More shopping douchebags
Ok, listen, lady, I don’t know what spilled in your shopping cart. I certainly didn’t spill it there. You know what? Only one person has had control of your shopping cart since you got here, so if theres “some kind of lotion” spilled on the clothes you were gonna buy, I’ll give you three fucking guesses who put it there, and if you guess ME, I’m going to light you on fucking fire. (I’ve done it before.)
So if you hadn’t guessed, I got to spend a couple days “filling in” on a cash register. While its not my normal job, it’s one of those tasks everyone is expected to know how to do, and suck it up and do on occasion. After tomorrow I will never have to do it again (booya lateral promotion) but for now lets talk about what I’ve learned. And I’ve mostly learned that you’re all retarded. So lets go over some “check-lane etiquette:”
Use the goddamned dividers.
If you’re too fucking lazy to use that thing, don’t dare get bitchy with me when the belt shoves your stuff right up to me and I start scanning it in with the previous person’s order. Fuck you, and fuck them too. While we’re on belt etiquette, is you pile all your stuff on the belt in a heap, that’s exactly how it’s going in the bags. The end.
Get off your fucking cellphone.
Just like when driving, there is shit going on here that demands your attention. Mostly its just that I need you to fucking pay so the sorry schlep behind you in line can get their chance to annoy me. And here’s a fun tidbit for you: did you know that most cashiers are rated (and rewarded or punished) by their speed rating? Did you know that it doesn’t stop timing them after they hit the “total” button? So while you’re finishing your call, or fumbling around for change in the bottom of your huge fuck-all purse, or writing out that check you could have filled out all of except for the total while you were waiting, they sorry sucker that’s trying to help you is being punished for your dallying. Not to mention everyone else behind you in the queue. And while the cashier is supposed to engage a customer in some type of small talk, if someone is on a cellphone I usually won’t make eye-contact with them. Because fuck you, that’s why.
Handling Money:
Here’s a favorite: When I give you the total and you throw your money at me, or drop it on the counter as I’m reaching over to take it from your hand. I mean, seriously there, Howie Mandell, the money I’m giving back to you is where the germs are, not on my hands. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve fought back the urge to ball up your change and drop it on the floor in front of you and say “sorry” as sarcastically as possible. Oh, and another thing, if you want to scrutinize your receipt because you’re a nasty curmudgeon who thinks everyone is out to screw you, at least take two steps forward so I can start screwing, er, assisting the next person in line. You do realize what you’re doing is tantamount to calling me a liar to my face, right?
In closing, if you ever shop for things, I probably hate you.
