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Some really smart and nice people let their kids do some really stupid stuff inside stores, and are amazed by the idiotic things that happen to them.

Today was a great example.

I had this rather nice family come into my store.  Very pleasant people.  Mom was trying to get her two daughters supplied for dance class.  She was asking some very detailed and pointed questions with the clear intent to get her kids into the right product for them.  Kudos, Mom.  Dad was kind off in oblivion, with a Just-Get-This-Over-With stare and comments.  The two kids were overloaded with sugar.  It's just not fair to have that kind of energy around someone who is still half asleep...

Anyhow, this family was trying on shoes.  One daughter would try on the tap shoes, and the other would run around the store like she was at in the running for the Kentucky Derby, (and winning by 3 furlongs...).   Then they would trade off.  Dad was muttering for them to slow down and behave, but his heart clearly wasn't in it.

Now the problem is where they were before they came to my store.  The previous store sold them two light-up jump ropes.   All was good till Mom decided to let the girls play with them inside my store!

You see the problem with this?

Suddenly my quaint little shoe store became Gold's Gym for the superjuvenile set.   Displays are going flying, people complaining, girls slugging each other with lit up ropes like some sort of sick 80's fetish...   It just was not a pretty site.

And Mom is sitting in the aisle wondering why people are going apeshit!

____________________________________

I have three employees that speak Farsi (a Persian language).  Farsi supposedly is one of the toughest languages to learn, but that isn't stopping my girls from trying to teach me.  So far, I have mastered one word ("Hello"), and I am slowly picking up a couple of others.  

I really think the girls are doing this to me so they can make fun of the way I talk.  It's giving them quite a laugh.

Now it's really a good thing for me to learn this, since my store has a high percentage of Persian speaking customers.   (I am also learning Spanish for the other dominant language in my area, with a bit more success!) 

Naturally, if I am involved, something is going to go horribly wrong, with some sort of hideous result.   Today, it happened.

I was working alone in the store when two Persian ladies came in.  One was about my age, and the other was born sometime about the time the dinosaurs got wiped out (I mean, she was a walking fossil, completely hunched over and barely moving!).   I said hello to them as they entered, as per our policy (and just trying to be nice... I know, I know... it's not me).   The younger lady said hello in unaccented English.  The biddy turned to me and with all her effort, barely squawks out "salam" (IE hello).  I turned to her and replied "salam".   Her eyes got HUGE (think dinner plates the size of Texas) and just kept craning her neck at me as she walked past.  

I think she wet herself.

It was all I could do to not laugh at her response.

The younger lady told me as she left that the biddy was shocked that anyone like me (IE straight white boy) would even try to speak her language.   She truly did not know how to react!

Who says old people aren't fun?

Dream a New Dream

This may get a bit random, a bit wordy and a lot introspective.  If you don't want to deal with it, don't read.

I finally replaced my computer that died in December, so I should be posting more soon.  Today's post is probably going to have very little to do with retail since I am on vacation this week.  Sorry.   

I turned 38 yesterday.   I am incredibly shocked I have lived this long.  When I was in high school, I always believed that I would never live past 30.   So you can imagine me laying awake the night of my 30th birthday, waiting in terror for the lightning bolt that was going to take me out.   At the time, I don't recall if I was relieved it didn't happen, or disappointed.  Now I am glad it didn't.  But it still scares me every year on the night before my birthday.  I mean, what if I was off in my count?   The night before I turn 40 is going to be a real nail biter, that's certain.

The last few days have brought me into contact with some people I figured I would never hear from again, or if I did, it would be at high school or college reunions.   A couple of them have just sent messages online, others have taken the time to chat.  I am grateful for both.   And I look forward to hearing from more people.  Hopefully, they will see I have grown (I hope I have), and I hope they see their influence on me over time.  I may not have talked to them over the years for various reasons, but there really hasn't been a time when I wasn't thinking of them.

The people who have found me (or been crazy enough to let me contact them) have been amazing.   

