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...and just BEAT IT. 
Quit It
Daily now my faith in humanity (HA!) what there was of it, anyway, has been fast dwindling, not least of all because of the utter plague of stupidity that appears to have terminally infected about 98% of the species. Common sense SHOULD (key word there, kids) tell you that when the automated checkout machine you are using is TELLING you, REPEATEDLY, NOT to move the motherfucking bags before your shit has had a chance to settle on the pressure-sensitive scale, DON'T MOVE THE GODDAMN BAGS!! If I had a buck for each and every dipshit that does this and then gets all pissed off because "this machine is haaaaaard" I'd have enough to put that jackass Trump in the poorhouse.
So naturally I have to come over and explain this concept of OMG! PATIENCE! to the one-brain-celled organisms, and/or correct the scanning device with my magical key when it locks up and temporarily stops scanning. I am getting juuuuuuuuuuuuuuust a tad tired of this.
KNOCK IT OFF, ASSHOLES.
To Paraphrase The Song, Here's An iPhone, Text Someone Who Cares
Cranky Consumer: You know who has better prices than you? [name of competitor]. (Not really. I've shopped the joint myself. With maybe a few exceptions, they're really not much different than we are.)
Me: [outwardly] *wordless zombie smile and nod* Ah, okay. [inwardly] Then why don't you go shop there, you dumb bitch, instead of pissing on me about it as though you think I have some incredible power to control it? 'Cause if I did, guaranteed you'd be charged double, nay, triple, for being an annoying pain in the ass!
(I expect this to worsen what with the sudden spike in gas prices. Oh joy of joys.)
The First Step To Overcoming Your Problem Is Admitting That You Are One
Honest Customer: I'm an idiot! I'm working this machine wrong! (Those were his words verbatim, and he was. Big time.)
Me: [outwardly] *smile and sympathies* It's ok, I'm here to help. [inwardly] Yes. Yes, you are. But kudos to you for admitting it and for stepping down in the face of my clearly superior powers. There is hope for you yet.
Excuse Me, Sir, You Appear To Have A Large Wooden Object Trapped Inside Your Anal Cavity...
Catbuttface Man: You need to get someone more competent to run that deli! I had to wait and was totally ignored! (Our deli people are pretty cool, and if they made someone wait, it sure wasn't out of rudeness or ignoring them.)
Me: [outwardly] *zombie smile-nod* Ok, I'll tell someone. [inwardly] Why the hell are you bitching to me, assturd? If you're that pissed go whine to management, that's what they get paid for.
(Dollars to donuts CBF Man was likely a touron (tourist + moron = touron), as I didn't recognize his face and I've gotten fairly good at remembering some of the locals, and thus far in my experience none of the locals have ever had a problem with the deli, much less the entire store.)
Paranoia Is The New Feel-Good-About-Yourself Drug
Me: *pulling people into my lane area as per management policy, that the Exalted shall not have to wait a minute longer to get their beer buzz on* Excuse me, ma'am, I can take you over here if you're ready to be checked out.
Customer: I won't use those self-checkouts. They put you people out of jobs. (Note: Some customers are well-meaning when they say this. This one was of the ass-is-screwed-on-so-tightly-she-squeaks-when-she-walks variety, proving once again it's not what you say, it's how you say it.)
Me: [outwardly] Ok. [inwardly] *affecting that Trix cereal commercial voice* Silly customers, don't they know that
them is what would actually put me out of a job?
(Manning the automatic machines is not exactly a cushy cakewalk. I'm *constantly* scrolling back and forth between these machines dealing with various customers' curiosities/concerns/complaints/etc. to the point where I can literally be bombarded at all sides during peak rush times by people who, sadly, apparently never learned in kindergarten how to wait their damned turn in line.)
In Another World, I Would Feed People Like You To The Sharks
SC: *smugly waits until AFTER I have put the transaction through to decide he is going to give me exact change.* I don't want all that change back!
Me: *is now confuzzled since I have to do mental arithmetic to discern how much correct change he is to get back, and, well, math ain't exactly my strongest suit*
But You People, I Will Feed To The Alligators
I have seen the buttcracks, and they are, in no particular order, sagging, doughy, wrinkled, dirty, chubby, sweaty, pasty white, (over)tanned, old, young, male and female alike. (Hey, if I have to suffer these visions, so must you. ALL SHALL FEEL MY WRATH.) Jesus pogo-stick barhopping creamsicle Christ, people, PULL UP YOUR FUCKING PANTS ALREADY!! I mean, you just turn around in the wrong place at the wrong time and bam, there's a big 'ol plumberbutt in your face. I freely admit to my own share of slobbiness, but I *guarantee* you I don't let my ass hang out for the whole world to YouTube it.
Um, NO
Customer: Do you have Scrapple?
Me:
*thinking I'd misheard him somehow* Um, I don't think we carry board games, sir...
Customer: No, no. It's Scrapple. Y'all must be too young then to have heard of it. *goes and hunts down said item, returns with it in hand* Ever had it before? If you want some GOOOOOOOD eatin', you need to try this!
(I still don't know what the fuck Scrapple is. But now that I know what it looks like, I know that I NEVER EVER EVER WANT TO TOUCH THAT WITH A THOUSAND-FOOT POLE. It looks like something your flu-stricken pet who's just eaten the potted fern threw up, gobbled up again, then shat back out. This loverly item can be found ostensibly in the cold-foods section and is presumably cooked in a frying pan. Eat at your own risk.)
