Friday, November 21, 2008

Hell with a price check...

When I walked into work yesterday, everything seemed to be going relatively smoothly. The other cashiers were still smiling and the new girl being trained, wasn't in fetal position crying.

Convincing myself that these were signs of a good night, I open my register and turned on the glowing light of death.

I don't know what it is about people feeling the need to race over to a newly opened register, but it's like a scene from a WWE fight. Buggies plow into each other, obscene words are thrown out, children are shoved in order to get a head of the's pure madness.

A couple walk up (both heavier set) and chunk their stuff onto the counter. Neither of them answer my routine question of "How are you?", which leads me to believe that manners are not a requirement to shop here.

The lady purchases a pair of lepard print thong underwear which only brought repulsive images to my already exhausted brain.

Shaking off the terror, I continue with their purchases only to find that the man of the house has bought, not one, but THREE boxes of jumbo condoms.

Your own jokes can be inserted into this particular scene, but mine was simple. Why the hell would you need that many Jumbo sized condom?

I was so tempted to just show him the Hefty Gladbags (cheaper, and no ripping!), but I need this job therefore, I quickly scan the items and shove them into a victimized bag of grossness.

One of the many downfalls of being a cashier, I get to see first-hand the crap you buy leaving plenty of room for sarcasm and interpretation. I could work for SNL with the stories I make up in my head using only the stuff on my counter.

But seriously, three boxes?


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