I ran found my old speech/debate coach from high school, a man I highly respect.  He took the time to have faith and work with someone with very little talent and gave that person the belief that anything is possible.   Thank you, Mickey Martin (Bet you forgot how we tormented your Mickey tie all those years ago!).

My college roommate and I traded emails for the first time in 15 years.   Kegger appears to be doing great.  Still bleeds SMC Blue and Red, which is as it should be.   I don't know that he ever had a bad day at SMC.   And I bet he still has some great college stories for his friends and family.   Of course, he figures large in several of my best memories from SMC, but those are for another time.

Another friend took the time to get me into contact with other friends.  Her road through life seems to mirror mine.   Some rough times, some really great times, and finally coming to terms with everything and just enjoying each day while trying to better herself.  Talking to her really made me think about everything I went through in high school, and that I had to come to terms with things.   Point Blank, she set the example.  Thank you.

I was shocked to learn that people from both the high schools I attended are close to where I live.  I would love to sit down over coffee with them and just talk.  I can tell they have some amazing stories to tell, and I would love to listen.   

Another friend was found for the second time.   The Bishop and I reconnected some ten years ago via my ex in Kansas City.  She had told me I would love her boss's husband.  Turns out he and I went to high school together and were involved in drama at the same time.   When she and I split, I lost contact with the Bishop and his wife.  Last night, I got to talk to both of them.   I plan on not losing contact with these people this time!

I sat around last night looking on Facebook at some of the profiles of people I remember from high school and college.  Married, Doctor's degrees, families... it just makes me understand that I grew up around a ton of really remarkable people.  I have been lucky.

I don't think my road has been anything special.  I really do think I am like a lot of people.  I had my problems, but I had my highs as well.   My lows include a couple of suicide attempts, some failed engagements, a dream destroyed while out running, loss of some really great friends, a bought with alcohol, and just overall abusing myself.  I don't see myself as anything special, just another person.   No matter what image I portray, it's how I have always thought of myself.  Nothing special, and truth be told, probably a little less than most.

For years I was told (and diagnosed) with depression.  One "family" member even played amateur psychologist and told me to work out the issues with my father (imagine his surprise when my real doctor told him HE was the issue, not my father, and that I had actually done a really nice job dealing with that mess!).   About 4 years ago, after a stint in a mental hospital for a suicide attempt, a doctor realized that my problem wasn't depression.  I suffer from an anxiety disorder that causes depression and SERIOUS panic attacks.   Since that revelation, I have been depression free (aside from the normal ups and downs of everyday life).   That doctor saved my life.

I had three engagements blow up in my face.  The first was just a mess after I graduated college.  To this day, I think I was just being used to get back at her old boyfriend.  I don't talk to her anymore (haven't since 1994), so I will never know.  Not sure I really care, either.   The next was with me for 4 years.  We lived together, had everything planned.  Then she decided she wanted to be alone.  I later discovered she was seeing someone from her work.  End of that.   The third I caught with a friend in a compromising position.   Trust became a bit difficult for me at that point.  Still is, but my current fiancee is working on it.   

I have been a physical wreck in my mind.  Five knee operations since 1992, an elbow operation a couple of years ago, and now the doctors are telling me that there is a chance they will have to operate on my shoulder to clean it up (but they are trying to prevent that).   I have put on too much weight, which I am hoping to lose this year, but I don't expect miracles.  I just hope to improve myself.

The highs have been great as well.  I did some skydiving.  I have travelled most of this country.  I have met and made friends all over the world.  I have been living my sports dream of seeing games (NFL, MLB and NHL) in as many cities as I can.  I am engaged to the most wonderful woman in the world, even if we drive each other crazy.  Somehow, it just wouldn't be right if we didn't drive each other bunny nuts.

My dreams out of high school were to go into the Marines, complete with a stint at the Naval Academy.   That didn't happen when I blew my knee out.   Backup plans were to get a degree in Performing Arts and possibly act or direct, and eventually get a law degree.  I got the first degree and I worked as a Tech Director of a Dance company for two years.  I lived the acting side of it doing regional work for a couple of years before realizing the job I had taken to pay the bills was what I truly enjoyed.  I now work a job that many think is below me, but that's their perception and problem.  I love retail.  I love the people.  I love the insanity.   