Quit It
Daily now my faith in humanity (HA!) what there was of it, anyway, has been fast dwindling, not least of all because of the utter plague of stupidity that appears to have terminally infected about 98% of the species. Common sense SHOULD (key word there, kids) tell you that when the automated checkout machine you are using is TELLING you, REPEATEDLY, NOT to move the motherfucking bags before your shit has had a chance to settle on the pressure-sensitive scale, DON'T MOVE THE GODDAMN BAGS!! If I had a buck for each and every dipshit that does this and then gets all pissed off because "this machine is haaaaaard" I'd have enough to put that jackass Trump in the poorhouse.
So naturally I have to come over and explain this concept of OMG! PATIENCE! to the one-brain-celled organisms, and/or correct the scanning device with my magical key when it locks up and temporarily stops scanning. I am getting juuuuuuuuuuuuuuust a tad tired of this.
KNOCK IT OFF, ASSHOLES.
To Paraphrase The Song, Here's An iPhone, Text Someone Who Cares
Cranky Consumer: You know who has better prices than you? [name of competitor]. (Not really. I've shopped the joint myself. With maybe a few exceptions, they're really not much different than we are.)
Me: [outwardly] *wordless zombie smile and nod* Ah, okay. [inwardly] Then why don't you go shop there, you dumb bitch, instead of pissing on me about it as though you think I have some incredible power to control it? 'Cause if I did, guaranteed you'd be charged double, nay, triple, for being an annoying pain in the ass!
(I expect this to worsen what with the sudden spike in gas prices. Oh joy of joys.)
The First Step To Overcoming Your Problem Is Admitting That You Are One
Honest Customer: I'm an idiot! I'm working this machine wrong! (Those were his words verbatim, and he was. Big time.)
Me: [outwardly] *smile and sympathies* It's ok, I'm here to help. [inwardly] Yes. Yes, you are. But kudos to you for admitting it and for stepping down in the face of my clearly superior powers. There is hope for you yet.
Excuse Me, Sir, You Appear To Have A Large Wooden Object Trapped Inside Your Anal Cavity...
Catbuttface Man: You need to get someone more competent to run that deli! I had to wait and was totally ignored! (Our deli people are pretty cool, and if they made someone wait, it sure wasn't out of rudeness or ignoring them.)
Me: [outwardly] *zombie smile-nod* Ok, I'll tell someone. [inwardly] Why the hell are you bitching to me, assturd? If you're that pissed go whine to management, that's what they get paid for.
(Dollars to donuts CBF Man was likely a touron (tourist + moron = touron), as I didn't recognize his face and I've gotten fairly good at remembering some of the locals, and thus far in my experience none of the locals have ever had a problem with the deli, much less the entire store.)
Paranoia Is The New Feel-Good-About-Yourself Drug
Me: *pulling people into my lane area as per management policy, that the Exalted shall not have to wait a minute longer to get their beer buzz on* Excuse me, ma'am, I can take you over here if you're ready to be checked out.
Customer: I won't use those self-checkouts. They put you people out of jobs. (Note: Some customers are well-meaning when they say this. This one was of the ass-is-screwed-on-so-tightly-she-squeaks-when-she-walks variety, proving once again it's not what you say, it's how you say it.)
Me: [outwardly] Ok. [inwardly] *affecting that Trix cereal commercial voice* Silly customers, don't they know that
them is what would actually put me out of a job? (Manning the automatic machines is not exactly a cushy cakewalk. I'm *constantly* scrolling back and forth between these machines dealing with various customers' curiosities/concerns/complaints/etc. to the point where I can literally be bombarded at all sides during peak rush times by people who, sadly, apparently never learned in kindergarten how to wait their damned turn in line.)
In Another World, I Would Feed People Like You To The Sharks
SC: *smugly waits until AFTER I have put the transaction through to decide he is going to give me exact change.* I don't want all that change back!
Me: *is now confuzzled since I have to do mental arithmetic to discern how much correct change he is to get back, and, well, math ain't exactly my strongest suit*
But You People, I Will Feed To The Alligators
I have seen the buttcracks, and they are, in no particular order, sagging, doughy, wrinkled, dirty, chubby, sweaty, pasty white, (over)tanned, old, young, male and female alike. (Hey, if I have to suffer these visions, so must you. ALL SHALL FEEL MY WRATH.) Jesus pogo-stick barhopping creamsicle Christ, people, PULL UP YOUR FUCKING PANTS ALREADY!! I mean, you just turn around in the wrong place at the wrong time and bam, there's a big 'ol plumberbutt in your face. I freely admit to my own share of slobbiness, but I *guarantee* you I don't let my ass hang out for the whole world to YouTube it.
Um, NO
Customer: Do you have Scrapple?
Me:
*thinking I'd misheard him somehow* Um, I don't think we carry board games, sir...Customer: No, no. It's Scrapple. Y'all must be too young then to have heard of it. *goes and hunts down said item, returns with it in hand* Ever had it before? If you want some GOOOOOOOD eatin', you need to try this!
(I still don't know what the fuck Scrapple is. But now that I know what it looks like, I know that I NEVER EVER EVER WANT TO TOUCH THAT WITH A THOUSAND-FOOT POLE. It looks like something your flu-stricken pet who's just eaten the potted fern threw up, gobbled up again, then shat back out. This loverly item can be found ostensibly in the cold-foods section and is presumably cooked in a frying pan. Eat at your own risk.)
when they go on their little tirades about it.
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