Bag Hags

Hello fellow blogzillians. 😀

A lady came in the store one day and I asked her if she needed bags.

“No, I have my own bags,” she responded.

She handed me a bag and I wanted to hurl my last three suppers. It teemed with dirt, old bacterial meat stains and God knows what other type of plague crawling around inside her bag of horrors.

I just kind of dropped her items inside thinking…ew, ew, ew, ew.

Like seriously, have some self respect. Wash your shit. Then folks wonder how they get food poisoning. Perhaps it could be because you’re a disgusting pig. Reusable bags do not mean you can skip laundry day.

I wear gloves, but sometimes I feel like I need to wear an entire hazmat suit.

Then yesterday, a man came into the store and placed a few items on the checkout for me to bag. He brought out a cloth bag and It covered in so much dog hair, it almost looked like cousin IT. You could literally wire brush it and call it Fluffy.

“Um, I am severly allergic to dogs,” I explained. “So unless you want to drive me to the emergency room and put me on a life saving breathing machine, I can’t bag your things.” I wouldn’t touch that thing with a ten foot pole.

All that hair probably got all inside his food. It was just really gross. No, just……no. Yuck.

If you’re a dirty bugger, you don’t need to announce it to the world.

~GW

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

Tips For Busy Assholes

DelightfuL

When I’m standing at my cash preparing to serve you, please make sure you don’t stink. By stink, I mean that you don’t have an obnoxious, biohazard stank breath. It’s fucking disgusting. I don’t want to smell the insides of your digesting gut. It makes me take a step back and I’ll talk to you from an impersonal, lean backward stance. I know I might be asking for too much, but can you please gargle with a vat of Listerine and chew on a whole bottle of cloves? Actually, just douse your throat with a jug of Clorox. Stop molesting each and every one of my nose hairs.

Tooth brushes are on sale on isle two. Or, there is duct tape to cover your gob. Even better!

This is literally my face.

I’m going to give you a little helpful exercise. Lick the palm of your hand and smell it. Take a deep and long whiff. Try not to choke on your own pong. That’s what your breath is doing to society. I’ve walked into the grocery store and the air smells toxically sour because of somebody’s back alley sewage water breath, so I have to go around spraying febreeze just so that I can get through my shift without gagging up my breakfast and lunch. It’s like an animal that climbs up my nose, borrows into my head and lives there.

Is it rude to throw a breath mint into somebody’s mouth when they are talking? Ha!

Also, after you pay for your items, please take your receipt. If you need to return something at a later date, you’ll need to have that piece of inconvienience you want to toss. You wouldn’t believe how many folks try to return food without it. I need it to refund your money, it’s company policy. For all I know you went into the store and just grabbed something off the shelf to return for the cash. How do I know you’re not a thieving plonker? Hey, there are shit heads out there that do this. Plus, something could ring in wrong when you’re paying for your processed, low calorie, all natural, locally grown, gluten free, whole food with minimal packaging. How would you even know if you don’t look at it? So what I’m trying to say is, take your fucking sales slip.

It’s funny when customers get angry when I ask for their proof of purchase. They become irrate. It’s tiring. Even if I’ve told them a million times they have to have it, they continue to return shit without one over and over again. Sometimes I wonder if some customers are brain dead.

Please stop “dirty carting”. You would not believe how many times we are bringing in the carts and there’s a half eaten apple and a dirty snot rag full of virus sitting in the buggy because somebody was too fucking lazy to throw it out themselves. It’s disugusting. Don’t do that. If you have snotty nosed brats, pick up after them. Or if it’s just you, don’t be a fuckin’ pig.

And then, there is this nightmare.

~GW

Idiots

Ugh…please give me strength. Let me tell you what happened yesterday at work.

It’s lunch time and this young fellow walks up to my cash. He starts talking to me about how terrible it is that so much animal abuse is going on in the world. I look down at the things he’s buying. A bottle of coke – made of plastic that goes up the arses of turtles, and a sandwich encased in plastic. I’m sure that could choke a few seagulls or dolphins. I asked him where he thought sliced meat comes from.