The most important thing I have done in my life is to come to terms with myself.   I am who I am.   Deal with it.  I have finally learned how to do just that.

I hope that some of the classmates, old work acquaintances and friends will see this and get in touch.  I offer no apologies for the past, nor do I want any for actions from them.  Those actions made us who we are.  I will not deny the past.  I will learn from it daily.

I will say one thing... thanks to all of you.  For the highs and lows.  And for what may come.

Dreams come and go.  So when one fails, dream a new dream.

'Tis the Season to Bitch Bitch Bitch

Xmas is (finally) over.

In theory, this means no more screaming twits for another year.  And their kids are just as bad, but I know they are a year round event.

This year wasn't anything memorable at work.  People came in, bought stuff and left.   Most of the whining I got was from people wondering why certain other businesses in my complex have closed, or swearing that X business was open just yesterday and gone today (it's been closed for a year, you mental mini midget), or that prices have gone waaaaaay up.

Tis the season to bitch.

I had a few really good ones, but not much memorable.

The best one was the Heely's incident, and it happened Christmas Eve (I guess there really is a Sandy Claws).

This one family came into the store, with the middle child skating around on her Heely shoes.  (I absolutely HATE those things as they are a safety risk, both to the person wearing them and those around them that they skate into.)  This child insisted on skating in the store, so I asked her to not skate in my store as she could get hurt.   A few minutes later, I see her skating again.  This time, I tell the birth defect to not skate in the store or I would have to ask her to leave.  I see her a few minutes later skating again.   This time, I tell her mother that the child will have to stop skating for safety reasons (hooks and racks are painful to hit and can do serious damage if you fall on them).   Mother Knows Best just looked at me like I was insane.  I walked away stating I had warned them.

A few minutes later, I hear this loud SMACK and boxes falling (we have items on shelves on top of our racks... fortunately for this snowflake, they were only 3 deep).   A short moment later, I hear Precious let out a Banshee scream after 3 boxes of shoes maliciously attacked her for skating into her fixture.   My first thought was that I warned the child, and I hoped she was okay and hadn't hurt anyone else.  NOW the fun begins.

Before I can get over to check out the situation, Momma is in my face attacking me for moving the racks in front of her child while she was skating in my store, even after I had asked both mother and child to cease.   It was clearly my fault for moving the rack, which is over 400 pounds and bolted to the floor, in front of her child.  And I deliberately put the boxes on top and pushed them onto the twerp when she slammed face first into the shelves, even though I was on the other side of the store at the time.

Am I missing something here?

I also had my human wrecking crew in.  This family is very nice, except that the mother lets all three kids run around my store, opening stuff, tearing things apart and then leaving.  IF she buys anything at all, it's usually under $10, while her heathens have done over $100 in damage to my store.  All the while, she insists she is my best customer, because of how much she spends in my store, and the fact that she is in all the time (I see her about once every 3 months).

This visit was not any different.  The oldest boy proceeded to tear apart every slipper package I had (just before the peak buying time on them).  He wore slippers all over the store, and even out of the store (without paying for them) before his mother got him back in.  The middle daughter opened up every pair of tights we had (again, during my peak season to sell them).  The youngest one discovered my sunglasses and jewelry fixture, took everything off, and proceeded to dance on them.

All told, about $250 in damages done.

They bought $17 worth of shoes.

Merry Fucking Christmas to you, too, lady.   

And to top it off, I discovered this visit that she works retail as well!

Other stuff happened.  My DM held his annual Xmas breakfast, which meant a ton of store visits since he holds it at the restaurant across the street from my store.  Yup, all 25 managers in our district pop in and pick my store apart.  Fun times.

The only thing I have to look forward to is vacation next month.  I think I will sleep the entire week.

