Day 700 of horrible icky sticky heat wave...(ok, gross exaggeration here...but FEELS like it) it was 80 degrees AND muggy this morning at 6 am which is when I became conscious of the alarm clock.
The store has air conditioning, kinda. Corporate installed this horrible device that is supposed to somehow save money so the air turns off at night and doesn't turn back on until the computer tells it to...usually 8 am. It is so humid and muggy in there in the mornings it smells terribly like a locker room. The Coke coolers and the vet cooler have moisture running down the insides of them because of the drastic difference in temperature inside and outside the coolers.
So I unloaded a truck FULL of shit. Then I sorted totes, then I sorted pallets, then I checked in UPS and Fed Ex, then the stupid Carry On Trailer truck came at 10 minutes til I was supposed to clock out...so I unloaded him, had an issue, had Jason (my buddy) help me out with said issue...and left half an hour late.
Am now exhausted. Having drank sooo much water at work and sweated it all back out...despite supposed air conditioning....I think the energy management system needs to meet with an untimely demise. A sledge hammer to the console might do it.
And of course, I am getting up at 4 am tomorrow to go back to the horrible muggy locker-room smelling place to put away freight and sweat some more....I deal with heat better than cold but this is ridiculous...especially when lots of days my job is go go go go go go go....I never seem to stop moving.
Maybe I just need an IV feeding me Slurpees all day long..or Margaritas...Margaritas would be the better of the two..make the day go by faster!
Thursday, July 18, 2013
Saturday, July 13, 2013
Kitty Litter Adenoid Bacon Jerky Lady
I ran into the woman with the gravelly, adenoid voice at the store yesterday. Again.
She's not particularly mean, nasty or smelly. She DOES smell of booze most of the time. But at least she doesn't have the unwashed cat lady odor....well, yet. She is a cat lady. She buys 2-3 40 lb boxes of kitty litter at a time. That's a lot of kitty litter. She's in every week at least once. I'm not sure how many cats this equates to exactly but I'm never really just in a hurry to have a chat with her.
Her voice makes me crazy.
She also can't or doesn't understand that she needs to enunciate her words. It all comes across as one big run-on word in a gravelly, adenoid monotone with a good measure of whining thrown in for further annoyance.
She once had a conversation with me about the tastiness of the bacon jerky the store sells. It went like this...
"Thatbaconjerkyissuhgood. CanIorderitbythecase. Ijuscan'tstopeatingitonceIstart. Ijuscan'tbelievehowgooooditis."
She is also the only person I have ever met who can stomach the disgusting, fatty bacon jerky. Everyone I have ever seen buy the wretched stuff has taken a bite, made the most awful "gross" face imaginable, spit it out, and taken a big drink of some sort of liquid, and has asked to return it. Some have even requested we pull it from the shelf it is so nasty. We always return it.
She rain checked ten bags. She spent $50 on inedible jerky.
It even looks gross. (It's not expired, its just how it is.) It looks like that half-cooked bacon you can buy at the grocery then run it through the microwave for thirty seconds to crisp it up and finish it cooking....yeah...limp, chewy and fatty...really, really gross. I refuse to touch and or taste it. It baffles me that once the people who buy it get a good look at it that they are adventurous enough to put it in their actual mouths.
Here is her other standard line.
"Canyouhelpmeliftthekittylitter. IbroketworibsandIcan'tliftannythingggg."
She broke her ribs two and a half years ago at least. Probably longer. I only know that the store has been open for that exact amount of time and she must be the world's slowest healer. If I ever quit I want to call her out on it. "No, I won't help you, how long does it take you to heal anyway? My dad broke ribs once, never stopped him from doing whatever the hell needed to be done no matter how much it hurt. A bone heals in 6-10 WEEKS lady...the 10 is for possible complications and slow healers. IT DOES NOT TAKE YEARS TO HEAL! Get your own kitty litter."
She's not particularly mean, nasty or smelly. She DOES smell of booze most of the time. But at least she doesn't have the unwashed cat lady odor....well, yet. She is a cat lady. She buys 2-3 40 lb boxes of kitty litter at a time. That's a lot of kitty litter. She's in every week at least once. I'm not sure how many cats this equates to exactly but I'm never really just in a hurry to have a chat with her.
Her voice makes me crazy.
She also can't or doesn't understand that she needs to enunciate her words. It all comes across as one big run-on word in a gravelly, adenoid monotone with a good measure of whining thrown in for further annoyance.
She once had a conversation with me about the tastiness of the bacon jerky the store sells. It went like this...
"Thatbaconjerkyissuhgood. CanIorderitbythecase. Ijuscan'tstopeatingitonceIstart. Ijuscan'tbelievehowgooooditis."
She is also the only person I have ever met who can stomach the disgusting, fatty bacon jerky. Everyone I have ever seen buy the wretched stuff has taken a bite, made the most awful "gross" face imaginable, spit it out, and taken a big drink of some sort of liquid, and has asked to return it. Some have even requested we pull it from the shelf it is so nasty. We always return it.
