Please fire me. I work at an coffee shop near an Ivy League campus and these spoiled, rich students are generally terrible customers. And one time, a parent of one of these kids came in, and was digging around for the change for her coffee. When she realized she didn’t have it, she reached her slimy old hand into my tip jar and pulled out the change she needed!
Today, I fucked up... by telling an attractive stranger I loved him
I was working at the grocery store, stocking shit, when an attractive guy comes up to me and asks me about a particular brand of canned tomatoes.
He says, “I could use these tomatoes for salsa, right?”
His attractiveness was making me nervous. I mean, I really wished he could’ve approached someone else to ask. In my head, I’m like a teenage girl replacing his last name with mine and naming our future children. I reply (thinking wtf how am I supposed to know if it’s good for salsa?), “Yeah! haha they’re great. I love you.” Clear. As. Day.
He pauses for a moment and furrows his brow. “Did you just say I love you?”
Why couldn’t he have just brushed it off?? I honestly don’t know why he said that but at this point, I can feel my face absolutely burning red and I feel lightheaded with embarrassment. Being the socially-awkward dummy I am, I ramble off: “Tomatoes. I mean I love tomatoes hahaha why would I say I love you? So weird right? I meant to just say ‘them’–not you. I don’t know you hahahaha.” (I can’t remember the exact rant, but it was definitely along these lines and probably twice as weird)
He looks absolutely creeped out. I think it was mostly my ramble in explanation. Looking back, I could’ve totally just laughed it off and told him, “Sorry, long day. I meant the tomatoes.”
So he just says, “…Thanks…” awkwardly and walks off. I hear him asking a coworker the same question.
I’m gonna be hearing about this from my brain before I go to bed for the next ten years.
”Well I shouldn’t say I told you so, ‘cause it’s not strong enough. How about, I’m always right, and you should listen to whatever I have to say, and never disagree ever for the sake of your wolvlihood.”
Please fire me. I think we all know working retail sucks, with rude customers and high expectations when you’re just one person. But when you’re desperate enough to work at Dollar Tree of all places, you know it’s bad. (And yes, you “funny” customer, everything IS INDEED a fucking dollar.)
My job description is basically “cashier first, stocker second”. But apparently no one told me I was also a janitor, a babysitter, a shrink, and the brains behind the manager who can’t think for himself half the time. Okay fine, I’ll clean up your crap that you’re too lazy to put back in its original spot that’s two feet away from you. Fine, I’ll watch your kid for a moment if you need to use the restroom. I’ll listen if you really want to tell me about the shitty day you’ve been having prior to coming to my register. Okay manager, I’ll handle the customer for a few minutes while you back me up on the register.
However, if you’re going to take all the shit from the party aisle and shove it into the empty cavity on the shelf specifically made for bread, get out of my store. If your child won’t listen to me after I’ve told them 4 times to stop pulling the balloons out of the corral, you need to put your child on a leash. If you’re going to blame me for your shitty day and take all your frustration out on me, then I WILL make myself the reason you’re not in control of your own damn life. And manager, for the love of whatever you believe in, do your fucking job as a manager and not talk to your wife about moving to Florida in *certain time frame*; stop bullshitting on the side-lines and help me on the register when I need it.
Don’t argue with me over something coming out to $1.06 because you didn’t think to bring change with you for tax. Don’t argue with me when I say we only do exchanges and that I am not authorized to do full refunds. And especially don’t argue with me when your card declines and you don’t carry cash.
And I swear, if you come into my store, and I have a small line of two people, and you want a new line to open because you woke up late for work and you’re too damn impatient to purchase a single bottle of water, I will gladly step away from my register to hand you an application so you can ring up your own fucking water, you impatient, sweaty, suit-and-tie dickweed.