BossLady got part of what she wanted for Xmas... She got her Guitar Hero.      And yes, she can seriously kick my ass in it.

My PC died the big death.  The mother board fried, so I am not going to be posting as often, since I have to steal BossLady's computer to do so.   Hopefully, I can get the computer I want sometime in January, and things will be back to (insanity) normal.

By the way.... SLICK>>>  where'd ya go???????

Anyhow, hope you had a great holiday, whatever you celebrate/ignore/plot.  Be safe and have fun, and happy New Year. 

Fruitcake

'Tis the season for fruitcake.

I hate the holidays.

I really hate fruitcake.


Why is it the holidays bring out the worst in people? The me-first attitude and those that want to use any biological difference as a way to get ahead? Or those too good to get off the phone when they talk to you?

I'm talking about people that expect the world to revolve around them. The ones that were born with the universe owing them EVERYTHING. Those that use everything as an excuse. Look at me cross-eyed? That's an excuse for me to accuse you of every venal sin ever imagined, and a few yet to come.

Yup, Today was fun.



My first fun fruitcake today was a lady that called early in the day. I was working alone on a busy Sunday. I had several customers in line and more in the aisles. Up to this point, I was doing a decent job of balancing the register with service for those in the aisles. Then the phone rang.

This fruit wanted me to look for a shoe for her boy. No problem, just allow me to finish the transaction I was in and I would look. I was told that it could not wait. I told her I would look as soon as I finished, but I couldn't even look until I freed the register so I could check inventory. She agreed to wait.

As soon as I did look, she started asking detailed questions about the product. I answered her. Then she asked me to look for another item. I advised her I had a line at my register that I must help, and that I could call her back when I had no line. She said she would wait.

So I help the line. One customer, Hispanic, complimented me on my patience with everyone (IE being able to help everyone and the customer on the phone... she was happy with me... I musta done fucked up somehow).

As I am ringing on the register, we could all hear the woman screaming at her kids about how the "idiot" on the other end of the phone was ignoring at random, and how she should come before anyone else since she was looking to buy two items.

I finally get back to the phone, locate the items she wants (I don't have them, but another store nearby does). I offer to hold the ones I do have, and she declines.

That's the end of her, right?

Hollow laugh.

Later in the day, she calls back and demands the same information from my part time help. My part-timer, who is relatively new, asks me every question that the fruitcake asks me. After the third question, I know who it is. The conversation ends with Doc offering to hold the merchandise. Again, declined.

But that's not the end.

Late in the day, she comes to my store and chews me and my newest associate out (not the one that got the call) for NOT putting her items on hold. We offer to do this twice, she declined both times, and it's OUR fault it's not on hold? What am I missing here?

I take the time to help her find what I found for her two other times today via phone. She then lays into me because I don't carry certain items that she wants. I explain that I have a smaller store, and as a result, I don't get everything my company carries. She then rips me for not forcing my buyers to send it to me. I then get a new one plastered on me since I am an ass for not knowing exactly what items and what sizes are coming on my next truck (my paperwork just tells me I have a truck coming with X number of cases).

There was just no pleasing this fiend.

I just thanked her for coming in and walked away.


My second fruitcake was one that gets under my skin easy. The "race" card.

I initiated contact with this piece of work by approaching her and her party in the aisle. I said hello and offered to help them locate their choice of items. I then told them about our current promotion and told them to call me if they needed anything before I got back to them. I then went to check on my other customers.

A few minutes later, I popped my head around the corner and asked, "are you still doing all right?". I got an earful as she was talking on her blue tooth, "I am shopping and I am not buying here. I refuse to shop where they stare at me like I am gonna steal just because I am [race excluded]".

This "lady" then went around accosting all my other customers complaining about the racist treatment she had been receiving, since I was "profiling" her and "accusing" her of theft because of her race. This actually got a laugh from a customer, who told her all she heard was me just offering to help.

I finally approached her and asked just what I did that accused her of anything. She said I was constantly checking on her to keep her from stealing. I replied that I was sorry she thought that, but I was just checking to see if she was in need of assistance, just like I do every customer that comes into my store.