She rain checked ten bags. She spent $50 on inedible jerky.
It even looks gross. (It's not expired, its just how it is.) It looks like that half-cooked bacon you can buy at the grocery then run it through the microwave for thirty seconds to crisp it up and finish it cooking....yeah...limp, chewy and fatty...really, really gross. I refuse to touch and or taste it. It baffles me that once the people who buy it get a good look at it that they are adventurous enough to put it in their actual mouths.
Here is her other standard line.
"Canyouhelpmeliftthekittylitter. IbroketworibsandIcan'tliftannythingggg."
She broke her ribs two and a half years ago at least. Probably longer. I only know that the store has been open for that exact amount of time and she must be the world's slowest healer. If I ever quit I want to call her out on it. "No, I won't help you, how long does it take you to heal anyway? My dad broke ribs once, never stopped him from doing whatever the hell needed to be done no matter how much it hurt. A bone heals in 6-10 WEEKS lady...the 10 is for possible complications and slow healers. IT DOES NOT TAKE YEARS TO HEAL! Get your own kitty litter."
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
Derp Day
Today was definitely Derp Day at work. I was on the floor a grand total of maybe three hours on and off and did I get some idiots. I think the Team Lead was looking to commit customercide as he had to deal with them all day.
First I go to the register to help a guy locate some garden composters that are outside in the sidelot in plain sight but he couldn't find them, so I take him to them and since all the composters were priced, I thought that would be that unless he wanted me to load one in his car. No. He then asked how much they were "On Sale." I said that I didn't realize they were on sale, so let's go to the register and find out. I ask the Shitty One to type in the catalog number and, turns out the small composters are "On Sale" and the larger model he is interested in is still full price. He yells at us and walks out the front door. Fine. Awesome. I can totally control when corporate wants to run sales and which items corporate decides to put on sale. If I were that powerful lots of things would change in this particular company. Lots.
In the meantime I sell the ugliest trailer out front, dented, rusty, you name it, ugly, for $100 off (even though sometimes they go on sale for that price) and the guy was happy with me for taking $100 less out of his pocket and pulled away with no issues.
Brian is helping a man find out if a particular Cub Cadet mower can mow in reverse because the man who wants to buy it is pretty much completely paralyzed on the left side. Cub Cadet has the most unhelpful website ever.
Shitty One wants a break, Yeah, sure, fine, she's due and she hasn't been bugging me. So I give her a break.
Blonde Bimbo with raspy voice calls and wants to know if we are hiring. (I happen to know who this woman is by her voice because she's been trying to get hired at our store for 2.5 years. There's a reason she's not getting calls back.) Won't get off the phone even though I tell her we've just hired several people and that if she wants to fill out an app and bring it in, she can. Says she talked to our former manager who has been gone ages and ages. I totally don't care. Just hang up, lady, I've got a line, I'm ringing people out and you won't shut the hell up. If our former manager didn't even want to hire you, our new one really won't.
My line backs up, I have a guy waiting for a load out and I can tell he's in worse shape than usual. He's visibly shaking so no, I don't expect him to load his own pine shavings or even go retrieve them. The man is probably in his 70s. I page the Shitty One in hopes that she'll hear me and ask her to come in off her break. Nope. I page Brian even though I know he's still working on that lawnmower.
About the time Brian appears the Shitty One appears and they each grab a bag of shavings and help out the old timer. I get the line down.
Then some guy wants me to find him a lawnmower blade. I do. Then he wants me to find him a sparkplug but he doesn't know which sparkplug he needs. He doesn't even know which weedwhacker he owns when I ask. He asks if I can take apart the weedwhacker and tell him. I say no, we don't do that here, which is true, especially when we are busy, if we were slow I may have considered taking the time to deal with it. "Oh," he says, "I have the tools at home." I tell him we don't have the tools in the store. I'm sure we do, but we are selling them and I'll be damned if I'm going to be sucked into his madness.
Another customer wants me to order him a muffler for a Ford. Okay, I say, "What model Ford and which year?" The muffler catalog is really simple, sometimes years go into big chunks of say 30 or more years. He says it's a 4 cylinder Ford. Okay, but there are lots of those listed for all different types of mufflers with different size holes. He then looks at dimensions in the catalog when I ask again which model and year. He finds one he thinks he likes. I show him the corresponding muffler, which I have in stock. Nope, he says, its too small. "Sir," I say, "I'm sorry but without knowing which model Ford and the year it was made there is nothing I can do for you." He doesn't like that answer but doesn't give up and seeks out our manager who tells him the same thing.
