Gratitude

A lady came up to my cash at work today to pay for her groceries.

“Hi there, how are you?” I asked as I began to ring in her purchases.

“Stressed,” she replied.

“Oh, how come?” I inquired.

She told me she recently lost her job at a bank in finance, and felt really stressed because she has no income.

“Oh no. How did you lose it?” I continued.

“I had a nervous breakdown,” she explained.

“I’m so sorry. Well, you can always apply for a job here. It’s pretty much stress free. We are always looking for new employees and at least you’d have some money coming in.”

“No,” she blurted. “This job is beneath me.”

Her words caught me off guard. I just stared at her in disbelief. You know, I really felt kind of insulted, almost like I needed to defend myself. Did she think we are all a bunch of uneducated dummies or something?

Does she think I’m so poor that I should chase a garbage truck with my grocery list? I think she just made me a member of a leper colony.

“I’m educated, you know,” I remarked, trying not to seem utterly offended or that I took it personally. “I have diplomas in many different fields.”

My eyebrows raised. “You explained that you are stressed and have no money, but some money is better than no money.”

“Maybe if I got a job as the manager, but I would never do your job. It would be too humiliating,” she stated. “My bank is close to this store and if anyone saw me working here, I would be so embarrassed.”

“Okay,” I said, and continued to bag her groceries.

She paid for her food and as she walked away I muttered, “have a nice day.”

Jesus. I think this chick needs to learn gratitude. I guess she’s never been hungry. A nervous breakdown should be a hint she’s in the wrong occupation. Sometimes the money isn’t worth it. For the record, I happen to like my job.

When the universe hands you an opportunity, don’t kick him in the stars.

~The look on your face~

~GW

Things That Irk Me

There are a lot of things that irritate me, but nothing boils my blood worse than somebody who is driving in the passing lane as slow as a drunken slug and won’t move over. Or even worse, they won’t let me in the right lane so I can make my turn. Yeah, I get road raged.

Don’t fucking do that…

People are STILL coming to my cash talking on their phone, and STILL completely ignoring my existence. It’s starting to happen so often that it’s making me passive aggressive. Now I purposely ask questions. “It’s nice out today isn’t it? Do you need a bag? How are you doing today? How would you like to pay for your purchase? Would you like me to put your vegetables in a produce bag? The weather is getting colder, I wonder if it’s going to rain today? Those cookies look really good.” I constantly interrupt their call. Hey, if you want to be a prick I can be a bigger one. The customers behind them always end up apologizing to me. It’s not their fault the person in front of them is a jackass. There are too many rude, idiots in the world.

STOP. DOING. THAT.

This is literally my face. “How can I help you, mother fucker?

You may not know this, but I have no interest in Aunt Hilda’s hemorrhoid surgery, neither do I care if little Johnny is an obnoxious jerk who tantrums. Maybe if you’d get off your fucking phone….just sayin’.

Also…

Adults need to stop bashing Greta Thunberg. Anyone who does that is a dick. It’s nice to see young people sticking up for our planet.

Keep up the good work, Greta. You are wise beyond your years. Many of us appreciate what you are doing.

~GW

Atissuew

It started off as allergies today, or so I thought.

That’s right, the Germy Whisperer is deluding herself.

I know what you’re thinking…

Ha ha! Get lost, you slags. I really am ill.

Now I know I’m coming down with something. Dammit! I bet ‘ole slimy, money mouth that I mentioned in the last blog infected me.

Ugh…Sigh.

I dragged my ass at work today. I couldn’t breathe and felt really wiped out. Every hour felt like an eternity of damnation.

I partook in Nyquil, Tylenol 1`s, chicken soup and a hot bath with apple cider vinegar to kill the pestilence. I even went all out and ate a few dry crackers. I figure at this point it doesn’t matter if I over-do it with the carbs. I’ll probably be up-chucking it in an hour anyway.

Kleenex will be my intimate friend for the next few days.

I feel like shit. No…I feel worse than shit. I feel like shit that has been rolled in shit and then left on the street in extreme heat to ferment.

Thank God I don’t have to work tomorrow. Diapers aren’t a good look with my uniform. Neither is a runny clown nose, for that matter.