She asked to see the manager. I replied, "How can I help you?" and pointed to the Store Manager badge I had on.

She finally had her family member tell her to shut up. They bought their items and left.

So apparently I am racist because I offered to treat you like every other customer in my building... smiling and offering to assist you and telling you about the deals we have, just as our corporate directive tells us to do.

Am I missing something?


As a general rule, if someone is on a cell phone, I offer to assist them quietly, and thereafter just touch base with them using a nod or hand signals until I am certain they are off their phone. Most of the time, and good smile and wave are all it takes for them to know I am there if they have a need.

Then there are the self important pricks who think the world is theirs to command.

A young lady came into the store today, and I said hello and realized quickly she was on her cell phone. I passed her in the aisles a couple of times, each time offering a quiet but noticeable "you doing OK?" as she was yakking away on the rap rod. Each time, I was ignored, even though eye contact was made.

She finally made it to the register, still managing the ear pollution for some poor soul on the other end of the connection. I complete the transaction, hand her the receipt, and she ends her phone conversation. Then the shit went postal.

"Thanks for the help. NOT!" she sniped at me and Doc.

I just said "thank you" and walked away.

Look, if you are in a conversation, I was taught not to interrupt. I made attempts to work with you, which you acknowledged. Don't get your shorts up your ass because I won't kiss your ass when you ignore me.

Besides, I don't care who your friend got blown by last night. If you are at my register, pay for your shit and get out. If you don't have the decency to talk to me, I am not going to talk to you.




I really hate fruitcake.

6 Hour Commutes SUCK

Today was BossLady and My 2 year anniversary together. We spent the day (Wednesday) like we did our very first together-- At Disneyland.

The story goes something like this, and it starts in Fremont, CA (near San Jose/San Francisco/Oakland)...

BossLady had the misfortune to work for me a couple of years ago. I had been transferred to her store because I was to have surgery on my arm, and that store was a much slower volume location. The thinking was being slower volume, I could work with my arm in a cast and not get hurt (my DM failed to take my stubborn-assed work ethic into account).

BossLady had started about two weeks before I got to that location. So not only was she being broken into the new guy, she was being broken into the store in general (and she will KILL me if I have my timing wrong... or for just mentioning this... I am dead either way).

Things started well. It wasn't long before I realized that she had talent. I could ask her to do anything and she usually with, though it would cost me a smart ass remark or four. Fair trade.

I started calling her "Crazy Lady" with a smile. She replied by calling me "Psycho Man". We got along great.

I then vanished for a bit, having my surgery on my arm.

When I got back, we ended up talking a lot, along with a few others who constantly ended up on the same shift. We all became pretty good friends.

About this time, she had a medical issue of her own that was quite serious and missed a lot of work. She would bounce in just to let us know she was still alive, and during one of those visits, I gave her my number and told her to call if she needed to talk.

A week or so later, while I was in physical therapy getting the living beejeezus zapped out of my arm (this is rehab? having some crazy woman apply electrodes to my arm and set them for extra crispy?), I got a text message. It was from BossLady. The great text war was on.

For the next few weeks, she seemed only capable of messaging me while I was being fried in PT.

Fortunately, she returned to work, though with a downer. She was leaving for school in Southern California soon. Real bummer.

Before she could leave for Long Beach, I got transferred back to the store I loved in San Francisco. BossLady had a surprise for me. My last day at Fremont, she met me in the parking lot with a gift bag as a going away present. She had several items in it for me, but what stood out were the three CD's she burned for me to listen to while I was sitting on BART.

Those CD's told a story, or so I thought.

A few weeks later, in August, she left for Long Beach. I was not happy. We hadn't developed any real closeness yet, but we had been talking so much, I was certain I was losing a good friend. I mean, she certainly wouldn't waste time talking to me from that far away...

