This morning, we had a customer who all around bossed us around and walked all over us, with no considerations for others whatsoever.
He came in, looked at the chainsaws with his buddy, and being a general loudmouth. He parked his cart right in the way of other people, and when they tried to get around him, he'd poke at them and declare them fat, saying "You prob'ly couldn't get past me anyways." He tore apart all the aisles he was in, leaving things wherever he wanted to. Opened most of the loose screws and nuts drawers and never bothered to close them. I found a smoldering cigarette on the shelf near one of the chainsaws after they left.
I'm sorting through the keys, when I hear a loud and annoying "Hey li'l f$@#er. Staples!"
Being the shy type, I hope to high heaven that he's not talking to me. The voice is more than thirty feet away from me, and I don't see anything out of the corner of my eye.
"'ey! I'm talkin' ta you! Staples!"
Then I see him out of the corner of my eye. He's giving me the stink-eye and the "Where the hell have you been?" expression, all at the same time. He dashes over to the desk, and shouts at me like I'm a moron. "Staaaay-puuulllls,"
It's a deeply set instinct of mine to greet people when they're talking to me. "Hello, how're you today?"
"Staples!"
"... Yes I'm fine, thank you very much for asking."
"Staples!"
At this point, I really, really wanted to say "Oh my f*I@ing god, I am talking to a Robot." and just wander away. But there's something about line of sight that just locks me in...
So instead, I muster a "Yeah, I heard you the first three times. Did you hear me? You go to aisle StaplesNumber. Say hello to the person you want help from next time and you'll get some help, eh?"
Of course, I am met with him saying the following, in an expression of utter disbelief, and frank indifference, and hilarity, as if he had seen the hot dog he was eating grow wings and fly into a ceiling fan and die.
"Hello? Who the f*$@ cares?" And he turns to walk away.
So that's when I really wanted to say "If you say hello, I Care, and you'll make me want to help you, instead of the minimal effort I barely even need to give to you, consider the less than minimal ounce of care that you give to the people you want some bloody help from. Go eat a land mine."
Thank goodness I care so much more about the keys I'm putting away, or I might have shed a tear for the world, a'la the Native American shedding a tear for their now polluted former lands. Man, this stuff wouldn't have happened in the fifties.
Then two people came in and ordered 90 keys from me. I had them all, too. My rollercoaster of a day had just begun.
Oh. If they just say "Screws. Screws." over and over again, I'm saying "Screw you." Fugeddaboudit.
He came in, looked at the chainsaws with his buddy, and being a general loudmouth. He parked his cart right in the way of other people, and when they tried to get around him, he'd poke at them and declare them fat, saying "You prob'ly couldn't get past me anyways." He tore apart all the aisles he was in, leaving things wherever he wanted to. Opened most of the loose screws and nuts drawers and never bothered to close them. I found a smoldering cigarette on the shelf near one of the chainsaws after they left.
I'm sorting through the keys, when I hear a loud and annoying "Hey li'l f$@#er. Staples!"
Being the shy type, I hope to high heaven that he's not talking to me. The voice is more than thirty feet away from me, and I don't see anything out of the corner of my eye.
"'ey! I'm talkin' ta you! Staples!"
Then I see him out of the corner of my eye. He's giving me the stink-eye and the "Where the hell have you been?" expression, all at the same time. He dashes over to the desk, and shouts at me like I'm a moron. "Staaaay-puuulllls,"
It's a deeply set instinct of mine to greet people when they're talking to me. "Hello, how're you today?"
"Staples!"
"... Yes I'm fine, thank you very much for asking."
"Staples!"
At this point, I really, really wanted to say "Oh my f*I@ing god, I am talking to a Robot." and just wander away. But there's something about line of sight that just locks me in...
So instead, I muster a "Yeah, I heard you the first three times. Did you hear me? You go to aisle StaplesNumber. Say hello to the person you want help from next time and you'll get some help, eh?"
Of course, I am met with him saying the following, in an expression of utter disbelief, and frank indifference, and hilarity, as if he had seen the hot dog he was eating grow wings and fly into a ceiling fan and die.
"Hello? Who the f*$@ cares?" And he turns to walk away.
So that's when I really wanted to say "If you say hello, I Care, and you'll make me want to help you, instead of the minimal effort I barely even need to give to you, consider the less than minimal ounce of care that you give to the people you want some bloody help from. Go eat a land mine."
Thank goodness I care so much more about the keys I'm putting away, or I might have shed a tear for the world, a'la the Native American shedding a tear for their now polluted former lands. Man, this stuff wouldn't have happened in the fifties.
Then two people came in and ordered 90 keys from me. I had them all, too. My rollercoaster of a day had just begun.
Oh. If they just say "Screws. Screws." over and over again, I'm saying "Screw you." Fugeddaboudit.
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