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2003-11-12 23:39:19 (UTC)

Stories from work

I've decided, there are five types of people you have to
deal with in retail.

First, there are the regular joes, the ones who take their
carts back to the cart returns and leave. Not the
greatest, but definitely not bad people.

Then there are the people touched with divinity who
actually bring their carts back into the store
themselves. I would get on my knees and worship such a

Then, there are the heartless cruel bastards deserving of
a slow-as-possible and excrutiatingly painful death who
leave their carts sitting out in the middle of the fucking
parking lot. These people are the spawn of Satan, plain
and simple.

Next come the bastards who are wheeling their cart into
the lot while I'm busy bringing carts in. When I ask them
if they'd like help unloading, they decline and go right
on. This group is just as bad as the previous, just in a
different way. You people need to understand something.
When I ask if you'd like help unloading your cart while
I'm bringing others in, only part of the reason I'm doing
it is because it's my job. It may be out of the
benevelonce of my heart every once in a while, but not
often. The main reason I ask you this is quite simple to
grasp. I'm taking the last load of carts in, and I don't
want to come back outside again to grab the one fucking
cart you leave out in the parking lot! When I ask if I
can help, it's not because I want to help, it's because I
don't want to work my ass more than I already am! CURSE

Finally, we come to those people who leave their cart in
the middle of the lobby at the store entrance--effectively
blocking transportation between the two sides without
going all the way out and around the fucking doors. These
people aren't quite as bad as the last two, but they're
close. They all deserve to be beat within an inch of
their life by large, heavy, blunt object. Something
similar to the way George Carlin described what would
effectively floor the "big bad biker" with the tattoo of
barbed-wire on his arm.

You know, I realized today that a job can be a great place
to find new material for rants. Aside from what I've
already gone off on, some gimpy Mexican guy today parked
his limo in the cart return space right out front of the
store. Why he didn't just park in the handicapped parking
is beyond me. Anyway, the cops showed up after he got
there and was in the store, then waited for him outside
the store. Well, they were waiting when I checked,
anyway. I helped him out of the store and put his stuff
away, and when that happened the cops weren't there
anymore. I didn't see them, anyway.

Apparently, I missed an eventful evening last night. Kim--
who has somewhat "affectionately" nicknamed me Rudolph
(due to my tendency to go out in the cooler weather
without a jacket and come back in with red skin)--told me
about it this morning. Apparently, a girl she knows went
up to the register to try to distract her, and after she
got change for a dollar or something, she walked out with
some guy who had a cart full of groceries and beer. It
took them a moment to realize the people were shoplifting,
then Kim called the cops and Marcy ran out the door after
them. One of the guys threatened to shoot Marcy, but
obviously didn't have the capability as they then picked
up some of the large rocks by the side of the store and
threw them at her. To my knowledge, none of them hit,

Anyway, the kids apparently lived in the apartments right
behind Smith's, so the cops found and jailed them. I'm
glad they got them, and I'm really not surprised. Did the
girl think Kim wouldn't recognize her or something?
Sounds kind of dumb to me. That would be akin to my going
to Evil-Mart and shoplifting while Andy's working, it just
wouldn't work. Not that I would ever do that. It may not
be my favorite place in the world, but it's not that bad,
and I'm sure as hell not willing to put my future, Andy
and I's friendship, and everything else that would be
riding on it for something as stupid as that.

Anyway, I'm going to run Mrs. LaForge's script back to her-
-finally. I know, I know. Hey, at least I'm getting it
to her. I think then I'll come home and crash. I'm so
fucking tired.

Jessica gave me the impression that she might be hanging
out with me this weekend instead of going to the dance.
Of course, her parents don't need to know this, and I
won't complain at all if she does decide that. Hopefully
she'll get to meet the guys if they can come over Saturday

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