Mama, Don't let your babies grow up...to be assholes.

The day before Mother's Day. Blinded by foolishness, I had convinced myself that today would no worse then any other day. Apparently, 'Mother's Day' is code for "Treat your Cashiers like crap because you were too lazy to get your mom stuff ahead of time."

My register had been swamped the entire day. Breathing was becoming a thing of the past and my movements were almost robotic. A heavier set man walks through and buys the usual stuff for mama dearest. Flowers? Check. Cheesy Card? Check. Creepy Teddy Bear? Check.

He pays with a credit card. Luckily for me, all the debit card swipers machines have crashed and burned, so we are forced to hand scan them ourselves. The man pays with a credit card and because of some weird glitch, I have to imprint the card.

Everything goes through fine. I hand the man his receipt and am off to the next loser. Three transactions later, I see that the man is still lurking next to my register.

"Sir, Can I help you?"

"What are you trying to pull bitch?"

"Excuse me?"

"Listen, I may look like a fool, but I'm not. I know what your doing. I've already had my identity stolen once and I'm not going to let some C*** like you screw up my credit again. Consider yourself fired you dumb bitch!"

I look at the man in complete shock. First of all, I don't put up with being called anything. Secondly, had the store manager (the big dog, as we refer to her) not been at the service desk behind me...I might have smothered the man with a Joe Boxer pillow.

My register is completely in need of dollar bills, so I walk the 2 feet to get change and there he is. The asshole is trying to get the attention of the manager and when he sees me promptly says, "Nope, you're dismissed little lady. Go back to your register."

Later, the BIG DOG manager walks by me and inquires about the incident. She laughs when she gets my side.

"I could tell he was a loon the minute he walked up. Don't worry about it."

Why, yes! I was indeed stealing your identity sir. All my life, I've wanted to be a fat bald man with one tooth and a lazy eye. It's my dream, really. Damn you for ruining the American dream, you prick.

Oops! Did I drop that brick on your face?

I've only taken two steps into work, not even having the chance to clock in, and like a raging bull, the security guard wanna-be runs up to me.

"You see that girl in softlines with the polka-dotted dress? She, the old lady, and the three guys with her are being watched for shoplifting."

"And?"

" 'BOB' says you need to keep an eye on them and report what you see."

"Tell 'Bob' that I don't get paid enough to be a hero. Unless he's got a $5 bonus in his back pocket, I don't care what they steal."

The guy looks at me, shrugs, and just strolls away. Seriously? Like I've got that much time on my hands to play '007 at some crappy retail store.

2 hours later, Manager 'Bob' pages me over the intercom. I trudge up to service desk to find 5 (yes, 5) carts overflowing with stuff. Turns out, the people knew we were watching them and just to be good citizens, they decided to get $2200 worth of stuff and then have the check declined.

So who has to clean the mess up? Why, yes....the poor floor workers. Softlines had a buggy stacked as high as me with random clothes. They even took the time to put ALL the candles on the shelf in their shopping cart.

These are the people I wish serious karma. Really? $2200 worth the stuff and you pretend to be shocked at the declining of your check? Screw you. They were lucky it wasn't me that had to check out all their stuff. There really is no telling what kinda names I would come up with to call them.

Softlines 101

For the last month, I've been on a 'trial' in the softlines (women's, men's, infants clothes). I had been doing well, by my standards at least...which are incredible low. I have grown quite fond of the infants section. Not because it has cute little dresses or tinsy winsy lil booties...just cause it's the smallest department in my store. Yep, my standards are quite the mind blower.

Yesterday, I'm at the fitting room desk pretending to fold clothes, when this lady walks up. The next part all happens in what seemed to be a slow-mo Charlie Brown's teacher, A.D.D all fucked up moment. The lady mumbles a blur of nonsense and all I could concentrate on is that something was missing...but what? I just couldn't put my finger on it.

Then, it Chris Brown'd me. The lady had no tongue. Literally, it was just a stub. Shallow of me? Why, yes....yes it was. Don't even pretend like you wouldn't tilt your head and wonder....

I manage to catch the word 'bathroom' and promptly point her towards the back.

Damn creepy retail store in the middle of murder heights. One day, this will all catch up with me, but until then....I will just have to blog it.