So last night I'm up at the register watching the clock tick off the final minutes of my shift when a regular customer comes in. A regular Grade A Douchebag. I dread seeing this guy because it's just never a pleasant experience. After awhile I see him coming up and I'm hoping that he's heading out the door. No such luck.
Douchebag: (slamming his Dr. Scholl's shoe inserts and razors on my counter) I HATE when things get moved around.
Me: (Please just go away.)
DB: It's not your fault.
Me: (Ya think?)
I finish up the transaction and send Douchebag back into the night. Another customer came up soon after this guy and saw his outburst. Once the doors were safely closed I finally opened my mouth.
Me: The funny part is the stuff he was buying was moved over a year ago.
Nice Customer:
Then I went back to watching the clock.
Douchebag: (slamming his Dr. Scholl's shoe inserts and razors on my counter) I HATE when things get moved around.
Me: (Please just go away.)
DB: It's not your fault.
Me: (Ya think?)
I finish up the transaction and send Douchebag back into the night. Another customer came up soon after this guy and saw his outburst. Once the doors were safely closed I finally opened my mouth.
Me: The funny part is the stuff he was buying was moved over a year ago.
Nice Customer:
Then I went back to watching the clock.
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