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Take your stuff!! (Long)
Okay, as some of you who've read my previous posts may know, I used to work at a large American pharmacy chain (Rhymes with All-greens!), and if any of you have been in the smaller stores you may have noticed that we don't have conveyer belts-the one I worked at had very small counters for the checkouts, even the front/main one, and only enough room in the bagging area for maybe two bagfuls of items. Usually not a problem, as when most people come up with a lot of items, they push the cart up near the bagging area, and I just put the bags in the cart as I go, or they do it themselves. Simple, effective, and it keeps things from getting piled up. It's not a hard thing to figure out, right?
Evidently not.
So, I already knew this guy would be trouble from the moment he walked in-Taller guy with who I'm assuming was his wife/girlfriend, barking into a cell phone, him wearing designer slacks and all (looked like an upper-business class guy), his girlfriend wearing something that made her look like a particularly well-groomed whore (you know, skirt short enough to show her thong, breasts practically falling out of what could barely be called a shirt, more jewelry than Mr. T, that sort of nonsense), chewing on the ear-parts of her sunglasses' frames with her massive probably-ten-thousand-dollars purse swinging around where it could easily hit someone (You'd think she could afford some manners or decency) and yawping about oh my god, this store is so TINY, where's the designer blah blah blah.
They finally get their stuff after the girlfriend only knocks over two displays with her projectile purse of doom, and bring it up to me. They had a pretty big basketful-not one of the hand-baskets, mind you, a full buggy, with mostly groceries. After unloading them onto the counter (where they barely fit), I started checking them out and bagging them, expecting them to move the cart to it's normal position since there was no way I'd be able to fit even a portion of what they had in the bagging area. I should've known better.
The guy, still yawping on his phone (not having even answered to my greeting), had swung the cart away at a weird angle where I couldn't possibly reach it-even my much taller co-workers wouldn't have been able to get to it, so I couldn't put the bags in it as I filled them like I normally do, so I was forced to start bagging things together that I normally wouldn't because I simply had no room. One of the things I was forced to put together was a gallon of milk and a loaf of bread-I was very careful to make sure the bread didn't get so much as dented, they weren't on top of each other or anything, just in the same bag. I hoped that they'd notice the problem when I started being forced to put things on the counter, but nope-the guy kept yapping and the girlfriend continued gnawing on her Gucci sunglasses (rather expensive chewtoy, methinks) instead of bothering to put anything in the cart.
The guy's phone conversation finally ended, and without that distraction he finally noticed that the bags were decidedly NOT in the cart, which to him, was a problem. He glared at me and immediately demanded to know why I wasn't putting things in the cart. He was a very important person (his emphasis, not mine) and didn't I know that he couldn't be bothered to do such menial tasks meant for those not even worthy to touch the hem of his jacket?
I explained to him that I couldn't put things in the cart when he had the cart so far away from me, that I'm short (the top of my head barely reached the bottom of his chest) and I can't reach that far. Grumbling, he pushed the cart closer. Now being able to move things, I put what I could in the cart, and things that needed to be rebagged I took care of, like separating the milk and the bread. His girlfriend started complaining that I was taking too long to put things in the cart, and I explained that I had to rebag some of the items because they were with others that they shouldn't be, like the milk with the bread, because I had no space. Evidently missing the 'space' part, the guy just sneered at me and said that only someone completely stupid would put milk with bread in the first place. I pointedly ignored his comment (besides plopping his milk and bread into the cart much harder than necessary) and took his credit card without a word, and finally got rid of him. On the way out the door he commented very loudly that this store must be one of those 'affermative action' places, since they were only hiring compete retards, which sent his girlfriend braying in laughter like a donkey, thus demonstrating not only a crude and very obnoxious 'humor', but that he clearly doesn't know what the phrase actually refers to.
Naturally, my customary "Have a good day, Sir" was dripping with "Go fuck yourself".
I can't stand people that think they can treat us like dirt just because they make more money than we do-or at least spend it more frivolously than us more practical, realistic people. I really wish it was okay to openly tell them to go boil their bugger heads at work.
