Get the fuck outta here! It was funny as hell.
I learned I don’t know black people. The only reason I knew the meaning of bodonkadonk was because of the commercials that kept coming on all week. I had no clue what a loosey was and never in my wildest dreams thought you could buy loose cigarettes. I thought a chickenhead was just a ditzy girl. I didn’t even know we were supposed to like menthol and forget knowing the Good Times lyrics as I never understood the appeal of a comdey about poor people living in a high-rise project complex.
In fact, I’m going to watch it again tonight because it was so funny.
[sub]How can we rise up and overcome? lol![/sub]
Eh, not much of one. I was working in a combination convenience/deli/liquor store, and I insisted on carding everyone who looked under 25 (as the owner wanted us to do), and when I worked the deli, I would put the true weight of the food on the ticket, along with the true price per pound. There were some deli workers who would mark a lower weight and/or price per pound on the deli tickets if a customer sweettalked them. I always felt that this was pretty stupid, as the owner would occasionally show up and weigh stuff, AND we got polygraph tests every now and then, AND the customers never offered anything in exchange for a lower price. Sheesh. Oh, and I was pretty vigilant against shoplifters. The manager loved to schedule me for afternoon shifts because I’d watch everyone. We had a bunch of kids around who would try to shoplift, apparently it was a gang initiation feat to get something from our store. I would also kick the kids off of the slot machines, since in Las Vegas the minimum gambling age is 21, or was when I worked there.
This was the store, BTW, where I managed to slice the tip of my thumb off. When using a meat slicer, DO NOT use your thumb as a pusher for the meat. Always use that metal thingy, even if it won’t allow you to slice the last inch or so of salami.
My thumb tip grew back, eventually.
<continue hijack> Aw, that was a darned good story! And such a harbinger that time at the store was, too . . . 