Almost immediately, I found I was wrong. I got a bajillion text messages from her each day. If I forgot my phone at home, I got chewed out when I got home and online from her for ignoring her. We talked every night for hours online. She even called me at home in Fremont and asked me for directions in Orange County (which is SoCal... I was in NorCal!).

What all this did was prove to me just how special she was.

Then the wars began.

Each of us would go through a phase where we realized we were too close to each other and back off. We would even go so far as to tell the other it wasn't working, and we would never hear from the other again. Bitter fights. Very stressful.

It finally came down to her telling me we were through and that was it. I called her and we fought. And I do mean fought. We were yelling, screaming, crying into the phone. I know I was pounding the walls, my bed, kicking the cat... you name it. I finally challenged her to say goodbye to my face when she came home for Thanksgiving.

That holiday was hell. We met at a bookstore in Fremont late in the evening. I knew it was goodbye. I was terrified. We ended up just walking around and talking for a few hours. We went to my studio and shared our photos. We left that night in peace.

The day before the holiday, she met me in the City for lunch at Blondie's Pizza on Powell. We spent my lunch hour walking around Union Square.

She surprised me by texting me on Thanksgiving. I had gone with a friend's family to dinner in Modesto, while she was with her family.

The day after, she called me and asked me if I wanted to meet her for coffee after work before she went to see a friend in Santa Rosa. I agreed. We met and talked for an hour or so. As she went to her car, we took the first two photos of us together.

That night, I got a series of very interesting phone calls from a very plastered BossLady.

I was now so confused that I gave idiots a bad rap.

She called me one more time that weekend to meet me for breakfast the day she left. As we went to our cars, she took a photo of me. I am NOT photogenic at all (Kodak is terrified of my image... they pay me to stay away from their cameras!.. I wish), but I let her. We then got in our cars and headed out, her for Long Beach, me for BART.

It was a long day.

I didn't hear from her that night. I dealt with it by getting drunk.

The next day, I got home and turned on the computer and got surprise. On her yahoo360 blog was a photo of me. And it looked amazing. To this day, I don't know how she got such a good image of me.

That night, we talked. I had just reconciled myself to the fact that she would not be happening for me when she dropped the bomb on me. She was interested, and that she was tired of hiding behind her fears.

She had decided to go for it.

My next day off was 5 December. I talked my boss into giving me an early (IE 5am to 2pm shift) so I could sneak down to LA for a day. My boss (love that woman!) gave me a better deal... 5am to 10am. I told BossLady to be ready as I was making a suicide trip down to see her.

I bolted from work that day and made the six hour drive in something like 4. The entire drive down the 5 was a blur.

That first night, 4 December, will always be burned in my mind. I stayed at my mother's place in Anaheim, and I remember talking to her how I felt like I was 15 going on my first date. I was terrified of the trip to Long Beach.

I went. We went to dinner in Cerritos, then down to Irvine (ironically, less than 2 miles from where I now work!) and played minigolf and hit in the batting cages. We ended the night by the Queen Mary in Long Beach with our first kiss.

The next day, 5 December, was magic. We went to Disneyland and discovered just what we truly are-- two overgrown kids. We spent the day riding our rides, talking and just being together. Disneyland lived up to it's slogan of "where dreams come true" for me that day. It was magic.

The day ended, and hell began.

We went back to my mother's place in Anaheim, and I packed my things up for the drive home. Leaving was hell. I think we shot about 200 text messages before I cleared the Grapevine (North of LA). It was snowing that night, so driving over the pass was not fun. The drive took forever. Getting home was... empty.

I learned two things that day.

First, six hour commutes REALLY suck.

Most important, I didn't want to live without BossLady in my life.

Wednesday was a reminder of that magical day for me. We got to the park, had breakfast, walked around arm in arm, rode the rides, took pictures (some are posted here, others on myspace...http://www.myspace.com/redgael94 if you want to see) and just had fun. We did the same thing last year, and probably will for the rest of our lives.

Thanks BossLady, for taking that chance two years ago.

Evil Incarnate

I have decided after this weekend that I am evil incarnate.

