Ahhhh, Christmas. The time of year where everyone simultaneously sticks their heads up their arseholes and walks around being complete and utter idiots for a month. And for the remaining people who have to SERVE these people at checkouts and cash registers across the country? Why, we’re the one having nervous breakdowns in the corner.
I hate customers. Despise them. After two years in one hospitality job, three years as a check out chick, and now another few months into my second hospitality/customer service job (that’s right, folks. I decided to COMBINE the two. Smart move) I can honestly say that the vast majority of customers are self-absorbed, ignorant bastards who will fuck you over to get what they want. Am I bitter? Perhaps. But I’m also speaking from experience. Allow me to demonstrate.
To the man who decided that the best way to get a refund for his broken lighter would be to throw it at me: You’re a violent little prick, and you deserve to be locked up. Honestly.
I understand that your lighter was broken, but IT COST YOU $1.50. Here’s a suggestion: suck it up, Princess, and BUY A NEW ONE. Don’t launch the broken one at me from three metres away whilst screaming in Mandarin like a lunatic. Because I will laugh at you for approximately the next two years, and then have you escorted out by security.
To my stalker: No, you will never be able to see “what’s underneath my blouse”. Nor will I ever allow you to sneak a peek at “my fine breasts”. You are a sad, perverted, psychotic man and I’m waiting for a sketch of you to appear on those Crimestoppers ads.
To the woman who once called me a “bitch” because I wouldn’t give her the packet of cigarettes with the pretty picture of the Quit call line number on it, as opposed to the one with the ugly, blackened toes on it: you will still get cancer from these cigarettes. It doesn’t matter what’s on the packet, you’re still going to get lung cancer and die. And by calling me a bitch, you’ve guaranteed yourself a life time of shitty customer service from the Supermarket Karma Gods, you ungrateful whore.
Finally: to every other customer who feels the need to complain about how busy it is/how long you’ve waited in line/ how shit the parking is: IT’S CHRISTMAS. If you don’t like it, DO YOUR SHOPPING IN JULY. And try having an ounce of pity for those of us who have listen to your shit all day, every day. We’re not qualified psychologists, so stop whining about shit to someone who’s only paid to swipe your presents for your kids and your in laws and that stupid KK present from work, and start whining to a qualified professional. Christ.
And on that note, I’m off to work. Sorry to all the customers I have to work with today.