2001-11-02 - 4:16 a.m.
Grr. I'm not going to be able to sleep until I write this down. Days like yesterday remind me why I'm leaving my job. I know, I know, life is life. You have to coexist with people you don't like for whatever reason, get over it, says Rory Gilmore. Yeah. I get that. But some days, you just gotta run.
The eighth day-before you quit your job is one of those days. You need the money you'll be making in the next week so you can move up, move on, move out, whatever it is you want to do.
So you go over to the information desk where three people are waiting, two of whom you have already dealt with. Two women, one of whom has a husband who has gone upstairs to use the loo: all three of whom have pestered you and two other workers about employment at your store.
Three of you, one of those three a manager, who have repeatedly told them that the person in charge of hiring and firing and wages is not here, we don't know when he'll be back, we don't know what positions are open, we don't know what the start wage is, and (duh) of course you will get at least minimum wage (that's why they call it a minimum, dumbass).
Anyway, when the one lady cuts in front of the other two and shows you an ad for a free movie pass, you smile and hand her one. And when she says, "Can I have one for my friend? He's not here but I told him I'd get him one," you smile, point to the ad she just showed you and say, "I'm sorry, the ad says limit one per person."
When she says, "Well, I told him I'd get it" you explain that the passes don't belong to you, you don't make the rules, the publication promoting the movie has sent the passes and we have to abide by the rules set forth in the ad, she drops the act and goes, "but I drove all the way from West Hollywood* to get them," you offer to call a manager.
*what does she mean, "all the way"? like she had to hike uphill through snow? like she crossed time zones? hah! more like fifteen minutes on the freeway, bitch!
You page. Meanwhile, the two pushy women turn in their applications and say they'd like free passes too. You smile and hand them one each. They look at the passes and go, well, can we have one more for her husband who is upstairs using the loo?
You refuse. They say, but you saw him. You know he's here. He's just using the loo. He'll be right down. You cave. Meanwhile the manager has not responded. You page again. The first woman says, hey, you gave them three passes. You say, yes, but they have three people. Her husband is upstairs using the loo. The woman loses it and rants, that's not FAIR! You gave them an EXTRA one, why won't you give ME one? It's for my FRIEND, and I drove all the way from WEST HOLLYWOOD!!!
You give her one to shut her up. They all wander away and browse. You feel like killing all three of them. You spent the night before watching Evil Dead movies, and you think you could probably do a pretty good job of dismemberment.
But you know what? It's okay, because tomorrow you'll be seven days away from quitting, and you hope that some other bitch-ass freak comes in with an ad asking for two passes when they are only one person, because then you can smile and say, I'm sorry, the ad says "Limit one per person."
And when they say, "But it's for my friend," you smile and say, "The pass is for two people, you and a friend."
And when they say, "But I'm taking someone, and my friend is taking someone," you smile and say, "Then your friend has to come here and pick up a pass."
And when they say, "But I told them I'd get it and I drove all the way from [insert name of a town 15 minutes away]," you smile your biggest retail smile and say loudly:
You know what? Take as many as you want (bitch-ass). Take the whole stack, even! Because obviously when they said "Limit one per person," they didn't mean you (in-breeder). I mean, who made that up anyway (nitwit)? It's not like they're doing it to be fair to other people who want free movie passes; they just had that blank space on the ad and thought, huh, let's say "Limit one per person," just for kicks! They're just letters strung together, they don't really mean anything (ho-bag). L-I-M-I-T. O-N-E. P-E-R. And well, your friend is a PERSON, isn't he (prostitute)? He's not a dog or a stuffed animal or anything, so he should get one (dildo). And you promised, so I have to give you one. Is there anything else I can get for you today? A manager? Coming right up. While we wait, could I validate your parking?
Pfft. I am the queen of customer disservice.
Retail timeloop ending in seven days. T minus 49 hours...
