Well, but how drunk were you?
I like this post’s potential infinite loop problem.
The only “point” he seems to be making is that he’s a complete tool.
I was a convenience store manager for twelve years. One thing I never did was comment on customers alcohol purchases.
If someone came in once an hour every hour for three days straight and bought a case of beer and a roll of toilet paper each time, I still wouldnt have commented.
I did, however, have customers who would take it upon themselves to explain why they were buying alcohol on subsequent trips. You know: Company showed up. The first case fell off the back of my pickup truck and broke.
I had a trip to a convenience store that bugged the hell out of me, though. Christmas morning 2004, my boyfriend had passed away after an unsuccessful fight with cancer.
Leaving the Hospice residence, I had to stop and get gas. The world seemed strange to me as I had barely been out of the residence in almost two months. I walked in the door of a 7-11 and told the clerk I would like twenty in gas. He says to me: Hey SMILE, things cant be THAT bad !! I managed to force a little smile on my face.
The whole time I was pumping my gas, I was getting mad about it, though. Why the hell would he feel that he needed to comment on the fact that I looked sad?? Why did I feel the need to smile for him so he would feel better?
After I got done pumping gas I went back in the store and asked the guy if he knew where the hospice residence was (as if I was asking for directions). He said he didnt. I pointed to the road I had just come from and told him, it is a couple of blocks down that road and the next time you have a customer come from that direction looking like their world has just ended, maybe it’s because it has. And I turned around and walked out.
It probably didnt do any good, but I hope that clerk realized that personal comments to customers can sometimes be very inappropriate.
So if you think I am wrong, I am therefore illiterate. Interesting.
Please show me how I overreacted. He made his comment, I was mentally pissed but made no mention of it nor did I act on it, and I completed the transaction courteously. If that makes me
well, I can live with that.
If you’re with the Thought Police, I’d like to see some identification.
I’m reading this and realizing that the perfect retirement job for my husband is to be a store clerk. He loves to comment on everything. Maybe after a long day thinking of witty comments he would tire of it and we could have normal conversations at home.
I always hate it when service people pretend to take an interest in me personally and strike up a conversation.
There is this woman at the local Safeway who is always asking how my day is going, what I’m doing. She even gets overly personal and calls me “sweetie”. Very annoying and I have reported her to the management several times. But it does no good.
I’m always, like, “Fuck You, Mom!”
Attacklad and I were recently buying a few items: duct tape, trash bags and bleach and some other stuff. We were wishing we had time to throw in the obvious other items: hacksaw, rope, rubber gloves and anchors.
If the cashiers don’t notice what you’re purchasing, you can’t fuck with their heads.
Why wouldn’t someone want nonfat? Makes the best foam.
I remember the opposite – when I was working at a grocery store, I had a woman come in buying a bunch of cookies. She looked at me and said, “I’m PMSin’ it today, that’s why I’m buyin’ all these cookies.” The stockboy who was bagging for me turned bright red. TMI, thank you very much.
And it will never do any good because her management *wants *her to do that.
A female employee at Publix brought suit against the company because she was instruted to act in just this manner. A male customer took it the wrong way and made unwanted sexual advances to her.
Don’t remember how the suit turned out, but it definitely gave Publix a black eye. But the female employees still do it. I suppose on balance it must be good for business.
Yeah, dude, you’re excellent at picking up those subtle cues in interpersonal communication.
I’d say that list needs context. I drink about 4x a year and I can hit 3/10 (4 if I include #4. I mean it’s more that I don’t want to than I can’t but still ;))
Another sign of a drunk: inability to recognize a whoosh. 
:smack:
No, that you’re wrong is a separate issue. You are apparently illiterate because you can’t read your own OP. Your OP stated that the clerk said
And later you claimed that he said
No where in our discussion was there a mention of “rephrasing your interpretation” until I pointed out that you were being disingenuous regarding what the clerk actually said.
You took a harmless bit of conversation and blew it up in your mind to the point of wanting to yell fuck at the pobe. And then you came in here huffing and puffing about it.
But hey, don’t let me rain on your parade. Carry on with it. I simply offered my opinion that that you needed to let it go. Honestly I don’t care. I’ll just create a little avatard of you in my mind for future dealings…
He’s just cranky because he hasn’t started his daily drinking.
See, this is why the board needs rimshot, slide whistle, bouncing spring, and needle-scratching-across-a-record sound drops.
Oh HELL yeah! I’ll take those over avatars any day.
Good Pitting!
I recognize that people behind the counter are people too, and when cashiers are friendly I generally play along. But when they are judgmental about what you bought, or overly snotty, I like to fire back a snappy answer.
Two come to mind, feel free to use them if you wish:
At a deli counter I got some low sodium ham and then got a couple knishes (which are kinda salty.) The doofus gives me this “You’re getting low-salt ham AND knishes” to which I responded “My mother is still alive. When she dies you can have the job.” Shut the little bitch right up.
The second time that comes to mind was when I bought live lobsters in a supermarket. They had a special deal on them. The guy at the register is some smartass that says to me, condescendingly “You know, these things are like the garbage cans of the oceans, I wouldn’t eat them!” Without missing a beat, I replied “Well then it’s a damn good thing you’re not invited to my house, isn’t it?” The woman behind me in line did a loud snort, then bit her lip. I complained to the manager about him, saying that if I buy expensive seafood here I don’t want to be judged by some schmuck at the register. Turns out “Steve at register” number four is “special.” So I was glad I didn’t say what I REALLY wanted to say…It’s NOYFB, just bag the stuff asshole! People suck.