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

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

Back To Work Blues

My vacation is over. My staycation, actually, because I didn’t go anywhere. I just enjoyed nine days of bliss and relaxation. No chaos, no whining, no complaints. Just pure – vegetate until you have a psychotic break – silence.

Sigh…

No more lazing around the pool for me. Okay, it was my bathtub but the good news is I am less likely to drown. Plus, I didn’t have anybody with gold teeth asking me if I’d be interested in a time-share. Then I’d have to sit through a three hour seminar listening to their blasted, “waaah, waaah, waaah, waaah, waaah!” (Like Charlie Brown’s teacher), just to be able to go on a free tour to snorkel with sharks.

Seriously, I don’t want a freakin’ rip off time-share, nor do I need a macramé bracelet. Note to self: On future trips just pay for the tour.

Anyhoo~

I just really did not want to do any people’ing with fuck-tards. Total seclusion is what I wanted, and that is exactly what I got. Complete, elated joy.

Just a little update for those following my food allergy issues: I stopped eating wheat, gluten and dairy. The rashes have healed a lot. My blood pressure has returned to normal and I’ve lost 20 pounds. I have literally thrown two sacks of russet potatoes off my body and I feel great. I’m telling you, there is something wrong with our food. I have become addicted to organic oranges however, but that’s not a bad thing. It cleans the innards.

Blah…I go back to work tomorrow.

~ Looking gorgeous 😀 ~

The good news is, I like the people I work with. That’s the only thing that makes my job worthwhile. As for the customers, well let me just say there is a shit load of arse wipes in the world who love to aggravate me, and they come right to customer service.

Well, I guess I have to get my blog material from somewhere. 😀

Back to the hamster cage, and more stories to come.

~GW

Shrimp, Shit, And An Angry Fit.

A burley man walked over to me at customer service with three different bags of shrimp in his hands. His eyes opened as wide as saucers and he aggressively demanded that I give him ninety dollars worth of shrimp for free. He based this misguided belief on the fact that no price was listed beside the products in the seafood department. He got angry and started yelling at me because the shrimp wasn’t up for unfettered grabs.

An air hose attached to an oxygen tank protruded up his largely pored, fat snout which helped him to breathe. I didn’t think that eating cholesterol laden bottom dwelling crustations would improve his health, but hey, that doesn’t matter anyway if you’re an entitled piece of shit.

I tried to explain to him that the scanning policy is only in affect if the products are priced incorrectly, but they scanned fine and at the right price. Alas, any explanation on the subject fell on deaf ears like an attempted conversation with ding-a-ling Patrick Star. When he realized I wouldn’t cave in to his demands he stomped off.

Shortly after, a guy and a girl walk up to my cash to pay. He grabbed a Kit Kat and the girl says, “I’d like one too.”
“You can eat half of this one!” he snapped.
“I’d like a whole one,” she continued.
“You don’t need it!” he barked.
I’m glaring at the girl, looking to see the expression on her face. It’s blank. She didn’t say anything. I secretly hoped she’d say, “screw you, asshole!” But nope, nothin’. Not even a twitch. I glance over at him and he has a smug look on his face. I’m thinking, great…another narcissistic control freak. If she reacted he’d probably retaliate by leaving a bruise in a place nobody can see. What would Jesus say?

Speaking of nasty people…

A few days ago a lady walked into the store and berated one of the young cashiers. This mean-spirited cow went up one side of her and down the other like a fire ant on a mound. The cashier handled herself very well under the circumstances. She apologized even though she did nothing wrong, but eventually became so hurt it reduced her to tears. Why would anyone do that to another person, seriously? Later in the evening the same lady called the store and roasted her again on the telephone.

Un-fucking-believable!

Cashiers are not the punching bags of society. We are just there to make a living. Minimum wage does not entitle you to verbally pummel a young girl. For folks who cannot control their narcissistic anger, stay at home. Better yet, get psychiatric help because we do not want to be the brunt of your bitchy, spewing, cruel idiocies.

~IN OTHER NEWS~

I’m on holiday for nine days. Oh yeah, no more people’ing or stress caused by over-eating big-mouthed dimwits. Solitude is bliss. HAPPY CANADA DAY!

Yours truly,

~Strong Loonie.

Conspiracy, Zealots and Money…Oh My

Why do I always get the crazies bothering me at work?

I’m standing at customer service minding my own business, when this big oaf with a mouth as wide as a truck stop starts going on and on about the evils in Hollywood and that Jim Carrey is the head of a huge Satanic pedophile ring. He sold his soul to the Devil for fame. Yes, literal soul selling. Apparently it’s a thing. He wouldn’t shut up and I couldn’t get a word in edgewise because he loved to hear himself talk. I thought, this guy has a brain like Ker Plunk. Pull out the sticks and his marbles fall. His features looked like Ruth Buzzy and Pee Wee Herman had a baby.