I think I am going to reply to all stupid questions with:
First I go to the register to help a guy locate some garden composters that are outside in the sidelot in plain sight but he couldn't find them, so I take him to them and since all the composters were priced, I thought that would be that unless he wanted me to load one in his car. No. He then asked how much they were "On Sale." I said that I didn't realize they were on sale, so let's go to the register and find out. I ask the Shitty One to type in the catalog number and, turns out the small composters are "On Sale" and the larger model he is interested in is still full price. He yells at us and walks out the front door. Fine. Awesome. I can totally control when corporate wants to run sales and which items corporate decides to put on sale. If I were that powerful lots of things would change in this particular company. Lots.
In the meantime I sell the ugliest trailer out front, dented, rusty, you name it, ugly, for $100 off (even though sometimes they go on sale for that price) and the guy was happy with me for taking $100 less out of his pocket and pulled away with no issues.
Brian is helping a man find out if a particular Cub Cadet mower can mow in reverse because the man who wants to buy it is pretty much completely paralyzed on the left side. Cub Cadet has the most unhelpful website ever.
Shitty One wants a break, Yeah, sure, fine, she's due and she hasn't been bugging me. So I give her a break.
Blonde Bimbo with raspy voice calls and wants to know if we are hiring. (I happen to know who this woman is by her voice because she's been trying to get hired at our store for 2.5 years. There's a reason she's not getting calls back.) Won't get off the phone even though I tell her we've just hired several people and that if she wants to fill out an app and bring it in, she can. Says she talked to our former manager who has been gone ages and ages. I totally don't care. Just hang up, lady, I've got a line, I'm ringing people out and you won't shut the hell up. If our former manager didn't even want to hire you, our new one really won't.
My line backs up, I have a guy waiting for a load out and I can tell he's in worse shape than usual. He's visibly shaking so no, I don't expect him to load his own pine shavings or even go retrieve them. The man is probably in his 70s. I page the Shitty One in hopes that she'll hear me and ask her to come in off her break. Nope. I page Brian even though I know he's still working on that lawnmower.
About the time Brian appears the Shitty One appears and they each grab a bag of shavings and help out the old timer. I get the line down.
Then some guy wants me to find him a lawnmower blade. I do. Then he wants me to find him a sparkplug but he doesn't know which sparkplug he needs. He doesn't even know which weedwhacker he owns when I ask. He asks if I can take apart the weedwhacker and tell him. I say no, we don't do that here, which is true, especially when we are busy, if we were slow I may have considered taking the time to deal with it. "Oh," he says, "I have the tools at home." I tell him we don't have the tools in the store. I'm sure we do, but we are selling them and I'll be damned if I'm going to be sucked into his madness.
Another customer wants me to order him a muffler for a Ford. Okay, I say, "What model Ford and which year?" The muffler catalog is really simple, sometimes years go into big chunks of say 30 or more years. He says it's a 4 cylinder Ford. Okay, but there are lots of those listed for all different types of mufflers with different size holes. He then looks at dimensions in the catalog when I ask again which model and year. He finds one he thinks he likes. I show him the corresponding muffler, which I have in stock. Nope, he says, its too small. "Sir," I say, "I'm sorry but without knowing which model Ford and the year it was made there is nothing I can do for you." He doesn't like that answer but doesn't give up and seeks out our manager who tells him the same thing.
I think I am going to reply to all stupid questions with:
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Porky's Revenge?
Two weeks ago, a co-worker got a phone call asking if we sold pig feed for over-weight pigs; unfortunately that was the start of a grand adventure in annoyance. She told them we sold two different kinds of pig feed and that neither of them had any kind of weight loss formulation. Common sense would dictate--overweight pig--feed less food to the pig. But, then, we hadn't yet met these people.
WHAT I SEE IN MY IMAGINATION
An hour or so later, an older lady, a younger lady and a girl child approach me about dog harnesses. They are insistent that I somehow ascertain whether the largest dog harness would fit a mini pig. I direct the ladies to the measurements on the package, explain just exactly HOW the harness would fit on the animal, and tell them that unless they know the measurement of the pig's girth that I cannot tell them for certain if the largest harness we sell would fit the pig in question.
The store is, of course, full of people at the moment, and I scurry off on my next errand, thinking that the ladies had at least half a brain between them and could handle the question of the harness on their own.
Unfortunately, I was wrong. The next question I field is where the pig food is located. I direct the ladies to the aisle, and, as I am with another customer at the moment, leave it at that. They, of course, are apparently illiterate and once again ask me where the pig food is. I lead them TO THE BAG, point to the bag, and when the ladies STILL appear to be clueless, I tell them quite snarkily, with a big smile on my face that its the bag with the picture of the pig printed on the front. They do not notice I am questioning their intelligence.
YEP, MINI PIG FOOD, YOU GUESSED IT!
The ladies then tell me that they are pig sitting while someone is out of town and need a pig brush and some water and food bowls. I tell them quite honestly that I don't know much about pigs having never owned any and that I would assume they would want to use a soft brush on a pig because their skin is more close to human skin than almost any other animal. As for food and water dishes, I would assume a pig isn't going to be too finicky about what it eats from as long as it can get its snoot in there, all should be good.
