This is a collection of stories from the past week at my Aid of Rite. The details are a little bit fuzzy and there were a lot more annoying things and people that happened but not annoying enough to be remembered (thank god?)
Naughty Naughty
There is a customer who comes in that Awesome Manager hated with a passion and told me not to be nice because she was a horrible lady. I've written about her before but I can't be assed to look up the moniker I gave her. She's nice, but I believe she's in the early stages of Alzhimers. I'll call her Alzhimers.
Alzhimers loves me to pieces because I'm the only one patient enough to give her help without hauling off and smacking her because she seems to forget a lot. One time she took up 5 minutes of my time telling slightly naughty jokes but being concerned that SM would kick her out. Her attitude put me in mind of a 9 year old boy saying his first dirty word out loud to his friends-all hushed giggles, whispers and looking over shoulders.
Dangerously Close To The Boobs
Used in both senses of the word, here.
Guy has been after working with us for a LONG time now but I really don't know if we will hire him. He gives off that "desperate" vibe and always buys 2 cans of "Blabatt" beer. He gave me a 10 minute diatribe on how he sees things going on in the workplace and how he's a good reliable employee, been turned down for a felony for a DUI several years ago (my eyes flick to the cans he's buying and my eyebrow raises). In response to something I asked, he reached out and patted that bit where the top of my breasts start and where the heart is and says, "Oh, not YOU dear!"
Probably going to put a bid into SM to not hire him if he's that touchy-feely. Ick.
I Wanted A Drink
I don't drink by choice (I got buzzed enough to know I make an angry drunk so no drinks for me unless I very carefully monitor my intake!) but after dealing with this woman I wished, badly for a drink.
She comes in at 5 pm, busiest time of the night for us and plunks a full bag of stuff down.
"Hi I would like a clean receipt, I don't like all these pluses and minuses and void outs and rerings in. On top of that, I don't like your 'Healthiness +' card system. Why am I being charged 2/$5 for crackers when the sign clearly states 2/$4?"
"Ok, well, the way the system works is that you pay the 2/$5 now but you receive a reward for the dollar back after you pay. It's like paying 2/$4."
"I don't like it. I want to return everything, rering it again except the crackers and peanut butter and get a fresh receipt."
"Ok. *sigh*"
For some reason, for EVERY. SINGLE. FUSKING. ITEM. she has it requires a manager's approval to get in. I'm trying to be patient but it's a bit hard when the computer is being stupid, but luckily manager J is there, being his usual awesome polite self. So finally I get everything in, I rering it all back out, place the crackers and peanut butter into the returns and ring the bottle of lotion she had brought back up.
"Ok, so we owe you $2.51. can you sign here at the bottom of the slip for me, please? Thank you, have a nice day."
"Where's the $42.47?"
"Excuse me?"
"I asked for you to give me my money back so I could see what it all came to."
"...You did not."
"I did!"
"Ok, it's possible I misheard you. I will have to return all of this again, though."
"Just do whatever it takes!"
Again, for EVERY. SINGLE. FUSCKING. ITEM. The computer WILL. NOT. read the barcode at the bottom of the receipt and insist "related sales entry not found" even though I rang it in 30 SECONDS EARLIER. Manager A is the one putting her numbers and is getting snappy and pissy at me because OH MY GOD SHE HAS A MILLION INVOICES TO DO AND PHOTO AND "EASTERN" UNIONS AND SHE IS SO TIRED OF RUNNING CHANGE FOR US GIRLS ALL DAY. Oh crap I screwed up and accidently put in the lotion for more than it's worth and screwed up the total return price. Manager A gets snappier and pissier. Finally I get the return price sorted out, but wondering why I'm coming up $2.51 short...until manager A saw the $2.51 out on the counter and then began to call me a "dum dum" for not seeing it earlier.
Finally the woman leaves with her money and promises to come back later and whines about how misleading the rewards program is and wah wah wah. Ok, good. Bye. Good riddance. Just leave so I can care for the line behind you that's grown large enough to be approximately the entire population of Sweden.
Le Freak, C'est Chic pt 2
(and now I have that song stuck in my head now :P)
We PROMISE that we are not selling your number to "Smustler" magazine or "Playbunny" magazine or even that magazine we sell in the magazine aisle that caters exclusively to the "Sir Mixalot" crowd (women with large derrieres, anyone?). We also PROMISE that the Federal Government will not pistol whip your dog nor send you prank calls at midnight for giving your number to us. Just stop throwing a temper tantrum about it. Please. Just go away with your newly purchased crap or sans newly purchased crap. Just go away.
R, Your Job?
So I'm being moved from Monday afternoons to Monday mornings. Mornings are usually slow anyway, but I expect I will be shafted on the register all fricken day as per usual on Sundays. Which means that cleaning the bathrooms are no longer an option. R's job is to clean the bathrooms. R doesn't want to do the bathrooms because he whines they are gross and he doesn't want to clean other people's shit out of them. Especially since Monday night where a thunderstorm caused raw sewage to seep out of the nearby storm drain, across the parking lot and into the women's restroom, as well as up from the toilet (that I was sitting on and had gotten off of maybe 5 seconds before the flood started-talk about lucky!) and the raw sewage is still there in the corner, dried out but untouched What should I do? Complain to SM? Show her the evidence? I don't know.