I’d never heard of this story before so I looked it up online – because of course, if it’s on YouTube it must be true. (Sarcasm) Anyway, the only evidence I could find about Carrey is from some crazy luntic religious ding-a-ling and his so called secret informats. Okay, yeah, well, slap me silly and call me a tinfoil helmet whack job, It must be true then. If you’re going to make serious claims back it up with real evidence. In this technological age somebody must have a spy camera.

Later in the day this lady walks in and starts going on about how the world is coming to an end and everyone is going to be thrown into hell. The Lord is vengeful and is going to make things right, and all that jazz. I thought God was love? Oh well, there goes that theory smashing out the window. She’s about as annoying as a religious dude who always comes in trying to grab my hand. I don’t like people touching me. Maybe he’s hoping his crazed- eye hulk handshake will make me super zealous too. Perhaps he’s looking to make some sort of conversion transference. Dang! I might start having snack attacks for round bread and blood-wine.

I seriously don’t need a crutch to be a good person. To me, God is not in any corrupt cult organization, building nor in a man made book. He just…IS.

I don’t know why some folks are so focused on the worst things happening in society, when there are plenty of amazing things occuring around the planet. Many good samaritans still exist if you look carefully past the veil of doom and gloom.

Goodness will always prevail. Peace starts from within.

However, the cuckoos always seem to poke their snotty noses out of the closet at the weirdest times.

An elderly lady asked me for a refund today. She wanted a refund for cherries because they cost $1.80, which she thought was too expensive. It is getting beyond ridiculous. Then, she refused to sign the paperwork because her husband is a doctor. Like I care that her husband is a doctor. He’s a doctor who apparently can’t afford cherries on sale. I don’t care one iota. What you do for a living or how much money or material things you own doesn’t excite me at all.

Some folks have to constanlty rub it in your face that they have money like they are spewing some sort of God complex. I couldn’t give a shit. What does impress me? Perhaps your talent, but especially if you’re a decent human being. That is a real gift.

~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

Vapor Caper

A lady dressed in a tailored suit and wearing a pearl necklace came up to my cash register and waited for me to ring through her groceries. This chick must have soaked herself in a vat of perfume and then sprayed it all over herself as well for good measure.

She created a deadly, toxic force field. Her offensive chemical consistancy permeated in the air surrounding her like a hog sewer and a vat of rotting onions instantly and energetically smashed together. It choked me really badly like a skunk desperately running into my nostrils looking for berries.

What happened to the idea of a little dab will do ya? Or that less is more?

This black hole stench-vortex sucked the oxygen right out of my lungs. My throat seized up like a rusty engine and I simultaneously explosively farted and choke-coughed at the same time.

Oopsie…

Yes, I felt embarrassed. I wanted to drop through a trap door beneath me. I obviously have really bad allergies. This definitely wasn’t a grocery whisper.

She took a step back, eyes wide, staring at me looking both surprised and horrified. “Are you okay?”

What I really wanted to do is curse. I felt angry because I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t actually say the words in bold, but it’s what I thought.

“Yes, I’m okay. You stupid, stinking bitch. I always like to pretend I’m an exploding balloon at least once a day. I’m big at parties!” I remarked sarcastically. “Actually, I’m allergic to your perfume,” I gasped. “You’re wearing too much. How do you not know that you reek like a pit of decaying animals covered in ammonia? The buzzards are circling!”

She looked offended and left. It wasn’t my fault she stank like a two cent hooker. I wonder to this day if she still soaks herself in lung destroying chemical. I exploded like an aerosol can on an open flame in front of her. I hope she learned this valuable life lesson:

If you wear too much perfume you’ll get a KABOOM!

~GW


I’m Not Deserving?

I’ve heard some folks say, “well, golly gee willikers, why should a person working in a grocery store get the same wage as somebody who has gone to college? They don’t deserve it. They didn’t have to sacrifice any time to better themselves, or pay any money to further their education.”

Wow!

Well, let me fill you in on a little secret. I’ve graduated from college, many times. Don’t be a judgemental shit-head and assume I’m not educated. It bugs the hell out of me.

I don’ t have a fat head or anything, but truth be told, I have diplomas in many different fields. I did my time and I paid my dues over the years. I’ve accomplished many amazing things. I deserve a good wage just like everyone else. Anyone who begrudges me that, well that’s too fucking bad.

Why don’t I use my diplomas? Why am I working in a grocery store?

Because I like it!

Mostly, I like the people I work with.

It’s so hard to find a job where your co-workers are nice, thoughtful, and don’t try to throw you under the bus. I’ve worked with some of the biggest thick-headed, venomous bitches and jerks known to mankind in my trained profession, and trust me, after you experience that you don’t want to subject yourself to that kind of negative environment ever again. I don’t know why folks have to be such low vibrational mud-suckers, but they are.

No amount of money is worth that bullshit. Peace of mind is gold. I’m an educated grocery whisperer, and I’m okay with that.

Those people who think only of themselves, are hopelessly uneducated. They are not educated no matter how instructed they may be.

Here’s a wee poem I wrote. I hope you like it.

You stand in line, food on the belt,
You never knew just how I felt,
When you judged me from afar,
Ram that carrot up your star.

What can I say, I’m a talented poet. Hahaha

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.