Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Getting Acquanted Through Teachable Moments

What's the best way to get to know the locals when you've moved to a CrazyHellTown? If you answered anything but: Go ballistic on them in the Natural Grocers, you are totally lame.

Imagine you're in the Natural Grocers. You just stopped by the Thrift Store where you found a pair of knee high boots. They were very much too small (they're a nine, you wear a ten and a half), but you were in a weird mood and bought them anyway.

Not only that, you've complimented your outfit with a short stripey dress that is just fabulous (even if it kinda, completely shows the front of your bra 90% of the time you're wearing it). You also put your hair in pigtails because it seemed to complete the outfit.

So there I was, dressed to the nines, waiting in line behind two other people. I've never in my life worn boots before due to my stringent requirement that anything I wear be easy to get on and be totally comfortable. What it looks like comes in a very distant second.

However my amazing find at the Thrift Store changed all that. Sadly, in the time it took me to walk from my apartment to the car to the Natural Grocers, my feet have become bones surrounded by festering blisters and the boots have completely filled with sweat.

Needless to say I was already a little cranky.

Enter: Crazy Old Bitch.

Crazy Old Bitch thought three people in front of her was way too fucking many.

"Why don't you call up another cashier!" She suggested to the clerk.

Having worked in the customer service industry myself, I never would have done such a thing. As far as I was concerned, as a cashier, tolerating you as I checked and bagged your groceries was very generous on my part. Any extra requests lead directly to me wanting to snap your head off.

The clerk gave the COB a look that said, 'I want to snap that bobbly old head right off your fucking neck', but called for backup anyway, cause that's the kind of thing we have to do for you fucktard customers.

As we waited for this mysterious backup to appear, COB seemed to be starting to inch ahead of me toward the soon to be opened lane. I was really hoping she wasn't. I could not see anything involving her trying to cut in front of me ending well for either of us.

Because it appeared that all that was in her cart was a box full of re-usable grocery bags I gave her the benefit of the doubt.

However I was on high alert in case she tried anything funny.

Backup came.

"I can help who's next." He said, making eye contact with boots and pigtail-clad yours truly.

And in that instant it became abundantly clear that COB thought she was going first. She made this clear by making a rush for the newly opened lane.

Oh. Hell. No.

On any other day I probably would have let it go. But for some reason, today was different.

COB was sadly mistaken if she thought she was going ahead of me, my pigtails, my short stripey dress, and my tall uncomfortable boots. I barged in front of her dragging Manfriend and our cart along behind.

COB took this as a personal affront, which was exactly as I meant it. I should have congratulated her for getting at least one thing right that day.

ManFriend began putting our groceries on the belt as I went down to pay.

"That's alright!" COB said as she followed us, "Next time call your own cashier though!" She said.

ManFriend smiled, visibly freaked out.

"I know you meant to say thank you, it's alright you didn't!" COB said, refusing to let it go.

At this point I could take it no more.

I leaned over the credit card machine, "We were ahead of you! We were before you in line! That is why he called us over!"

"Yes, I motioned for you to come over." The clerk affirmed.

"Yes! That's right!" I said, because he was so totally right! Shouting it at him might not have been the best way to show it though.

"But you didn't call for a cashier! I know you meant to thank me, but you didn't!" COB argued.

"Well, that's because we were perfectly happy waiting in line! But since you weren't, thank you! Thank you very, very much!"

ManFriend later said that I sounded 'manic'. By 'manic' he meant he thought I might go completely berserk on that woman.

He also said I should have just let her go first, which is what he was planning on doing.

I said I could not possibly have done that because she needed to be taught a lesson. And if I've learned anything during my week of rigorous teacher training it's that teaching crazy old bitches lessons is some High Impact Teaching Shizznaat!

I'm ready for my classroom now.


James said...

I fucking love this post. You are the much cooler version of me.

SuperFantabulous said...

Oh, hush. Just wait till your my age, you're coolness will have blossomed into a supernova of pure 'Oh,snap-age'