Customer Service...

Since I am feeling more then a little touchy about my job today- they tried to get me to come in and work on my day off, because a co-worker called in, again. Here's a couple lists of things I have compiled in my journal while working there.

Customer Service Bits from a Cashier's perspective-
“Oh, you’re new- where’s the other girl? The one prettier than you?” insert toothless, gum chewing sounds.

Thanks, but I am not you’re “Hun” and I do not respond to a snap of the fingers and pointing like a dog- sorry asshole.

Yes, I know you’re last name on your account- do I care? Not really. Nor can I translate high speed account number speak or think you’re special, wait your turn like everyone else.

Picking on a cashier isn’t nice. Repeatedly picking on a cashier about the same thing for an entire month- gets really old and really fucking annoying.

There are people in this world everywhere that will bitch and dicker about the price of something, these same people will try every trick in the book to make the rebate date on the coupon valid a week after it has expired.

Speaking in a whisper voice so as to not let others know how much money you are spending in a farm store filled with banging, rattling carts and blaring country music is irritating. And if you make the mistake of asking them to speak up a little- they get irritated and pissy.

Creaking, squeaking voiced biddies with that tone of voice you cannot ignore will tell you repeatedly the same bit of useless information, tell you how you are doing your job wrong, and will not be satisfied with any answer you give to their relentless, pointless questions.

Tossing your currency and coin on the counter making me chase it, or much worse laying it out in front of you making me reach for it on a day where I wore a comfy shirt and not my tee shirt in order to get a gander at my boobs is futile. Not cool, grow up, you’re a douche.

Arriving at the store three times in one day, each time smelling more of bourbon whilst tugging your children in tow, hiding your wedding band each time you arrive at my register, then announce you are going to take me to dinner, what’s my number… It's disgusting. Morally and ethically in every way. Your shocked expression when I asked if my husband could come to- priceless.

I'm sorry, did I interrupt your phone conversation by doing my job? Next time, you will be made to wait until you see fit to hanging up the damn phone! Oh he who had a stroke while I was assisting someone else over the store phone.

"Oh, you're a chunky one. Where are the skinny dark haired girls?" They aren't working today, I'm sorry. "Did you go through a management change? I don't know who that big hairy guy is in the back." No management change, but he is a new manager here. "I never seen you before, are you as lazy as you are chunky" No, ma'am- I work four to five days a week. Miss Crankypants McJudgemental (mid 60's age wise) looked like this, by the way- from the bottom up; A leather fanny pack the 80's wants back; a camouflaged thermal with the sleeves cut of showing armpit hair that could be dread-locked; skin the color of an Oompa-Loompa, eyebrows drawn on in the middle of an epileptic seizure, lipstick the color of a flamingo's ass, and a camouflaged ball cap with the words "Turkey Killer for Life" in flaming orange on it. And she was the judgmental one???

And since I do enjoy my job, save for my distaste of country music- here are a few lessons I have learned from country music- side comments in italics of course.

Men want to be rocked like a baby by a hot woman- cause an ugly one wouldn't do it right??

Men cannot operate any motor vehicle if a woman is present or touching them- then maybe she should drive, not you? Meanwhile, texting and driving is bad?

Motorboatin’ is a party in slow motion- wait, what???

It’s five o’clock somewhere- no shit, they are called time zones!

Dudes like kisses sweet as Tupelo honey- not generic, not Michigan- Tupelo.

If you break a redneck’s heart, he will shine the head lights of his Silverado thru your bedroom windows, and throw empty beer cans at you shadow- cause that fixes everything, right up until she slaps you with a personal protection order!

Problems are solved by the smell of a bar and a guitar- ummm, sure.

Redneck men do nothing but drink and work- more excuses to drink rather than work

Country women break up two ways- homicidal or suicidal- enough said.

Country gals are incapable of getting over anything- dead cats, a break-up, lack of alcohol, doing something while drunk- they cannot get over it!

To woo a woman, invite her drinks after work- no strings attached but promise of sex is better

Being broke don’t matter if you have a pick-up truck and open roads- then how do you pay for gas, since you're broke and all...

He don’t take you downtown anymore? Then shave your legs, brush your damn hair, and put on something others then a beer stained moo-moo

That’s how we do ‘round here, is supposed to mean something in redneck-ese

The sentence of “you make me wanna write a song…” is supposed to be romantic. Huh? “And it goes like ooooooohhhhhh want I wouldn’t dooooooo….”- how about, no.

I swear I want to play these songs in reverse so the guy gets back his truck, his girl, and his dead dog. Maybe go so far as to take away his prescription of Viagra as well, since apparently rednecks likes to screw??? Did Garth Brooks sing about sex all the time?? Because I know Buck Owens didn't.


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