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God. Sometimes I wish I could shake sense into people's heads.
Before I begin: I want some snappy answers to all the people who call me short or give me variants on "I can't see you!". Being called "pocket sized", "shorty", "small", etc, is really getting on my nerves. I don't mind my boyfriend calling me that, but to have some idiot call me short is akin to calling me fat to my face. Why am I getting all riled up about this? I don't know; but I'd like it to stop. I had to stop and breathe for a minute before I went off on someone who gave me yet another variant of "you're too small".
I've come up with snarky answers like "And you're bald and rude", but I want something that won't get me fired.
Wounded
This woman immediately gets all bitchy because she ignores me at the register (even though I've got a line of people) and then has to get her important derriere to my register. She's got some of the big wound pads (look like bandaids but bigger) and gets all impatient when I ring them out.
"If these don't work can I bring them back?" *shows off HUGE wound on her arm*
"Yes as long as you have the receipt".
Once it's been rung through, she snatches the package out of my hand, opens a pad, slaps it on and leaves her trash all over my register. So I have to drag out the alcohol spray and disinfect it AGAIN even though I had just cleaned it five minutes before. Sigh.
We. DON'T. HAVE. IT.
Not sure if I posted about this woman before. But she called the store no less than 3 times AND came in no less than 3 times within two hours, convinced that we had her medicines.
"But I put them down for a second right HERE!" she kept saying on the phone and while wandering around. No one, not SM, not LP, not manager S1, not me, not J or manager A or the woman's husband could convince her that her medicines were lost, period. We gave them to her and what she did with them was beyond our control. The medicines in question were narcotics. If she wasn't watching them carefully, some idiot could probably have taken them. Which is what I suspect happened.
Before I begin: I want some snappy answers to all the people who call me short or give me variants on "I can't see you!". Being called "pocket sized", "shorty", "small", etc, is really getting on my nerves. I don't mind my boyfriend calling me that, but to have some idiot call me short is akin to calling me fat to my face. Why am I getting all riled up about this? I don't know; but I'd like it to stop. I had to stop and breathe for a minute before I went off on someone who gave me yet another variant of "you're too small".
I've come up with snarky answers like "And you're bald and rude", but I want something that won't get me fired.
Wounded
This woman immediately gets all bitchy because she ignores me at the register (even though I've got a line of people) and then has to get her important derriere to my register. She's got some of the big wound pads (look like bandaids but bigger) and gets all impatient when I ring them out.
"If these don't work can I bring them back?" *shows off HUGE wound on her arm*
"Yes as long as you have the receipt".
Once it's been rung through, she snatches the package out of my hand, opens a pad, slaps it on and leaves her trash all over my register. So I have to drag out the alcohol spray and disinfect it AGAIN even though I had just cleaned it five minutes before. Sigh.
We. DON'T. HAVE. IT.
Not sure if I posted about this woman before. But she called the store no less than 3 times AND came in no less than 3 times within two hours, convinced that we had her medicines.
"But I put them down for a second right HERE!" she kept saying on the phone and while wandering around. No one, not SM, not LP, not manager S1, not me, not J or manager A or the woman's husband could convince her that her medicines were lost, period. We gave them to her and what she did with them was beyond our control. The medicines in question were narcotics. If she wasn't watching them carefully, some idiot could probably have taken them. Which is what I suspect happened.
He is my Black Dragon (and yes, a good one) strong, protective, the guardian. I am his Silver Dragon, always by his side, shining for him, cherishing him.
A bit off-topic here, but I remember when my aunt visited one time, she heard me sing Alan Jackson's "Little Bitty." Ever since then, she's called me Little Bitty. I don't mind that, she's family. It's a completely different story when friends, let alone strangers, call me that. The neighbor kid was around during one of my aunt's visits wanting to borrow something (I forget what). While my mom went to get it, he overheard my aunt calling me Little Bitty. The next time I saw him (the next day), he called me Little Bitty.
I think I made my point loud and clear to him because he never did it again.
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