Aaaand there's a swarm of at least twenty vultures outside now because someone hit a deer in the road in front of my house. And someone has to drag the carcass out of the road since it's considered a hazard to have them there. Greeeat. *Sigh*
Evidently not.
So, I already knew this guy would be trouble from the moment he walked in-Taller guy with who I'm assuming was his wife/girlfriend, barking into a cell phone, him wearing designer slacks and all (looked like an upper-business class guy), his girlfriend wearing something that made her look like a particularly well-groomed whore (you know, skirt short enough to show her thong, breasts practically falling out of what could barely be called a shirt, more jewelry than Mr. T, that sort of nonsense), chewing on the ear-parts of her sunglasses' frames with her massive probably-ten-thousand-dollars purse swinging around where it could easily hit someone (You'd think she could afford some manners or decency) and yawping about oh my god, this store is so TINY, where's the designer blah blah blah.
They finally get their stuff after the girlfriend only knocks over two displays with her projectile purse of doom, and bring it up to me. They had a pretty big basketful-not one of the hand-baskets, mind you, a full buggy, with mostly groceries. After unloading them onto the counter (where they barely fit), I started checking them out and bagging them, expecting them to move the cart to it's normal position since there was no way I'd be able to fit even a portion of what they had in the bagging area. I should've known better.
The guy, still yawping on his phone (not having even answered to my greeting), had swung the cart away at a weird angle where I couldn't possibly reach it-even my much taller co-workers wouldn't have been able to get to it, so I couldn't put the bags in it as I filled them like I normally do, so I was forced to start bagging things together that I normally wouldn't because I simply had no room. One of the things I was forced to put together was a gallon of milk and a loaf of bread-I was very careful to make sure the bread didn't get so much as dented, they weren't on top of each other or anything, just in the same bag. I hoped that they'd notice the problem when I started being forced to put things on the counter, but nope-the guy kept yapping and the girlfriend continued gnawing on her Gucci sunglasses (rather expensive chewtoy, methinks) instead of bothering to put anything in the cart.
The guy's phone conversation finally ended, and without that distraction he finally noticed that the bags were decidedly NOT in the cart, which to him, was a problem. He glared at me and immediately demanded to know why I wasn't putting things in the cart. He was a very important person (his emphasis, not mine) and didn't I know that he couldn't be bothered to do such menial tasks meant for those not even worthy to touch the hem of his jacket?
I explained to him that I couldn't put things in the cart when he had the cart so far away from me, that I'm short (the top of my head barely reached the bottom of his chest) and I can't reach that far. Grumbling, he pushed the cart closer. Now being able to move things, I put what I could in the cart, and things that needed to be rebagged I took care of, like separating the milk and the bread. His girlfriend started complaining that I was taking too long to put things in the cart, and I explained that I had to rebag some of the items because they were with others that they shouldn't be, like the milk with the bread, because I had no space. Evidently missing the 'space' part, the guy just sneered at me and said that only someone completely stupid would put milk with bread in the first place. I pointedly ignored his comment (besides plopping his milk and bread into the cart much harder than necessary) and took his credit card without a word, and finally got rid of him. On the way out the door he commented very loudly that this store must be one of those 'affermative action' places, since they were only hiring compete retards, which sent his girlfriend braying in laughter like a donkey, thus demonstrating not only a crude and very obnoxious 'humor', but that he clearly doesn't know what the phrase actually refers to.
Naturally, my customary "Have a good day, Sir" was dripping with "Go fuck yourself".
I can't stand people that think they can treat us like dirt just because they make more money than we do-or at least spend it more frivolously than us more practical, realistic people. I really wish it was okay to openly tell them to go boil their bugger heads at work.
Aaaand there's a swarm of at least twenty vultures outside now because someone hit a deer in the road in front of my house. And someone has to drag the carcass out of the road since it's considered a hazard to have them there. Greeeat. *Sigh*
Unless the stuff was on a major bargain sale or if the SC had a gift card from there, it doesn't make sense to me either.
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