I need to stay home with my kitah’s. I’m feeling very cranky and might accidentally fork stab somebody. Especially a bitch…er, I mean person at work who is really getting on my nerves lately.

My fucking stomach sounds like a hyena burping the Star Spangled Banner to a dying moose.

I will be out of commission for a little while. Send me some cheer! I need it.

~GW

I Loathe Salad

Hello, fine people. Happy Labour Day!

I have to admit, I am jealous of people who can eat an entire pizza and not gain a pound. No, let me rephrase that. It angers me. Dammit, it’s unfair. All I have to do is look at a pizza and I turn into Jabba The Hutt. When it’s pizza day at work, I just silently snort in the aroma of the passing deliciousness and then place the boxes in other people’s carts.

Some of my co-workers go on their breaks and buy Mountain Dew, chocolate bars, pizza and cupcakes. I admit it, I’m envious. They gorge on that shit like there’s no tomorrow. They’re as skinny as a rake and there’s no leaves to gather. It seems so unfair. It’s diabolical.

I only eat food that you can pick, pluck or shoot, and I still feel like a fairy elephant.

I don’t need a personal trainer as much as I just need somebody to follow me around to slap the unhealthy food out of my hand.

I want to work out, but then I don’t want to work out even more.

Experts say that refined sugar is like heroin. It awakens certain pleasure centers in the brain and makes you addicted. I just try to avoid it. Now I know why they call it junk food, because it turns you into an acne scarred, whale blubbering junkie.

I’ve lost thirty-five pounds thus far, so I must be doing something right. It’s just that..well, it feels like it’s taking an eternity to reach my goal. Two pounds a week is what doctor’s claim is a healthy weight loss. I don’t want to send my body into hyper-drive distress by losing far too much at once, and then end up shedding all my hair like Yul Brynner, but dayammm!

If I can’t stick to a diet, does that make me a desserter? Ha!

Why does sugar, fat and salt have to taste so good? Take Lay’s chips, for example. They come in a new onion ring flavour. I know it’s all chemicals with shit loads of artificial cancer causing ingredients, but it still brings forth a surge of excitement. I won’t eat them, mind you. God no, I don’t want to go back to my old physique. I just ask other people who buy them in line how delicious they are.

Fuck…

My nutritionist told me to eat about 1,200 calories a day. I said, “okay, so how many do I eat at night?”

Anyhoo, I suppose my health is more important. My blood pressure did return to normal, I’m not on any medications and have no issues. Knock on wood. Plus, I’m able to fit into many of my ultra cute outfits again. I really shouldn’t complain. I guess weight loss is just a waiting game.

~GW

Frenemy

I’m standing at customer service ringing through a customer’s groceries when I notice a woman in line staring at my name tag.

I stare intently back at her letting her know that she’s burning a stare-hole into my shirt.

Then I noticed something else, her teeth. Oh my God, I know those hell hound fangs. I know this chick, it’s Emma. Honestly, it’s the only way I recognized her because her appearance changed a lot.

I guess it’s inevitable. It’s a small world. I work in a local area and I sell food in a supermarket.

Her hair looked different, a little more blonde. Obviously a dye job. This girl and I were friends for many years, until the day she abandoned me as my divorce – as she claimed – made me not as upbeat as she desired.

Damn, I hadn’t seen her in twenty-three years. I thought, why is the universe sticking her on my doorstep now? Dammit, she’s not somebody I ever wanted to see or hear from again. I really regret the time I invested and wasted with her.

We used to work together too, and at the lowest time in my life, this twit dumped me like she just gorged on a fiery vat of spicy chili dogs.

She looked old and haggard, her youthful glow snuffed out. A little more wrinkly, but of course a couple of decades have passed. I have aged a bit too but in comparison I have to say I look like a beautiful goddess.

I remained polite but felt a little uncomfortable. I’m not going to lie, she really freakin’ hurt me years ago. Oh, how I would have loved to ream her out for being such a huge fucking Judas, but I remained calm.

Like a God damned plunger, she brought up old shit in my mind.