I then hear a page that some one needs a load out, someone needs this, someone needs that. I take off to address some of these new pages. The phone is also ringing incessantly because all of us are busy with customers. I think these folks can handle this debacle of food and water dishes on their own.
HOW I STILL SEE PHONES IN MY IMAGINATION
I finally escape from the phones and loading things and decide I am going to sneak off and go to lunch because I'm getting cranky from all the dumb questions and absolute lazy idiots who somehow need bags loaded into their cars and yet they all have 6,000 horses or chickens. Who feeds these animals? Do they just open up the car/suv/truck and let them nom off the floor/bed so they don't have to unload bags?
I head up to the register to buy something while I am clocked out and here come these damn Pig People again. I am just in line waiting my turn, the phone is still ringing off the hook, all three lines going, and this woman seriously can't figure out what kind of bowl to put pig food in. She's talking to me, I tell her that the water bowl should be larger, because its water and animals generally need more water than food, the phone is just making me so mad I could spit, so I grab it to shut it up, answer the call, put the guy on hold, explain politely to the woman, that I'm at lunch and not on the clock anymore and she rolls her eyes at me.
PIG PERSON
I then think I should just run her over with the hi lo, but go about buying my stuff and heading to the break room for lunch. Meanwhile, the Pig People have cornered my manager who is explaining things in much the same way I had already explained and he then asks me about pig brushes. And I say, well, I'm sorry but I already told the ladies that I didn't know much about pigs and that a softer bristled one would probably be best and that I am at lunch.
PIG LADY GOES SQUISH
I clock back in after lunch and my manager is chain-smoking out the back door and sighing because the Pig People were irritating to him, as well. I tell him that if these ladies are pig sitting, why don't they ask the pig's owner all the specifics and why isn't the owner supplying food, brushes, dishes, leashes, whatever the pig will need?
It just sounds weird. I know if I am dog-sitting I want the food the dog is currently on and any and all pertinent information such as can the dog be left alone without pissing on my floor for up to 10 hours? If not, you may have to find another dog sitter because I am at work for a long time during the day.
My friend Ruth suggested that the pig-napped a mini pig and that is why they are so clueless. I begin to believe she is one hundred percent accurate.
PIG NAPPING IN PROGRESS
I had thought we had seen the last of the Pig People. No, of course not.
Today, the Pig People were back with a vengeance.
I was asked if we sold Pig Lotion. When I informed the Pig People that the only balms/lotions we sold were Dairy Mint, Bag Balm and Udder Delight back in the pharmaceuticals aisle and Working Hands up at the register they looked a bit miffed. I, for one, have no idea what Pig Lotion is. I assume they are wanting to slather lotion on this poor pig.
PIG LOTION?
The Pig People then went on their way, and I went on mine. Yes!!! ESCAPE!!!
But not for long. Yenkel happened upon the Pig People and they were inquiring about pig veterinarians. Yenkel told them he didn't know of any veterinarians that specialized in pigs. And I told them I only knew of Dr. Hermann who mostly specializes in dogs and cats but that usually they are trained a little bit in all animals. This, of course, didn't satisfy.
I went on my merry way....
SKIPPING HAPPILY, TRA LA
Come to find out the PIG PEOPLE had asked EVERYONE in the store including the new girl whose first day was today and Pam was training at the register.
I merely said, "Did you see?" to my manager and he shook his head and said, "Oh, yes, they were asking more weird questions for the pig they are babysitting."
MAYBE THIS IS WHAT THEY MEAN BY PIG SITTING?
An hour or so later, an older lady, a younger lady and a girl child approach me about dog harnesses. They are insistent that I somehow ascertain whether the largest dog harness would fit a mini pig. I direct the ladies to the measurements on the package, explain just exactly HOW the harness would fit on the animal, and tell them that unless they know the measurement of the pig's girth that I cannot tell them for certain if the largest harness we sell would fit the pig in question.
The store is, of course, full of people at the moment, and I scurry off on my next errand, thinking that the ladies had at least half a brain between them and could handle the question of the harness on their own.
Unfortunately, I was wrong. The next question I field is where the pig food is located. I direct the ladies to the aisle, and, as I am with another customer at the moment, leave it at that. They, of course, are apparently illiterate and once again ask me where the pig food is. I lead them TO THE BAG, point to the bag, and when the ladies STILL appear to be clueless, I tell them quite snarkily, with a big smile on my face that its the bag with the picture of the pig printed on the front. They do not notice I am questioning their intelligence.
The ladies then tell me that they are pig sitting while someone is out of town and need a pig brush and some water and food bowls. I tell them quite honestly that I don't know much about pigs having never owned any and that I would assume they would want to use a soft brush on a pig because their skin is more close to human skin than almost any other animal. As for food and water dishes, I would assume a pig isn't going to be too finicky about what it eats from as long as it can get its snoot in there, all should be good.
