Stupidity Shorties Ver. 1

"Where you get a week's worthy of dumbasses in one handy-dandy dose!"

I'd say it was an average week, idiot wise... which isn't saying much.

I had an elderly lady early this week who bought a package of batteries and a couple of cards, which totaled out to $8.77. She decided that she'd pay for her purchase with a check that was written out for $25. No big deal, right? Well, this time was different: her check had her name in the corner..... and that was it. No address, no telephone number, no ID number, no nothing. When I saw this, I literally did a double take. The woman, noticing my confusion, piped up, "You're new here, aren't you?" (Uh, no you stupid old cow, I've worked here for the short term of about FOUR FUCKING YEARS...!) She then prattled on, "I've cashed checks here before." (Suuuuuuuuuuuure. Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiight.) So I called a head cashier. The head cashier looked at the check and asked the old bat if she had her ID. And surprise, surprise, she didn't. "But I've cashed checks like that here before," she kept insisting. The head cashier told her we could happily accept it, if we could see her driver's license. Needless to say, the old bitch got pissed, tore the check out of the lead's hand, and stormed off, sans items.

A couple of days later, I was on an express lane, which is 20 items or less. This dumbass older woman comes up to my lane and starts unloading her cart. She has about fifty fucking items, which don't all fit on my lane, but she doesn't apologize to me or the person who is now waiting behind her. When the bags fill up, she doesn't even try to put them in her cart; she just stands there, as if physical labor is beneath her. Don't ask me how she mustered up the "strength" to unload everything; Gods forbid, the little snob could have broken one of her precious nails. So I load up her cart. Again, she says absolutely nothing, not a brief "thanks", not even a smile. She pays, then leaves, again without saying "thank you". You wanna know something, you snobby bitch with a bad dye job? I didn't have to take your sorry ass. And that customer behind you was well within her right to cuss your snobby little bitch-box out. Sad to say she was too goddamned nice to do it, you wrinkled old hag. But then again, if I was named "Verla", I'd be a bitter old cunt myself.

The next day, I'm on lane 19, situated near the jewelry counter. On one corner of the jewelry counter is our gift registry, which happens to be a major headache to cashier and jewelry associate alike. As I was waiting for a customer to approach my lane, this middle-aged woman taps me on the shoulder and asks, "Can you help me? I can't get the machine to work." She then drags me to the gift registry, which now has an error message on its screen. I flag down the person working in jewelry to come and help. She comes over and gets the machine back to the "Enter first and last name" screen. What was the problem? It appears our customer, in a fit of non-intelligence, decided to enter in only the first two letters of her friend's first and last name. Her response was classic: "Oh, you have to put in the full name? I didn't know that..." (No, lady, you can just plug the fucking machine directly into your brain and using telepathy, it'll automatically know which registry you'll need. Gah, what are you, a fucking moron?!)

And finally, yesterday I was on an express lane again. This little old lady totters up to my counter and starts loading up her items. Of course she's a good 15 over the limit, but she's got to be at least 80 years old, so I seriously doubt she notices that I have only two and a half feet of room on my lane. She has a 12 pack of diet 7Up, which is too heavy for her; she can't lift it. (Now just how in the hell she got that in her cart in the first damned place is beyond me.) So I walk over, pick it up and scan it through. After ringing in the other remaining items, she pulls out a wrinkled old piece of paper. Seems the 7Up was an ad match item. (If you see something advertised in a circular, we can match the price, with a few exceptions.) Trying to repress a sigh and the urge to strangle the old woman, I pick up the 12 pack again, void it out, and re-ring it for the advertised price. She pays and then stands there. Seems she wanted help out to her car. I flagged down a cart pusher and let them take care of her. By then, I'd had my fill of little old ladies, thank you very much.

I deal with this sort of shit on a daily basis. Any wonder why cashiers seem so damn crabby?

--Weasel, repressing the urge to scream while on the clock.