Um….yeah. Just go and pet a few kitties, Bubbles.

“Would you like a bag?” I inquired. At this point, I just had to ask.

“Nope, I’m saving the environment,” he bellowed.

You have to fucking laugh…

Then later on in the day, a lady dumps all her groceries at customer service. Two hundred dollars worth of items on the express lane that clearly states one-eight items. I didn’t see her do it, because I stood at the other counter doing lottery.

I can’t help it, sometimes it just infuriates me. It wouldn’t be as bad if she came later in the day but four o’clock rolled around and the store was packed.

I stared at her in disbelief and said, “this is the express lane, it’s only one to eight items.”

She replied, “I know.”

Then I really felt bitchy. “If you knew that, why did you dump so many grocery items on here?”

She smirked and said, “I didn’t want to wait.”

“Please don’t do this again,” I snapped. “It backs up my line and upsets the other customers who are now inconvenienced because you did this.”

She started to bag her own groceries, as if that would make up for it. Stupid bitch. Next time I will make her collect it all and move it. Sometimes I’m too damn nice.

Honest to God. The inconsiderate entitlement of folks in my town just makes me shake my head. It’s disgusting.

Later on, I walked around the store and found eggs, milk, ice cream and strawberries just left on random shelves because somebody was too fucking lazy to put it back. Ruined and garbage. What a waste.

If you insist on being a shit-head, this is what is going to happen with your life.

~GW

A Few Bits And Bobs That Bug Me

The checkout line is not a storge area. The customer has all of their items on the belt with people lined up behind them and they ask, “is it okay if I run to the furthest corner of the store and get some milk?” No, it’s the express line. When they do that and just take off it backs the line right up like a girgling faulty toilet because all their processed shit is in the way of everyone else.

It’s usually always people who insist on using the express lane with way more than their limit, too. It’s one – eight items. Forty-eight cans of soup does not equal one item. They look at me innocently. “Well, I don’t want to wait in line.” Tough shit, Sherlock, it’s one-eight items for a reason. They don’t even apologize when it happens, either, because they are entitled pieces of ignorant shit.

When a customer wants something against the store’s policy and I refuse it, it’s really annoying when they say, “well the other cashier does it for me all the time!” I just shrug and reply, “well, they shouldn’t be doing that.”

It also bugs the crap out of me when they hand back six items they decided they don’t want. I feel like saying, “WhyTF did you pick them up?” Have a little self control, holy cucumber.

Or, they load up the belt with items and then realize they left their wallet at home. Then we have to put everything back and they just walk away. If it’s night time it’s usually me who has to put it back because we have a skeleton staff. Come on, I always check to make sure I have my wallet and money before I buy anything. Don’t leave it to the last minute.

With a cart full of groceries and no wallet…You just go ahead and put them all back Ms. Whisperer, because that’s your job. To put back the groceries of all the arseholes of the world.

And what happened to please and thank you? How many folks were raised in a barn? Yup and nope are not polite answers.

Ugh!

They start early.

Don’t even get me started about the buggies. It even sends the buggy boy into a tizzy. They have to walk that way to leave the store.

Every God damn day, they do it.

A customer stood at the service counter buying his groceries. I stood at cash three and happened to notice the back of his black tee shirt. It said in big white letters, ROTTEN TO THE CORE. I wanted to run up to him and slap him with a big, red NOT FOR SALE sticker, but I restrained myself. Sometimes I have to be careful because some folks don’t understand my grocery humour. 😀

BLAM! I did it in my mind!

And lastly…

Here you go. Holy Keanu. You may as well take this one too, because, I know that’s what you’re doing. Ha ha!

