Now I’m gonna rant about work. I need to let off steam.

So, you know what really ticks me off? Customers with attitudes. They have this air of entitlement, like everything should be handed to them on a silver platter. Now, I am NOT racist, heck some of my favorite coworkers are black (like Chris, and Marcellus, and Brooklyn), but I tell you, the black ladies with foodstamps are some of the most arrogant people on the face of the Earth. Now, a lot of my customers who are black are really really nice and friendly, but THEEEESE ladies, oh no, they just wish to make my working experience a living hell. They barge in the lane, 10 to 1 they’re gonna be wearing a poofy jacket from South Pole that’s 5 sizes too small for them, screaming at their kids to “SHUT UP” while they’re on the phone yelling at their girlfriend about how their boyfriend is a lazy no-good idiot, using the most foul language you’ve ever heard. I ask them politely “Do you have your customer discount card with you today?” tossing me a glance filled with disdain, they pitch their card across the counter, pursing their lips and bobbing their heads, still ranting at their friends on the phone. They’ve brought 3 carts of groceries into my lane, all piled high with groceries. I spot maybe 3 vegetables. One cart is filled to the brim with literally nothing but junk food. Ho-Hos, Twinkies, the works. *sigh* Oh well. I don’t mind….yet. I begin scanning at a quick pace, working my way through the mounds of sweets. They stop me mid-swipe though, yelling “Um, scuse me, don’t scan like that, I wanna see what you ringin’ up, make sure you ain’t cheatin’ me.” Then they peer at the screen, stopping me every 3 seconds with a “Oh no, that price ain’t right!” and then I have to explain exactly how the scanner works, and why things are ringing up the way they do, and that, lo and behold, the price is actually RIGHT. (could it be that I actually know how to do my job??!?!!?) As we move on, my poor courtesy clerk is buried under a heap of rubble (commonly known as groceries). I know they will make it through though, I’ve been there. The thing is, these wooooonderful ladies refuse to give him their now empty cart. He is now surrounded by stacks of bagged groceries, with nowhere to put them and more coming down the belt. But I can’t stop for him, or the wooooonderful, graceful women in my lane will become excruciatingly impatient. If I stop scanning without them hailing me to (which happens every three seconds anyway), I will get a firestorm of “What you stopping fo’? Lazy-@$$ punk b****, yo’ need to learn how ta WORK! I need ta’ talk to yo’ manager.” …Yeah. You get the picture. Anyway, after he has managed to wrestle a cart from one of them, my courtesy clerk starts putting their bags in. But NOOOOOOOOOOOO, for heaven’s sake, he’s doing it WRONG! He gets an earful, I get an earful, everyone gets an earful about how these omniscient ladies know EVERYTHING about the mechanics of loading groceries into carts, and how he’d “Bettah not crack mah eggs, or I get dem free, little punk.” After we make it through that….adventure, I have discovered that I have succeeded in scanning every last thing in all of their carts! HUZZAH! It’s like conquering Mount Everest! I bask in the glory……until I’m deflated by an “Oh dang, dat’s expensive, we need to take some off, like $200 worth off….yo’ seriously need ta lowah yo’ prices, daaaaaang.” FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU…………………………….. *eyes turn red with rage* If you didn’t have the money, WHY ARE YOU BUYING $300 WORTH OF TWINKIES?!?!?!? I manage to retain my calm demeanor though, and begin voiding items. Oh, the tedious task….but, after what seems like decades, I manage to bring the price down to something they can afford. They told me to take off everything…except those thrice-damned Twinkies. *sigh* Oh well, it’s their funeral. Here we go, we’re paying for the groceries now. And lo and behold, what would they pay with but….FOOD STAMPS. So….let me get this straight……you’re using other people’s hard-earned tax dollars, that is supposed to be used for feeding needy, unfortunate people… buy TWINKIES???? *GRRRRRR* MY family used to be on food stamps. It’s not the usage of them that troubles me. It’s HOW they are being used here. They are taking advantage of a system devised to help those less fortunate. It’s pathetic. I manage to keep my opinion of them to myself though, and they scan their card….OOPS not done. The magnet is broken. So now I must type in the whole number on the card, and get their identification, which they give me grudgingly, with much loathing and contempt. I FINALLY get all the information through….here we go, the receipt is gonna print out any second…………………………………………..

“Declined: Insufficient Funds.”


So now I have to remove even MORE stuff (not including those wretched Twinkies), and I FINALLY get them all payed for, receipt printed, and thoroughly checked by said glorious ladies, who want to double check that I “ain’t cheatin’ dem”. Okay. We’re done. I watch, as with their noses held aloft, they snap their fingers at my courtesy clerk as if he’s their personal man-slave, and stalk out the door ahead of him as he scurries to keep up, and they go back and forth about how our prices and service is the worst they’ve ever seen, and how they’re never coming back.

Good riddance, Queens of the Hood.   



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