I felt triggered. I didn’t have a lengthy conversation with her, I never asked any questions. I felt no desire to care about anything she might have to say. Deep down I just hoped her life was a giant ball of scat. Maybe it is, I don’t think you get very far in life when you treat your friends like absolute puss-inflicted knicker defecation.

“I know you,” I uttered. “You’re Emma.”

“I know you too,” she sneered.

I rang in her purchases and she paid for them. I felt caught off guard and I don’t even remember what she bought, just that she paid by cash. Not that it matters one iota anyway.

Emma shook like a shaky bitch when she realized I recognized her. I’m not sure if she just became super nervous or if she suffered from Parkinson’s.

Deep down, I hoped for the latter~

Karma, cuntasaur!

The Inconsequential Employee

This has been really bothering me lately…

The worst feeling in the world is being ignored. Now mind you, I know that being a cashier may not be the most glamerous occupation in the world, but it doesn’t mean I’m not educated. It doesn’t mean I’m stupid, either.

I’m sorry that my career choice is beneath some people who can’t even find it within themselves to treat me like a human being.

I mean seriously, when I ask a question why do some customers just stand there and act like I don’t exist? Like I’m invisible? Like they can’t hear me?

Ghosted…

I must be such a hinderance to them. How dare I ask them a question about how they are going to pay for their processed crap.

Either I just get completely ignored by these folks, or they’re on their damn phone yapping with somebody about rubbish I don’t want to hear, completely unaware of anything else around them. I ask if they have Airmiles, then they look at me with an irritated glare as if I’m interupting their phone call. They attempt to dehumanize me and that is wrong and ignorant.

Sigh…

It makes the world an ugly place. It’s extemely rude. I’m standing on my feet serving people for eight hours a day. What happened to manners? I’m dedicating my time to people who treat me like absolute shit.

Sometimes I dream about snatching the telephone off their neck and smashing it to the floor like Hulk Hogan, but alas, that is just a fantasy.

It’s often times like this I wish we had self-checkout at our store, so they could take their bad attitude and crappy personality with them.

Life is difficult enough. I am a pleasant person. I work extremely hard and don’t want to have to deal with jackasses every day. Unfortunately, they seem to congregate in herds.

It makes me want to squish their bread.

Don’t make me ram my thumb into your Dempsters.

~GW

Butter Bitch

I stood at customer service helping one of my co-workers bag groceries. We chatted about different types of healthy food when this bitter, old elderly lady told me to shut the fuck up because she has a brain injury and can’t stand noise. I said, “fine.” I mimed the old zipper my mouth routine and threw away the key. I didn’t say another word.

Her son, about fifty years old, stood beside her looking like he wanted to internally combust from embarassment.

She brought six bricks of Lactancia butter to be scanned at the register and handed the cashier a rain-check. We hand those out when we run out of stock. There’s only supposed to be a limit of two, and I wondered who the hell fucked up.

Anyhoo… the rain-check wouldn’t scan. I tried to explain to the old cow…er, I mean customer that she brought us the wrong butter which is why I couldn’t discount it, and oh my God she just about had a bird, and cow and an obese zebra.

She completely freaked out, verbally ripped off my head and then body slammed it onto the counter.

“The foil butter is on sale not the boxed,” I tried to explain. I felt like I stood on top of a high mountain because all I could hear was her shrieking voice echoing over and over again about how stupid I am.

I thought, okay, what happened to the ‘low noise’ brain injury excuse? I guess that medical delusion goes right out the window when she doesn’t get her own way, because she made more of an uproar than an atomic bomb going off. Jesus, what a rude, jurassic shit-head.

She paid for the fucking butter and I sent her on her way.

I turned to my co-worker and said, “Oh my God, can you imagine living with her? Well, I better not talk about her on my blog. You know, I might look insensitive if I talk about a sour old crow with a mangled brain.”

My co-worker lowered her brow and snarled ,”screw that, she’s a bitch!”

Alrighty then

The next day when I arrived at work the assistant manager called me into his office.

That’s never a good sign~

The excitement just never ends at my job. Apparenly I locked an employee in the store and went home.

RO-oh.