I then hear a page that some one needs a load out, someone needs this, someone needs that. I take off to address some of these new pages. The phone is also ringing incessantly because all of us are busy with customers. I think these folks can handle this debacle of food and water dishes on their own.
I finally escape from the phones and loading things and decide I am going to sneak off and go to lunch because I'm getting cranky from all the dumb questions and absolute lazy idiots who somehow need bags loaded into their cars and yet they all have 6,000 horses or chickens. Who feeds these animals? Do they just open up the car/suv/truck and let them nom off the floor/bed so they don't have to unload bags?
I head up to the register to buy something while I am clocked out and here come these damn Pig People again. I am just in line waiting my turn, the phone is still ringing off the hook, all three lines going, and this woman seriously can't figure out what kind of bowl to put pig food in. She's talking to me, I tell her that the water bowl should be larger, because its water and animals generally need more water than food, the phone is just making me so mad I could spit, so I grab it to shut it up, answer the call, put the guy on hold, explain politely to the woman, that I'm at lunch and not on the clock anymore and she rolls her eyes at me.
I then think I should just run her over with the hi lo, but go about buying my stuff and heading to the break room for lunch. Meanwhile, the Pig People have cornered my manager who is explaining things in much the same way I had already explained and he then asks me about pig brushes. And I say, well, I'm sorry but I already told the ladies that I didn't know much about pigs and that a softer bristled one would probably be best and that I am at lunch.
I clock back in after lunch and my manager is chain-smoking out the back door and sighing because the Pig People were irritating to him, as well. I tell him that if these ladies are pig sitting, why don't they ask the pig's owner all the specifics and why isn't the owner supplying food, brushes, dishes, leashes, whatever the pig will need?
It just sounds weird. I know if I am dog-sitting I want the food the dog is currently on and any and all pertinent information such as can the dog be left alone without pissing on my floor for up to 10 hours? If not, you may have to find another dog sitter because I am at work for a long time during the day.
My friend Ruth suggested that the pig-napped a mini pig and that is why they are so clueless. I begin to believe she is one hundred percent accurate.
I had thought we had seen the last of the Pig People. No, of course not.
Today, the Pig People were back with a vengeance.
I was asked if we sold Pig Lotion. When I informed the Pig People that the only balms/lotions we sold were Dairy Mint, Bag Balm and Udder Delight back in the pharmaceuticals aisle and Working Hands up at the register they looked a bit miffed. I, for one, have no idea what Pig Lotion is. I assume they are wanting to slather lotion on this poor pig.
The Pig People then went on their way, and I went on mine. Yes!!! ESCAPE!!!
But not for long. Yenkel happened upon the Pig People and they were inquiring about pig veterinarians. Yenkel told them he didn't know of any veterinarians that specialized in pigs. And I told them I only knew of Dr. Hermann who mostly specializes in dogs and cats but that usually they are trained a little bit in all animals. This, of course, didn't satisfy.
I went on my merry way....
Come to find out the PIG PEOPLE had asked EVERYONE in the store including the new girl whose first day was today and Pam was training at the register.
I merely said, "Did you see?" to my manager and he shook his head and said, "Oh, yes, they were asking more weird questions for the pig they are babysitting."
Sunday, February 3, 2013
Saturday
Numerous customers Saturday made me fear for the future of the human race.
Having been asked to unlock various cases all day long, I ran into a woman requesting horse dewormer. I said, sure, I'd unlock it, and that I would be right back with the keys. When I returned with the keys, a minute later, she had vanished. I then spent the next five minutes searching for her and was about to give up and go back to pushing freight when she turned up. I figured she must not want dewomer too badly if she couldn't hover around the general area for a moment.
Fielding several complaints about the lack of fire starters, stove pipe, and selection of various styles of heaters due to the cold, DESPITE it being obvious that weed killers, bug killers, dirt, and push mowers had been moved into the seasonal area, I lost patience after the 20th person whined that it was only February and kind of snapped back that bikinis are hitting the stores now, too. It's the way retail has always worked. It's the same pattern every year. There are two distinct seasons in retail: Summer and Christmas and I, for one, am relieved to see the summer things after the horrible season of stupid toys and stupid brats looking at stupid toys.
I did find some enjoyment in the lack of available carts for customer use since they were mostly piled in freight. Less of carts were left in the parking lot and customers actually had to go OUTSIDE and retrieve carts if they wanted a cart at certain periods during the day.
And then, there are the idiots who block the main, wide aisle by the magazine rack, just reading and conversing with pals no matter who wants down the aisle. Oh, someone wants a load out of 15 bags of horse feed? Nah, whatever, we'll just stand here and talk until you threaten to run us down with a cart.
