Note--to any Hot Wheels collectors that may be here, sorry for what I'm about to say, but I gotta say it, dammit.
I am fed up with our local Hot Wheels geeks. They treat our toy department like their own private playground. Or something.
The one I see the most often is this older guy, probably retired if he can be in the store shortly after it opens Every. Single. Fuck. Ing. DAY. Always heads straight for the Hot Wheels.
God help you if you're stocking toys off a truck, which most trucks I am. He'll get right up behind you, in that old stinky jacket of his that has to have been marinating in cigarette smoke and old-man smell for years. He's got no concept of personal space, so as an added bonus you get his stanky, coffee and cigarette breath on your neck as well.
Today, I noticed that a box of hot wheels cars came in so I concealed it in the pallets behind some other boxes. Then it got filled and put on the backstock cart before he came in, so I concealed some more. I had stuff on top of the box and all the other sides of it. Ha ha, let's see the old man try to get his fix now.
Right on cue, Hot Wheels Guy came down the aisle, I went to fill some more toys and WAIT A SECOND IS HE DIGGING THROUGH MY CART OF BACKSTOCK?! FUCKING WEAK.
Then he went digging through the box of Hot Wheels with those grubby paws of his, excitedly exclaiming how Wally World hadn't gotten in any new shipments of Hot Wheels in months, and then finally he found the one car he wanted and happily gallivanted off.
WITHOUT PUTTING THE REST OF THE HOT WHEELS CARS BACK INTO THE BOX. CURSES. FOILED BY SOME DIRTY, NO-LIFE HAVING, PERSONAL SPACE INVADING CHILDRENS' TOY CAR DORK.
At least he's generally pleasant to deal with. The other hot wheels guy we know of is a complete prick. He won't ask you to bring down boxes of hot wheels as much as tell you to. Management has told us not to do this. Yet he'll try to convince you that the managers said it's okay for the hot wheels boxes to be brought down so he can have his own little treasure hunt. Sadly he's suckered newbies into doing it.
And if you tell him we don't have hot wheels in backstock, which is usually a lie but we're not going to cater to his whims, he hollers "I don't believe you! I know you have hot wheels back there!"
Get the two of them together and they'll go racing down the aisles to toys and squabble over the more choice cars.
So, to the both of you hot wheels imbeciles:
I hope you're walking along at home, and your foot comes down on one of your little cars on the floor, and you go skating around waving your arms and going "Whoa-o-o-o-o-oa-oaaaaaa!" while flailing your arms in a comical manner, and you fall down the stairs, and continue to tumble down stairs and crash through walls like Oscar The Grouch in that one Sesame Street Christmas special, and when you land you land right on a piece of plastic racing track for your precious little metal cars, and it stabs you right through the heart and turns you and your Hot Wheels cars into a big bloody mess and you go to Hell. You go to Hell and you die.
pant pant pant...wheeze wheeze wheeze
I am fed up with our local Hot Wheels geeks. They treat our toy department like their own private playground. Or something.
The one I see the most often is this older guy, probably retired if he can be in the store shortly after it opens Every. Single. Fuck. Ing. DAY. Always heads straight for the Hot Wheels.
God help you if you're stocking toys off a truck, which most trucks I am. He'll get right up behind you, in that old stinky jacket of his that has to have been marinating in cigarette smoke and old-man smell for years. He's got no concept of personal space, so as an added bonus you get his stanky, coffee and cigarette breath on your neck as well.
Today, I noticed that a box of hot wheels cars came in so I concealed it in the pallets behind some other boxes. Then it got filled and put on the backstock cart before he came in, so I concealed some more. I had stuff on top of the box and all the other sides of it. Ha ha, let's see the old man try to get his fix now.

Right on cue, Hot Wheels Guy came down the aisle, I went to fill some more toys and WAIT A SECOND IS HE DIGGING THROUGH MY CART OF BACKSTOCK?! FUCKING WEAK.
Then he went digging through the box of Hot Wheels with those grubby paws of his, excitedly exclaiming how Wally World hadn't gotten in any new shipments of Hot Wheels in months, and then finally he found the one car he wanted and happily gallivanted off.
WITHOUT PUTTING THE REST OF THE HOT WHEELS CARS BACK INTO THE BOX. CURSES. FOILED BY SOME DIRTY, NO-LIFE HAVING, PERSONAL SPACE INVADING CHILDRENS' TOY CAR DORK.
At least he's generally pleasant to deal with. The other hot wheels guy we know of is a complete prick. He won't ask you to bring down boxes of hot wheels as much as tell you to. Management has told us not to do this. Yet he'll try to convince you that the managers said it's okay for the hot wheels boxes to be brought down so he can have his own little treasure hunt. Sadly he's suckered newbies into doing it.
And if you tell him we don't have hot wheels in backstock, which is usually a lie but we're not going to cater to his whims, he hollers "I don't believe you! I know you have hot wheels back there!"
Get the two of them together and they'll go racing down the aisles to toys and squabble over the more choice cars.

So, to the both of you hot wheels imbeciles:
I hope you're walking along at home, and your foot comes down on one of your little cars on the floor, and you go skating around waving your arms and going "Whoa-o-o-o-o-oa-oaaaaaa!" while flailing your arms in a comical manner, and you fall down the stairs, and continue to tumble down stairs and crash through walls like Oscar The Grouch in that one Sesame Street Christmas special, and when you land you land right on a piece of plastic racing track for your precious little metal cars, and it stabs you right through the heart and turns you and your Hot Wheels cars into a big bloody mess and you go to Hell. You go to Hell and you die.
pant pant pant...wheeze wheeze wheeze
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