Bonus: Keeping Me Past My Time
So you ask me to unlock something for you, then stand there and read the back for five minutes, consider it, then put it back? Go away, too.
Naughty Naughty
There is a customer who comes in that Awesome Manager hated with a passion and told me not to be nice because she was a horrible lady. I've written about her before but I can't be assed to look up the moniker I gave her. She's nice, but I believe she's in the early stages of Alzhimers. I'll call her Alzhimers.
Alzhimers loves me to pieces because I'm the only one patient enough to give her help without hauling off and smacking her because she seems to forget a lot. One time she took up 5 minutes of my time telling slightly naughty jokes but being concerned that SM would kick her out. Her attitude put me in mind of a 9 year old boy saying his first dirty word out loud to his friends-all hushed giggles, whispers and looking over shoulders.
Dangerously Close To The Boobs
Used in both senses of the word, here.
Guy has been after working with us for a LONG time now but I really don't know if we will hire him. He gives off that "desperate" vibe and always buys 2 cans of "Blabatt" beer. He gave me a 10 minute diatribe on how he sees things going on in the workplace and how he's a good reliable employee, been turned down for a felony for a DUI several years ago (my eyes flick to the cans he's buying and my eyebrow raises). In response to something I asked, he reached out and patted that bit where the top of my breasts start and where the heart is and says, "Oh, not YOU dear!"
Probably going to put a bid into SM to not hire him if he's that touchy-feely. Ick.
I Wanted A Drink
I don't drink by choice (I got buzzed enough to know I make an angry drunk so no drinks for me unless I very carefully monitor my intake!) but after dealing with this woman I wished, badly for a drink.
She comes in at 5 pm, busiest time of the night for us and plunks a full bag of stuff down.
"Hi I would like a clean receipt, I don't like all these pluses and minuses and void outs and rerings in. On top of that, I don't like your 'Healthiness +' card system. Why am I being charged 2/$5 for crackers when the sign clearly states 2/$4?"
"Ok, well, the way the system works is that you pay the 2/$5 now but you receive a reward for the dollar back after you pay. It's like paying 2/$4."
"I don't like it. I want to return everything, rering it again except the crackers and peanut butter and get a fresh receipt."
"Ok. *sigh*"
For some reason, for EVERY. SINGLE. FUSKING. ITEM. she has it requires a manager's approval to get in. I'm trying to be patient but it's a bit hard when the computer is being stupid, but luckily manager J is there, being his usual awesome polite self. So finally I get everything in, I rering it all back out, place the crackers and peanut butter into the returns and ring the bottle of lotion she had brought back up.
"Ok, so we owe you $2.51. can you sign here at the bottom of the slip for me, please? Thank you, have a nice day."
"Where's the $42.47?"
"Excuse me?"
"I asked for you to give me my money back so I could see what it all came to."
"...You did not."
"I did!"
"Ok, it's possible I misheard you. I will have to return all of this again, though."
"Just do whatever it takes!"
Again, for EVERY. SINGLE. FUSCKING. ITEM. The computer WILL. NOT. read the barcode at the bottom of the receipt and insist "related sales entry not found" even though I rang it in 30 SECONDS EARLIER. Manager A is the one putting her numbers and is getting snappy and pissy at me because OH MY GOD SHE HAS A MILLION INVOICES TO DO AND PHOTO AND "EASTERN" UNIONS AND SHE IS SO TIRED OF RUNNING CHANGE FOR US GIRLS ALL DAY. Oh crap I screwed up and accidently put in the lotion for more than it's worth and screwed up the total return price. Manager A gets snappier and pissier. Finally I get the return price sorted out, but wondering why I'm coming up $2.51 short...until manager A saw the $2.51 out on the counter and then began to call me a "dum dum" for not seeing it earlier.
Finally the woman leaves with her money and promises to come back later and whines about how misleading the rewards program is and wah wah wah. Ok, good. Bye. Good riddance. Just leave so I can care for the line behind you that's grown large enough to be approximately the entire population of Sweden.
Le Freak, C'est Chic pt 2
(and now I have that song stuck in my head now :P)
We PROMISE that we are not selling your number to "Smustler" magazine or "Playbunny" magazine or even that magazine we sell in the magazine aisle that caters exclusively to the "Sir Mixalot" crowd (women with large derrieres, anyone?). We also PROMISE that the Federal Government will not pistol whip your dog nor send you prank calls at midnight for giving your number to us. Just stop throwing a temper tantrum about it. Please. Just go away with your newly purchased crap or sans newly purchased crap. Just go away.
R, Your Job?
So I'm being moved from Monday afternoons to Monday mornings. Mornings are usually slow anyway, but I expect I will be shafted on the register all fricken day as per usual on Sundays. Which means that cleaning the bathrooms are no longer an option. R's job is to clean the bathrooms. R doesn't want to do the bathrooms because he whines they are gross and he doesn't want to clean other people's shit out of them. Especially since Monday night where a thunderstorm caused raw sewage to seep out of the nearby storm drain, across the parking lot and into the women's restroom, as well as up from the toilet (that I was sitting on and had gotten off of maybe 5 seconds before the flood started-talk about lucky!) and the raw sewage is still there in the corner, dried out but untouched What should I do? Complain to SM? Show her the evidence? I don't know.
Bonus: Keeping Me Past My Time
So you ask me to unlock something for you, then stand there and read the back for five minutes, consider it, then put it back? Go away, too.
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