You know, I’ve sometimes used the handicapped scooters at the grocery store, when my knee goes out. Sure, I can get up and walk around for short distances, but trying to walk the whole time would hurt like hell. So fuck you.
–
Teeming Millions: http://fathom.org/teemingmillions
“Meat flaps, yellow!” - DrainBead, naked co-ed Twister chat
O p a l C a t
www.opalcat.com
Whenever I’m in a situation where there’s a line there’s usually a pretty good reason when you think about it. I don’t have any sympathy for anyone who’s “just popping in on their lunch hour” or “just swinging by after work” because, guess what? That’s just what a jillion other people are doing too! Usually it’s also Xmastime or the store has a dozen “Help Wanted” signs up on top of it. Try to keep in mind that the poor slob manning the register may actually BE the manager. Due to labor laws and what-not employees are required to take breaks and lunch hours at times that may not be convenient for you. Just for the record, here’s my impatient loudmouth story. This happened a year or so ago (whenever the UPS strike was.) I was standing in line at the post office and the guy behind me starts bitching about “Jeez, look at this line–and only 2 people working!” Well first of all, it’s the POST OFFICE. I mean, anyone knows that you only go to the post office if you have a couple of hours to spend waiting around. If it’s not some joker showing up with a bunch of stuff he wants to mail and doesn’t even have a box to put it in, then it’s some dingy collector who wants to look at every new stamp release up close and personal before buying one stamp from each plate. Don’t get me started on the passport applications! Anyway I turn around to this guy and say “You know there’s more than two people working here, there’s people in the back sorting and loading trucks and stuff.” He sorta rolls his eyes or something so I add “AND UPS is on strike, so all the packages coming through are peobably spreading things a little thin.” at the point he says something like “Yeah, RIGHT” or “What a bunch of crap” so I sweetly told him that since he knew all about how to run a post office maybe he should ask for a freakin’ application when he got up to the window, then everything would be skittles and beer! Seriously, how horrible is it to have to wait in line? Why does this bother some people so much?
"There’s a snake in my boot!
For me, a lot of it has to do with the employee’s attitude. In the situation voguevixen describes, if the employees are obviously working hard, trying to get people through the lines fast, etc. then I believe there’s not much we can really do about it. Maybe complain to the manager, or make it known that they need more workers. But screaming at the people behind the counter isn’t going to do much good.
If, on the other hand, the people behind the counter are oblivious to the line, I feel that there’s a lack of respect there. I’m a customer, I’m part of the reason the shop is in business. It irks me to hand over money I worked for to people who move like molassas. It’s even worse in the many situations I’ve been in where there’s one clerk working and 3 other employees giggling in the corner. In customer service jobs I’ve worked at, if there’s a line of people I work my butt off because I know people have lives. They need to get their stuff done so they can take care of their kids, get back to their jobs, etc.
I hate it when I’m trying to shop and run across a group of youngish women with a mess of little kids around them who they don’t watch and who go yelling and screaming through the store, getting in everyones way.
I really hate it at these select your own doughnut or cookie places in some stores like Walmart because you see people NOT USING the provided strips of clean tissue to handle the food with and they pick up two or three items, put them back, and select another. One kid reached in, mauled a few of the frosted doughnuts, licked his fingers clean of thew icing, reached in and mauled a few more before making his selection. Momma stood there and watched and I resisted the urge to bang my purse off of her head for being a pig.
<font face=“Stencil”> OPALCAT:</Font Face=“stencil”>
**<font face=“Verdana”>Bite me! if I want any shit from you, I’ll squeeze your fat head.
Athena: Good point. You’re right about that.
AnitaJ: Get bent!
"There’s a snake in my boot!
**<font face=“Market”><Font size=“8”><font color=“Orange”>VOGUEVIXEN:
**<font face=“Verdana”><font color=“Black”>You can bite me also, sweetie.
Wow, you can make big fonts. Could you teach me how to do that, so I can be special and important like you?
Ah, the irony that is the title of this thread, and the direction it has gone…
Anita seems not long for this board…
-PIGEONMAN-
Hero For A New Millennium!
The Legend Of PigeonMan - updates every Wed & Sat. If I can be bothered.
Somebody sure seems cranky. Is it naptime, dear?