I made closing announcements at 9:30, 9:45, 9:50, 9:55, 10:00pm, and yelled at the top of my lungs before I left at 10:10pm, but apparently this doofus, who I might add is as dumb as a bag of hammers, still didn’t hear anything. I don’t know what the hell he was doing.

All the motion sensors went off in the store and he called 911. Seriously, 911? A shit load of police came from everywhere. As my boss is explaining what went down, I’m laughing my ass off. He got angry that I laughed, but I’m sorry……it’s funny as hell.

~GW

PIGS

Are customers always right? I understand that customers are the ones that make a business successful, but come on…folks can be so vulgar, privileged and rude.

A man walked up to me at customer service and informed me of folks doing disgusting things with the fruit in the store.

I thought, what the hell?

I calmly walked over to the produce area and watched as customers opened every bag of BC cherries with their germ-ridden fingers and started flinging the ones they didn’t want onto the black showcase shelf like a bunch of barn-raised chimpanzees tossing chunks of shit at each other.

A chinese and a white chick started slinging them around all over the shelves with absolutely no regard.

I raised my eyebrows. “Excuse me, can you please stop doing that? It’s unsanitary!” I said strongly.

The white chick stared at me. “Well, some of them are wet at the bottom,” she snapped. Like that gave her some kind of right to act like an imbecile.

“I don’t care. Just stop, please!” I repeated.

Honest to God, these women are middle aged. You’d think they’d know better.

Then, later in the evening one of the deli girls came over to me to complain about a customer sticking his fingers in the olives at the olive bar, and shoving them in his gob like a starving Ethiopian at a free buffet.

She said to him, “come on, you’re a fifty year old man. That is theft and it’s unacceptable that you’re sticking your unclean fingers in there.”

He just grunted, chewing up the olives in his big hole as he walked away.

When he came up to the cash he didn’t even buy any olives. The nerve! I couldn’t say anything because I didn’t see it happen. But all I have to say is gross….just GROSS.

Folks need to give their heads a shake.

~GW

A Snit And A Fit From An Unpleasant Git.

HEY….It’s been almost two months since you’ve heard from me. Did you miss me? Ha!

I’m telling this story so that you can see what kind of horrible people we have to deal with every day in the grocery business. Some customers are so nasty and rude.

I stood at customer service ringing in a customer’s groceries, when this balding dick-head butts in line waving corn at me, demanding that I serve him. I told him that I hadn’t finished serving the customer in front of him and that he needs to wait his turn.

He barked, “well how many minutes are you going to take?”

I replied, “as long as it takes this customer to enter his information into the machine and pay.”

“Well, how long is that going to take?” he snapped.

I glared at him. “Sir, ask the customer yourself, he’s standing right beside you.”

The customer I was serving looked angry and said to me, “he won’t want to hear my reply.”

Baldy got aggressive. He turned toward me and continued to hiss, “I’m asking you. How many minutes is it going to take?”

“I don’t know. As long as it takes, Sir!”

Jesus, I felt annoyed. I wanted to smash him on the floor like a Greek plate. It’s too bad I can’t tell customers when they are being a fucking dickwad. I have to be nice and it took everything I had within me to contain myself. His whole demeanor felt like an annoying, circling horsefly and I wanted to slap him unconscious. What a piece of work.

We are quick at work, but we can only go so fast We aren’t aliens in disguise, although many treat us like we are.

Also this week, another piece of entitled shit griped that I took too long helping a crippled man in a wheelchair with his groceries. He complained that he waited in the lineup for forty-five minutes. This is utter bullshit. It’s like somebody describing the fish they caught, the exaggeration gets bigger and bigger.

Then to add insult to injury, he moaned to head office about it as well. Seriously, has he no heart? I helped a Vietnam vet. How impatient and low can people get? Ram a stick up his ass and call him a popsicle, cause that’s pretty damn cold.

He also called our phone at customer service as he stood in line and asked if we have an extra cashier. My co-worker answered the phone and told him, “NO, we don’t.” Do folks not realize this is rude and it delays us further? I thought, yeah buddy, we hide extra cashiers in the back and bring them out on special occasions when fucktards want their organics.

~IN OTHER NEWS~

Somebody left their hat in the bathroom today.

Jesus saved them, but he didn’t save their hat.

~GW