Come to discover while asking for zip codes that loads of these idiots were from the Howell area. Now, why the hell were they at our store? Go back to Howell and play your douche bag mind games there.
I hate customers. I barely even look at them any more and have trouble remembering who I've helped, and who needs help. They are nameless, faceless hoards of whining, idiotic, helpless drones who think that just because they shop at the store that I am their slave. On days, when I cannot help myself, I tell them things to their faces while wearing a smile and they don't even know that I am insulting them. How can they be that dumb?
I need a new job. Badly. Before I mow someone down intentionally with a feed cart, shopping cart, or simply knee them in the balls.
Having been asked to unlock various cases all day long, I ran into a woman requesting horse dewormer. I said, sure, I'd unlock it, and that I would be right back with the keys. When I returned with the keys, a minute later, she had vanished. I then spent the next five minutes searching for her and was about to give up and go back to pushing freight when she turned up. I figured she must not want dewomer too badly if she couldn't hover around the general area for a moment.
Fielding several complaints about the lack of fire starters, stove pipe, and selection of various styles of heaters due to the cold, DESPITE it being obvious that weed killers, bug killers, dirt, and push mowers had been moved into the seasonal area, I lost patience after the 20th person whined that it was only February and kind of snapped back that bikinis are hitting the stores now, too. It's the way retail has always worked. It's the same pattern every year. There are two distinct seasons in retail: Summer and Christmas and I, for one, am relieved to see the summer things after the horrible season of stupid toys and stupid brats looking at stupid toys.
I did find some enjoyment in the lack of available carts for customer use since they were mostly piled in freight. Less of carts were left in the parking lot and customers actually had to go OUTSIDE and retrieve carts if they wanted a cart at certain periods during the day.
And then, there are the idiots who block the main, wide aisle by the magazine rack, just reading and conversing with pals no matter who wants down the aisle. Oh, someone wants a load out of 15 bags of horse feed? Nah, whatever, we'll just stand here and talk until you threaten to run us down with a cart.
Come to discover while asking for zip codes that loads of these idiots were from the Howell area. Now, why the hell were they at our store? Go back to Howell and play your douche bag mind games there.
I hate customers. I barely even look at them any more and have trouble remembering who I've helped, and who needs help. They are nameless, faceless hoards of whining, idiotic, helpless drones who think that just because they shop at the store that I am their slave. On days, when I cannot help myself, I tell them things to their faces while wearing a smile and they don't even know that I am insulting them. How can they be that dumb?
I need a new job. Badly. Before I mow someone down intentionally with a feed cart, shopping cart, or simply knee them in the balls.
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Parasites, Designer Carhartts, and Cash Money
I should have my work schedule plotted by moon phases. I admit I have no idea what moon phase we are in at this second, but its a hangnail looking phase instead of the usual full moon phase I already know brings out the weirdos. I have been known to request full moon days off.
Today, I walked to the register to relieve Pam for her break, and a woman brandishing a clear plastic vial asks us to play "Name That Parasite." Yep. She has vial with worms inside it. I refused to play along, because we do not have or sell fecal testing kits...also, what if I was wrong and she treats her dog for the WRONG parasite? I suggested she seek a vet for their expert opinion. Pam immediately volunteers our Asst. Manager to play the guessing game. I couldn't relay to Pam why I didn't want to play the game without the customer overhearing. ASM plays along and diagnoses a tapeworm. I don't know whether the woman stole the worm meds or we were out of them, but she didn't buy any.
I later run into a man who is returning Carharrt bibs. The crotch zipper is broken. He has his receipt and we offer to exchange them, despite the selection being very picked over. He starts going through the bibs and begins sighing that we don't have the size he needs in black, he's very specific that it needs to be black...because his coat is black. The bibs we are returning are encrusted with mud, so I didn't think he'd be very picky what color he could get so long as he was warm while playing in the mud. But he keeps whining about them needing to be black. He finally selects a pair of Artic lined and bitches that they are more expensive. I tell him that he had bought the defective Carhartts at full price and that the entire selection is now 30% off so they would be the same price. It took some doing to convince him of this. I don't understand....be warm...and mismatched---or cold and miserable--really---what breed of idiot is this man?
Near closing time, I run into a lady who expounded quite psychotically about why she likes to pay for things in cash. Not the usual reasons, I'm afraid. Oh, no...she likes to use cash because our bank accounts and our Social Security numbers and our health insurance is all linked due to Obama Care...in some weird gobbledygook scheme that is possibly true, but I couldn't follow the line of reasoning. And that ultimately the government wants to ban all cash transactions so they can better control us all. So, if I do something radical, the government can determine whether I can buy food or not and just close or freeze my access to money. Okay, that part made some kind of sense...but I don't think the American people are ever going to stand for not having a cash option. However, I'd like to have heard her expound on the cash back option and why, then, the government is allowing THAT. And I'd like to have her her explain then, how SHE would buy or sell anything if cash were BANNED and the use of it a felony. I'm sure she couldn't barter her body for anything unless it was to a real freak. She then proceeded to ask Amber K and I if we were religious. I didn't reply. Amber said she Believes. The crazy then asked us to read some passage or other in Revelation...about not being able to buy and sell things and it being the end times...I thought about asking what this mean to Atheists...but thought better of it as I was tired of her brand of crazy at this point.
