been driven around the earth 52 times, was painted green/orange/silver in an effort to hide the rust, and was literally held together with duct tape and bailing wire), but who was he to complain? It was on a public street, dammit! I think he was a bit nervous of the "rust bug" infecting the Maserati that was supposedly his son's car. Keep in mind that said son was *never* there, yet the car was. Maybe he was hiding from the IRS?

Anyway, the guy did call the newspaper to complain..only for them to laugh him off the phone