–
Teeming Millions: http://fathom.org/teemingmillions
“Meat flaps, yellow!” - DrainBead, naked co-ed Twister chat
O p a l C a t
www.opalcat.com
First there’s the people at work that intrupt your conversation, beacause their piddly question is more important. I sometimes just talk as loud as I can over their voice without yelling, and tell them to wait their turn, I need my answer now.
Second your waiting in line and all the clerks are busy ringing up customers or packing the merchandise. Your trying to stay cool and the person next to you is bitching, bitching, and bitching. Shut the f___ up! It won’t be the clerk, if I have to kill someone.
Yesterday the register operator couldn’t check anybody else out at a store, because she couldn’t stop crying. Yell at the manager not the clerk. She was checking people out fairly quickly until you came along.
SaxFace posted 12-08-1999 03:59 PM
I’m one of those rare women who actually hates to shop, and the following story illustrates part of the reason why.
I’m at Nordstrom, purchasing a dress for our company holiday party. I get to the register and the dipstick behind the counter starts mumbling (and I do mean mumbling) something about putting me on her “personal list”. “What is it?” I ask, “I’m already on a mailing list.” She continues to stumble over her words, choking out something like, "wellllllllllllllllll (each word taking forever) we… just… ask… a… few… simple…questions… like… your… name… your… address. That still didn’t answer my question. I cut her off. “I really don’t have the time today, I’d just like to pay for my dress. Thank you.”
She rings it up. It’s a $58.00 dress, plus 8.25% sales tax. I hand her a $75.00 gift certificate. She starts pulling bills out of the drawer. 10, 20, 30, 40, 50, 55, 60, 65…
Me: “Excuse me. How come you’re pulling out so much money?”
Moron clerk: “You get $75.00 back.”
She’sdamnluckyI’mhonest Me: “Uhm, no I don’t. I gave you a $75.00 gift certificate. I only get back the difference between that and the dress.”
Moron clerk: “Oh Oh Oh, yeah. Ok. Yeah.”
She pulls some bills and some change out - still never having told me what the total has come to with tax, and hands me my change without counting it out to me.
Tryingwithallmymighttobepatient Me: “What was the total on my dress please?”
Moron clerk: “$58.00”
Readytopullmyhairout Me: “No. The total. With the tax.”
Moron clerk: “Oh, Oh. Uhm, $75.00”
Isthiswomanondrugsorwhat? Me: “No, that’s not right either. Can I see the receipt please?” (Which she didn’t bother to give me when she handed me my change - it’s still sticking out of the register.)
Moron clerk hands me the receipt and I see that the total came to $62.79. I then count out the change in my hand (some coins, 2 ones and a 10), saying it out loud and showing the imbecile how it should be counted… 63, 64, 65, 75. Ok, that’s right.
Moron clerk utters another, “Oh, ok,” and then proceeds to turn her back on me and start yacking with another sales clerk on the other side of the counter!
Fittobetiedatthispoint Me: “Hello? Hello? Excuse me, but may I please have my dress now?” (And mind you, I still have not raised my voice one tiny decibel.) Moron clerk takes my dress, still on the hanger, and drops it in the bottom of a gigantic shopping bag. Not folded. No tissue paper. No offer of a hanging bag. I calmly said, “Thank you,” and left, thankful to be away from this sorry excuse for a clerk.
I wish that were the end of the story. Can anyone see it coming?
It’s the night of the party. I have just the right amount of time to shower; do my hair; put on my makeup; press my new, previously wadded up dress; get dressed and leave. I start by taking out the dress (thankfully), and much to my complete horror, the d@mn security tag is still attached to it!!!
Has anyone ever tried to pry one of these things off yourself? Don’t bother. They’re magnetized and nothing but their machines will take it off. I phoned Nordy’s. I’m practically in tears. The sweet woman on the phone put a supervisor on the line, who asked for my address (since I’d made it clear that I simply did not have time to go all the way back to the mall, fight the holiday-shopper-filled parking lot, schlep through the store, get it removed and return home - I had a party I had to be at in one hour. He kindly sent a Nordstrom representative to my house to take the tag off for me.
Now that’s service. But sheesh, what I had to go through to get it!
I didn’t turn into a loud-mouthed buffoon at the counter, but if ever a situation warranted it, I think this would have been it.
Sorry for the long post, but thanks for letting me vent my story
Story Time.
“Did you ever wake up,
Bullfrogs on your–
Bullfrogs on your–
I mean mind?
Did you ever wake up with bullfrogs on your mind?
That’s a sure sign you got bullfrogs on your mind.”
– Wm Harris