Open Mouth, Insert Foot

I have worked the past five days, and thank God I got a day off today. I’ve had it up to here with people.

A couple of days ago, there were two guys in my line buying stuff for a cookout. Steph was in the line in front of me, and the guy wanted cheaper hamburger buns. He sent his friend to get it, and got the wrong ones, so the guy went to get him. His friend goes, “God, would’ve paid the extra 40 cents. I don’t know why I go with him, he’s not a good friend. Seriously. I don’t know why I’m friends with him.” Well, Stephanie starts cracking up laughing, and I was just in my Oh My God I can’t believe you said that phase. My mom turns around to asks what happened, and we were like “we’ll tell you later”.

He ended up getting one set of buns and they left.

Then one night, I was sitting at Citizen’s Bank on a chair, since my legs were killing me and there weren’t many customers. It was near the end of the night. I’m sitting there and this guy is yelling “hello! hello!” (I’m like dude, seriously, there is only one light on, are you fucking blind?) So I get up and point as I hobble over there in pain.

So I look at his shirt, which is something I saw online and thought it was cool. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So while I’m making small talk he was just being an asshole. His wife came up and Brownie was bagging for me and she recognized him. So I told Brownie that I thought the guy’s shirt was cool,and he was like “what are you gonna do next, ask me if I’m Indian?” I’m like dude calm the fuck down.

Such a dick.

Then yesterday, both Nick’s were bagging for me, and this couple and the girl’s father were buying stuff. So the boyfriend went to pay, and the father was like “no, I’m paying” and went back and forth. The boyfriend ended up paying, but the father shoved money into his daughter’s hands. When the father turned around, she shoved the money in his butt pocket.  Then the convo goes like this:

Father: “you guys would like it if we gave it to you.”

Me, Nick and Nick: “Yea, we could use it”

Father (talking to Nick with the long hair) “Yea you can use it for a haircut”

Nick (after they leave) “Such an asshole. He needs it for Rogaine.”

LOL

I don’t know what’s with customers lately, or at all actually. If someone is standing at a register, and a light is on, then obviously I’m open. There was one day where I was literally asked every time if I was open. No, I’m just standing there with a fucking yellow shirt, ugly black apron looking like a fucking bumble bee for shits and giggles. Of course I’m fucking open. DUHHHHHHHHHH.

 I don’t know what’s up with certain people, but I do not understand why we shined our registers with baby oil. There was this one night that I don’t know which manager had the brains to have us shine our registers with baby oil. It doesn’t dry. And they baby oiled my mom’s register, so customers were getting their food and stuff covered in baby oil. I don’t know about you, but I sure in hell do not want my shit covered in fucking baby oil. It may feel “dry”, but really, it’s still wet and gliding on stuff.

Oh, and customers are really disgusting. If you’re not feeling good, stay the fuck home.  A couple of nights ago, all the sudden I see all the CSS’s running around trying to figure out something with the bathroom. I went in the women’s bathroom, and low and behold, in the second stall, which got broken last week and repaired, got covered in shit. I don’t mean just the toilet, shit was all over the walls and the stall and the rest of the toilet. Someone had a serious explosive ass, and didn’t sit down in time. Unless it was one of those squatters.

I hate squatters.

I hate squatters and I hate the parents who teach their kids how to squat. SIT ON THE FUCKING TOILET. The toilet wouldn’t be disgusting and get piss and shit all over it if you fucking people sat your ass on it. And don’t use your feet to flush the toilet, you can always wash your hands. God knows where the fuck your feet have been or what you stepped in. Do the classy way that was taught in all those potty training books. Sit on the toilet, do your business, wash your hands and dry them. Call it a fucking day.

I’m sure I have more to say, but it will come another day.