~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 Day In The Life Of A Cashier

A feral woodland creature with big hair, all decked out in her leopard coat, walked up to the grocery store cash register pulling her shabby wheeled cart behind her. She sluggishly pulled out each of her items one by one and dropped them on the conveyer belt.
I rang in her purchases, but then she decided that she didn’t want some of them and I deleted them from her bill.
By this time it started to get busy and the lineup curved around the corner of the store. Folk’s eyes started rolling with impatience as she leisurely took coins out of her purse. I felt trapped in a Looney Tunes cartoon with granny counting pennies.
One…..two……three.
Well, it wasn’t really pennies but it felt like it.
Then Ms. Indecisive realized she didn’t have enough money so she chose to pay with debit instead. With immense difficulty, she finally pried the debit card out of her wallet using her talons. She tapped it too quickly. Two beeps!…NO!!! Holy mother of all shite that is holy. The tap didn’t work, so now she has to insert her card.
She stood there with a vacant look on her face. OH MY GOD…She can’t remember her pin number. She wasn’t just missing a screw, the whole toolbox was gone!
At that moment, I just wanted to die. I literally wanted to internally combust and explode into flame…at this point I’d even be willing to pray for the naked rapture.
At the same time customers started to line up at the opposite lottery counter. Some dick-wad wanted me to serve him immediately. He lowered his eyebrows and his mouth curled into a sneer. “Miss, can you get me some lottery tickets,” he snapped.
“Sir, you have to wait your turn. There are other people ahead of you in line,” I politely replied. “I can’t let you butt in, that wouldn’t be fair.”
His eyes grew wide as saucers and his face turned red. “Well, I’ve been waiting here for twenty minutes!”
Okay, now he’s getting my dander up. The next part that is bolded I didn’t really say, however, it’s what I screamed to myself inwardly with the intensity of a nuclear bomb.
“First of all, that is not true – You ignorant piece of shit on a rope – It’s been about three minutes. Secondly, although I’d be delighted to serve you all at the same time – I’d like to serve you a brick thrown directly at your forehead – I am not an octopus. Please be patient.”
Actually, I really wished I was an octopus so that I could slap eight people at once. I have one hundred billion nerves in my body, and some people have the ability to irritate all of them.
Mr. lottery entitlement buggered off into the distance in a huff because his privilege didn’t work with me, and the slow-witted wildcat finally paid for her food and pounced off into the distance to catch her bus.

Pet Peeves

Yeah, I have some pet peeves. I like to consider myself a tolerant person, but I’m sorry to say some things just irk the hell out of me.

The rudest lunkheads on the planet are people who can’t seem to get off their friggin’ cell phone when they are in the grocery check out line. I mean, come on! What is so damn important that you can’t say…”Hey girl, I’ll call you right back.” Don’t get me wrong folks, I’m not a violent person. However, when customers pull that ill-mannered shit and ignore me when I’m trying to ask them how they want to pay for their carcinogenic, processed, artery clogging slop, I just want to snatch the phone out of their hand and throw it forcefully against the wall, smashing it into oblivion. It amazes me how many people do this and they are completely unaware of how obnoxious they are.
Another thing that really exasperates me is when stupid dipshits are driving and don’t signal when they are going to turn. Seriously, it’s not rocket science. Show me which way you’re going so that I don’t accidentally ram my giant boat of a vehicle into the side of your little eco-car, killing you and your seven children. These are the same dolts that drive slower than a pack of snails going through peanut butter in the left passing lane as well. That’s why speed limits are set. I have to get to work, I actually have a job I have to get to. I don’t have all day. Step on it grandpa, or get in the right hand lane with the rest of your prehistoric, geriatric herd.
The worst peeve for me personally, is when inconsiderate folks bathe in perfume and I’m forced to breathe it in because they come to my till. Seriously, why does one have to wear so much? Have they never heard of the expression, less is more? I have severe allergies to that chemical torment. Whenever they come around me my throat closes up and I sneeze like a combusting, epileptic snuffleupagus. It’s not pretty.