Seriously.

Every time I went to measure a kids' feet using the Brannock device (foot scale), I ended up with a screaming heebeejeebee. And it's not like this scale is scary or anything. At worst, it's a cold piece of metal. But put it in my hands near a bed wetting toddler, and the banshees come out in force.

It really makes me wonder.

Yesterday was a great example.

Two kids were playing with the scales while their parents shopped. Each kept taking turns running behind the counter and grabbing the devices. They would then run around (literally) the store swinging the scales until the other relented to have their foot measured. All fun and games (except for the customers that we cannot help since we can't find the scales now!).

Until it's their turn.

The parents finish demolishing the section of the store that they think they own, and now it's time to put shoes on the snowflakes. All hell is about to come crashing down about our ears.

Mom (usually) or Dad comes up to us and asks us to measure the feet. In yesterday's case, it was Mom.

First things first, I have to have a Brannock device. We keep some behind our counter, and a couple up high at the end of the aisles, so no problem.

Remember, these fiends have been playing with these same scales, laughing and running and basically terrorizing the entire store, just moments before all this...

I kneel down and talk to the snowflake, asking if they are having fun, smiling the entire time.

Snowflake takes one look at me, one look at the scale and decides this ain't happening.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

I am sure the scream was audible somewhere in the orbit of Neptune.

Little Precious now starts kicking and yelling, pointing at the scale. Tears are falling fast enough to flood the Mojave. Other customers look at us either in fear, wondering what we are doing to the poor child, or in sympathy, or relief since it isn't their child--yet.

Mom is looking at me with apology all over her face.

The other child, in the spirit of the moment, decides they want attention. She starts screaming with the intent of setting off new decibel records.

Mom thanks me for the effort, and says she will just guess on size unless she can talk Snowflake into being measured. I tell her that I will leave her the scale and give her a brief how-to on using it should the twerp decide to be measured.

I get up, leave the scale on a bench and walk towards another customer.

INSTANT silence from Snowflake.

It's got to be me that Snowflake hates.

It's okay. I am not exactly her biggest fan either.

After all, I am evil incarnate.

Blah Friday

Black Friday was a real let down this year.

I am not talking about the sales.

I am talking about the people.

Normally, I get something to happen that just makes me laugh my (considerable) ass off, or makes me shake my head and wonder how the human race has managed to survive this far.

This year, NADA.

What a waste.



In years past, I have had some really stupid people out there. The Furby incidents, the Tickle-Me-Elmo fights, the idiots camping out at 4 in the morning... this list never ends.

One incident I don't think I have relayed before goes back over ten years to when I worked at Kohl's in Overland Park, KS.

It was about 9 AM and the lines were about 10 deep on all 23 registers. We had 3 people working each register (one ringing, two bagging), and yet one woman had the nerve to start bitching about the day.

"I can't believe they don't have more people ringing!" Or "Why can't they move faster!" and my all time favorite, "Why do they let so many fucking people in here today?"

About this time, most of the people I worked with were reading to go Olympic on her, and invite her to a javelin toss, receiving end. But being the nice, friendly, considerate corporate slugs we were, we said nothing and smiled.

However, that didn't stop the people in line from saying what we wanted.

It was a beautiful moment. SuperBitch was in my line for her purchase, ranting all the time. The line was moving nicely (she had only been in line about 5 minutes, but it was an eternity to us), and most of the people were upbeat.

Finally, a lady in front of her decided she had had enough.

"Look, bitch. If you don't like crowds like today, why did you set foot outside the day after Thanksgiving, KNOWING how busy it was going to be?"

It was all we could do to not applaud her for saying what we so dearly wanted to.



Anyhow, hope you all had a great holiday. I got to pick BossLady up from the airport (she went to Vegas and didn't win enough for me to retire yet... bummer), and cook a not-so-traditional Thanksgiving dinner of Enchiladas. BossLady was happy, and that's all that matters.

Next up on our agenda, Disneyland for our 2 year anniversary (from the first date). More on that later, tho....