Amber and I shared a look...and after the lady walked out the door, Amber made an incredulous face and said "No wonder you said you were fine at the registers because you were entertaining yourself."
Yep. All the people were crazies today.
Today, I walked to the register to relieve Pam for her break, and a woman brandishing a clear plastic vial asks us to play "Name That Parasite." Yep. She has vial with worms inside it. I refused to play along, because we do not have or sell fecal testing kits...also, what if I was wrong and she treats her dog for the WRONG parasite? I suggested she seek a vet for their expert opinion. Pam immediately volunteers our Asst. Manager to play the guessing game. I couldn't relay to Pam why I didn't want to play the game without the customer overhearing. ASM plays along and diagnoses a tapeworm. I don't know whether the woman stole the worm meds or we were out of them, but she didn't buy any.
I later run into a man who is returning Carharrt bibs. The crotch zipper is broken. He has his receipt and we offer to exchange them, despite the selection being very picked over. He starts going through the bibs and begins sighing that we don't have the size he needs in black, he's very specific that it needs to be black...because his coat is black. The bibs we are returning are encrusted with mud, so I didn't think he'd be very picky what color he could get so long as he was warm while playing in the mud. But he keeps whining about them needing to be black. He finally selects a pair of Artic lined and bitches that they are more expensive. I tell him that he had bought the defective Carhartts at full price and that the entire selection is now 30% off so they would be the same price. It took some doing to convince him of this. I don't understand....be warm...and mismatched---or cold and miserable--really---what breed of idiot is this man?
Near closing time, I run into a lady who expounded quite psychotically about why she likes to pay for things in cash. Not the usual reasons, I'm afraid. Oh, no...she likes to use cash because our bank accounts and our Social Security numbers and our health insurance is all linked due to Obama Care...in some weird gobbledygook scheme that is possibly true, but I couldn't follow the line of reasoning. And that ultimately the government wants to ban all cash transactions so they can better control us all. So, if I do something radical, the government can determine whether I can buy food or not and just close or freeze my access to money. Okay, that part made some kind of sense...but I don't think the American people are ever going to stand for not having a cash option. However, I'd like to have heard her expound on the cash back option and why, then, the government is allowing THAT. And I'd like to have her her explain then, how SHE would buy or sell anything if cash were BANNED and the use of it a felony. I'm sure she couldn't barter her body for anything unless it was to a real freak. She then proceeded to ask Amber K and I if we were religious. I didn't reply. Amber said she Believes. The crazy then asked us to read some passage or other in Revelation...about not being able to buy and sell things and it being the end times...I thought about asking what this mean to Atheists...but thought better of it as I was tired of her brand of crazy at this point.
Amber and I shared a look...and after the lady walked out the door, Amber made an incredulous face and said "No wonder you said you were fine at the registers because you were entertaining yourself."
Yep. All the people were crazies today.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Pet Peeves of Retail
If I ever somehow open my own business, I want to run it like the Soup Nazi from Seinfeld. You pissed me off, oh well, NO SOUP FOR YOU!!!
Here are the things that most commonly piss me off.
1. Customers too busy talking or texting to actually pay attention to what I am saying, what they are doing, and who, because they cannot disconnect for three seconds ultimately hold up the checklanes for their fellow customers. I really think cell phones are becoming mind control for the stupid. Soon they will tell people when to shit and piss.
2. People who can't figure out how to use the credit/debit machine. Not all of these are folks of a certain age. An appalling amount of young people can't be bothered to actually read onscreen prompts and act accordingly. If you are illiterate, please use cash as I am tired of instructing you how to use a machine that a drunk, literate monkey could operate.
3. When I announce "I can help the NEXT person in line" it doesn't mean the last person in line. It means the NEXT person. I seriously nearly yelled at some old biddy today for doing this...the decongestants I am taking do nothing for my tolerance levels. I seriously thought about bludgeoning her with the shirt and peanut brittle she was returning. Who the hell returns unopened boxes of peanut brittle? A rude old lady who smells of Eau d' Skank, that's who.
4. If you use a cart, put it back. If anyone ever wonders why I refuse to get carts in inclement weather, and there are no carts inside, wonder no more. If they're all outside, I figure I can gather them all once, at the end of the night and be done with it. I don't care if they are wet or snow covered. We don't employ cart people. The cashier is supposed to round them up and lots of times, the cashier is too busy dealing with other idiots. I also laugh when I see carts hit the cars in the parking lot. I figure one of these times its got to hit the car of an asshole who won't put a cart back...there are soooooo many.
