Ramblings from the Desert

The man who trades freedom for security does not deserve nor will he ever receive either. ~Benjamin Franklin

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Location: New Mexico

Author of the urban fantasy novel, The Music of Chaos, and the paranormal romance, The Canvas Thief.

Monday, April 10, 2006

Crappy Service Sector Jobs.

Revisited the Customers Suck LJ Community and had some not-fond memories of shitty retail jobs.

Idiot: [Scowls at long line.] Why don't you hire more people?
ME: (Thinking) I'm nineteen years old. I'm working for minumum wage and even if I could work full time, they wouldn't let me because then they'd have to pay me benefits. In order to get bathroom breaks, I have to fill out a stack of paperwork. Do you really think I have any say in hiring and staffing, do ya, do ya?

Idiot: [Big retail store] Show me how this camera works. [points to expensive model with lot of geegaws] What? You can't show me all the features? [Makes a point of looking around.] Isn't this the Cameras department?
ME: (Thinking) Fuck off. This is a minimum wage job at a cheap-ass big retailer. You don't honestly think that big, faceless retailers send their lackeys to any kind of training, do you? If you want that kind of service, pony up and go to one of the small, locally-owned camera shoppes.

Idiot: Your prices are so high. I can get this for $4.50 at Wal-Mart.
ME: (Thinking) What the fuck do you want me to do about it? I don't own the place. I can't just mark down shit because you're a cheap bitch who loves Wal-Mart. Go, go to Wal-Mart and don't let the door hit you in the ass.

Idiot: You can't count change back to me? In my day, everyone could count change back.
ME: (Thinking) Fuck you, Grandpa. In your day, dinosaurs ruled the Earth and there was no toilet paper. I've taken maths through Calculus and Differential Equations. I HAVE A LEARNING DISABILITY and can't do arithmatic in my head. I gay-ron-tee, however, that I have a zillion IQ points on you.

Idiot: [Hands me a twenty. I plug the value into the register.] No wait! Here's a ten and fifty cents, give me back the twenty and...ten cents change.
ME: Eh?
Idiot: [Rattles off some verbal diarrhea which may or may not be a mathmatical scam.]
ME: [Not returning the twenty.] Sorry. I already typed it in the register. [Ignoring Idiot's splutters.] Hand Idiot change from twenty.

Idiot: [Calling wild bird seed store.] A roadrunner has built a nest near a construction project I'm working on. The bird is aggressive and won't let me near my project.
ME: Yes. They will do that sometimes.
Idiot: I need to get back to that project.
ME: Hook up the water hose and give the bird a little squirt. It should leave you alone then.
Idiot: No. It's too far from the house. I can't do that. [Meaning he won't even try.] Look. Somebody has to do something. Or else I'm calling animal control.
ME: (thinking) And I'm supposed to what? Rush out and deal with your bird problem? We sell seed, AssHat. Seed. We don't remove birds. I'm sure there's a special place in hell for jerks like you who can't postpone their "projects" for a while to let some poor animal raise its family. Burn baby, burn.

And finally to all Old People. Kindly do not pull out pictures of you grandkids and show them to the cashier when there is a queue behind you. The cashier doesn't give a shit. She was just feigning interest in your life because her supervisor was nearby. And the rest of the world isn't retired and yes, indeedie, they have to be somewhere soon.

Be nice to a server or cashier. Remember we can and will spit in your food or poorly pack your groceries.

Happy Monday.
P.K.

 

Graphics and Content Copyright © Patricia Kirby 2005