Sunday, February 17, 2008

I don't hate the handicapped. I hate my job.

Anger in fits today. My assistant manager asked me why everone was complaining about the schedule. I told my manager that he cut too many hours. During christmas season the store had 470 hours for the clerks to share. This week we have 36o. I guess the recession is in full swing. Management had me working 6 days last week, but even with 6 work day I got only 28 hours.

"Now they want to cut the work days too." I told the manager. "I could have had 4 days off this week if I wanted."

"Well that's pretty cool." He says. "Only if you don't like paying your bills." I remind him.



I can feel the anger swelling in me today. I mutter under my breath everytime a customer does something stupid, or asks me for something. "Is it them or me?" I ask around the store. I think I just described my whole day, except for the handicapped guy wants me to sell him beer, even though his girlfriend can't produce identification.

"I have to bring someone with me to help me shop." He implores. "No you don't." I tell him. "We can always have some one assist you with shopping, but we can never sell alcohol to an underaged person." I'm no lawyer and he claimed the girl with him was just an "assistant," so I sold him the beer. Turns out the assistant was his girlfriend. At the self check register the "assistant" mentioned that her boyfriend would be over to purchase something.

I guess you can't trust the handicapped, even when they give you the "you gonna deny a brother in a chair some beer?" eyes. I don't normally pick on the handicapped, but this hadicapped guy is living the dream. Booze on food stamps, and underage girlfriend. I feel sorry for this guy? My life will never be that good.

10 comments:

Freida Bee said...

Because you put A Wrinkle in Time in your profile books category, because you love El Caminos and because you linked me, I am doing it too.

You can thank me by insulting me lovingly as I can guess you're likely pretty good at doing. (I've read one of your movie reviews.)

Since I see you're not going to help me, it's apparent I'm going to have to help myself.

Another pithy comment about your post would be appropriate here, but I'm off to go buy booze with my food stamps for my underage boyfriend.

Dr. Monkey Von Monkerstein said...

Newflash! Tha handicapped hate you too you non wheelchair using bastard you.

Romius T. said...

Freida Bee,

You rock! As the only reader who has ever commented on my movie reviews I am now in lust in with you. Since you are pretty new to the blog I need to tell you that my lovin' skillz are not very dope. Unless you are ok with 3 inches of thunder.

Dr.
Wait, the hadicapped hate me? I can stop feeling guilty about hating them, since they hate me too and they probably started out hating me first. My ucle was in the chair and used to bang me and my brother's heads together.

Romius T. said...

F B

A wrinkle in time ruled! Maybe that's where I get my ability to identify with my FANGIRLS. The book was the first scifi book with a female character. I wish we could take a ride in an el camino to the casino with your underaged boyfriend, I bet he knows a few girls his age for me, right?

Freida Bee said...

Romius, You sure have talked yourself up in a big way. I'm not sure what to believe here, but it's about time someone lusted after me, so I'll take it. So, if you have an El Camino, me and Carl Wayne'll be waitin' out in the parking lot. His other girlfrind is underage, so there's that.

Romius T. said...

I don't need a fricking license Im driving drunk and gettin laid@

Freida Bee said...

Aw shit, yer hot.

Romius T. said...

You know it baby! ALso Just to let ya know all comments that get posted to my blog, no matter how long they have been archived get emailed to me right away. That's because I feed off the boost in self esteem that even mean commentors give me!

fairlane said...

I give you and Freida my blessing.

She's a wonderful woman, and she owns a pair of Moccasin Boots.

What more can a dude want?

I never trust the Handicapped. They're like those goats at the petting zoo. When you're facing them, every thing's cool, but as soon as you turn your back to get them another peanut, WHAM!!! right in the back of the legs.

Fuckers.

Romius T. said...

you were right to never trust the handicapped my friend!