5. Don't engage me in a 20 minute conversation about your dog/child/chickens while there is a person behind you carrying a 50 pound bag. I don't care and neither does the person behind you. I'm sure your dog/child/chickens are quite fascinating and I'd be happy to listen if only there wasn't a line and I was extremely bored which does happen. Pick your moments.
6. Ever go into a store and wonder why some noise-making part of the item is broken? I can tell you why. Parents won't stop their kids from ringing things such as bells on bikes...I am seriously tempted to break a bell on a tricycle because some idiot let their kid ring it for an hour. I work with another employee who sabotaged a horn on a pedal cart for the same reason.
7. Parents who let their kid carry some item around (that the kid clearly thinks they are going to buy) then takes it away at the register. Just tell the brat "No" in the first place. Being a parent is not a democracy; its a dictatorship.
8. People who complain that I hand their checks back. Sorry. It works like a debit card. I explained this to you when I saw a debit card in your wallet. Debit cards are less time consuming and less expensive to use. It is not my fault you are dumb.
9. People who think I can get them a certain size Carhartt anything in a certain color at the END OF THE SEASON!!!! Yep, I know, its January, and all the signs say 30% OFF, but its because we're getting ready to put away all the winter stuff and start on spring. I can't even special order Carhartts. Period. NOT AVAILABLE FROM THE MANUFACTURER. So you should have bought that ugly bubblegum pink Carhartt jacket and bibs wayyyy back in October when we had them in all sizes.
10. Those who think my register is a shopping cart. Ummm.....no...you can't pile all your crap here...I am trying to work. GO GET A CART!!!!!!!! Or, maybe pile it on the register that is NOT BEING USED!!!!
Here are the things that most commonly piss me off.
1. Customers too busy talking or texting to actually pay attention to what I am saying, what they are doing, and who, because they cannot disconnect for three seconds ultimately hold up the checklanes for their fellow customers. I really think cell phones are becoming mind control for the stupid. Soon they will tell people when to shit and piss.
2. People who can't figure out how to use the credit/debit machine. Not all of these are folks of a certain age. An appalling amount of young people can't be bothered to actually read onscreen prompts and act accordingly. If you are illiterate, please use cash as I am tired of instructing you how to use a machine that a drunk, literate monkey could operate.
3. When I announce "I can help the NEXT person in line" it doesn't mean the last person in line. It means the NEXT person. I seriously nearly yelled at some old biddy today for doing this...the decongestants I am taking do nothing for my tolerance levels. I seriously thought about bludgeoning her with the shirt and peanut brittle she was returning. Who the hell returns unopened boxes of peanut brittle? A rude old lady who smells of Eau d' Skank, that's who.
4. If you use a cart, put it back. If anyone ever wonders why I refuse to get carts in inclement weather, and there are no carts inside, wonder no more. If they're all outside, I figure I can gather them all once, at the end of the night and be done with it. I don't care if they are wet or snow covered. We don't employ cart people. The cashier is supposed to round them up and lots of times, the cashier is too busy dealing with other idiots. I also laugh when I see carts hit the cars in the parking lot. I figure one of these times its got to hit the car of an asshole who won't put a cart back...there are soooooo many.
5. Don't engage me in a 20 minute conversation about your dog/child/chickens while there is a person behind you carrying a 50 pound bag. I don't care and neither does the person behind you. I'm sure your dog/child/chickens are quite fascinating and I'd be happy to listen if only there wasn't a line and I was extremely bored which does happen. Pick your moments.
6. Ever go into a store and wonder why some noise-making part of the item is broken? I can tell you why. Parents won't stop their kids from ringing things such as bells on bikes...I am seriously tempted to break a bell on a tricycle because some idiot let their kid ring it for an hour. I work with another employee who sabotaged a horn on a pedal cart for the same reason.
7. Parents who let their kid carry some item around (that the kid clearly thinks they are going to buy) then takes it away at the register. Just tell the brat "No" in the first place. Being a parent is not a democracy; its a dictatorship.
8. People who complain that I hand their checks back. Sorry. It works like a debit card. I explained this to you when I saw a debit card in your wallet. Debit cards are less time consuming and less expensive to use. It is not my fault you are dumb.
9. People who think I can get them a certain size Carhartt anything in a certain color at the END OF THE SEASON!!!! Yep, I know, its January, and all the signs say 30% OFF, but its because we're getting ready to put away all the winter stuff and start on spring. I can't even special order Carhartts. Period. NOT AVAILABLE FROM THE MANUFACTURER. So you should have bought that ugly bubblegum pink Carhartt jacket and bibs wayyyy back in October when we had them in all sizes.
10. Those who think my register is a shopping cart. Ummm.....no...you can't pile all your crap here...I am trying to work. GO GET A CART!!!!!!!! Or, maybe pile it on the register that is NOT BEING USED!!!!
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