i really shouldnt be writing... not now atleast. since its my weekend on that means i *GET* to do the close than open's which i detest... ah so..

anyways... im sitting here because of these ass clowns that showed up tonight. they walk in at 9:45pm [15 mins before we close] and go to the wrong department for help [its important later], then get dumped on me. they say, they bought something; had it delivered, and its missing stuff. i ask what it was. "a cabinet." ok. do you have a receipt or paper work for it? "no, i guess not." i let it sit a second, and reminded them how difficult this is for me to give away parts for things that people cant prove they even have. they scowl. get pissy with me. so, i take them back to the delivery area; have delivery pull their paper work from the delivery [why? because if it WAS delivered, it had to be paid for, and had to have items in a manifest that were delivered]. turns out it was a discontinued, display, medicine cabinet, sold on a discount price. i reminded them of this. they get pissy again, i say we can take some parts out of the most similar thing we have [they make faces at me, and start bitching about me to two other employees on the way back]. im already mad. obviously; they knew what department to have gone to; and didnt go there. obviously they knew what it was; and wouldnt tell me. obviously they knew why they got a discounted price; to cover any damage or missing parts. and obviously, they are fucking jackasses not to come with anything.... no parts... no boxes... no receipts. the kicker? this shit was delivered almost two weeks ago. but they come stomping in about it now. anyway. we go over there, i tell them this cabinet is the closest thing i have anymore, and take the parts out of it... the guy starts counting. i stop. hes counting how many parts hes supposed to have. i remind him that i know this, and im pulling all the parts out for him. ofcourse, the last part wont come out, then he blurts out "I THOUGHT YOU COULD COUNT, I JUST TOLD YOU I NEED 6, WHY ARE YOU ONLY GIVING ME 5... " i tell them i need tools to get the rest out. they tell me, that i dont need to be such a jerk about it. me. funny. so i get the stuff, and before i walk over, i can hear both of them loudly bitching and laughing at me about how they can say anything they want about me, and i couldnt do much about it. fantastic. i walk in, pull out he last part, hand it over, and ask if there is anything else i can do. they stare at me, then start to walk away. never giving me a fake thank you for it. so i start tearing down the display i just scuttled for parts... mind you, my cost on it was something around 180 dollars, for 3 dollars in parts. i get that "im being watched feeling" they are staring at me. "What are you going to do to that?" they ask. so i tell them. seriously; i lost all my money on the product to get them those parts, and now i cant sell it and have to damage it out of my inventory. they continue to glare at me; with that condescending eye. then they leave. turns out they bitched and moaned about what i did to anyone around that would listen, including the store manager. i love people. i love this job. i eat 180 dollars of good product, to fix a discounted cabinet you bought weeks ago, and just now want 3 dollars in parts for free, with no paper work, when really we should be closed.... and im the bad guy. only here. only with these customers. much like the poop-stained toilet seat shoppers, the "its just a standard pipe" assfucks, and the ever present: "you should pay me for my gas money to come down there to get it" -guy, these morons are all the worst people ive ever dealt with in my life.

these "guests" all expect us to wipe their ass, with our sleeves, and be thrilled to do it. they never come prepared to do anything; only buy the cheapest shit, are rude, and expect some discount on top of everything. its rediculous. maybe its the area. maybe its the products. and maybe its the business. but it really grates on my nerves some times. ofcourse, the worst offenders fall in 3 categories....

((the trash.)) they comprise the biggest group. they have a sub genus of: the CON-tractor, the Trailer, the Nastard, The Know It All. in general, they rely upon fart humor, four letter words, body odor, and some sort of direct of God to continue to exist. if it werent for those things; the cold weather, 3rd grade education, and state criminal tax statutes; should have done them in by now. alas. they survive, and thrive at times. the CON-tractor sub group is recognized by partially missing finger tips [atleast from one knuckle down], black store-brand racing hat [in the summer] or brown carhartt imitation store-brand jackets [in the winter]. they attempt to do jobs for other Trash, that really no one should do. this lends them credibility in the Trash subculture for their experience. they often have to rely on the lowest level of mechanical interface to accomplish these jobs however... using compression threads instead of soldering joints, using JB weld to seam a trailer together for "winterizing" purposes, using vinyl tube in place of rigid drainage pipe, and by a gross use of the phrase "nigger rigging." which astounds me. because several of my real area business contacts are black, and do top notch work, and are quite reputable, and often these CON-tractors, are white and trashy to begin with. regardless. the CON-tractor also believes hes entitled to special treatment: discounts, hitting on female employees, dumping of beer cans on our property, and special parking spaces [parking the trailer towing truck across the parking lots at the front of the store]. the CON-tractor seems to find it inappropriate to take additional supplies to save time; instead opting for multiple trips for logical items [ie- they will buy the light fixture and wire, but not wire caps or tape, not a switch, rarely a bulb][ie- they buy the bathtub, but not the trap, the drain, they buy the faucet but not the fittings to connect it]. to them, each visit is a gift to us; and is to be treated as such. the Trailer sub genus lives in a trailer. or something one notch above it, such that if it had wheels and no basement, would be confused with a trailer. these people are the prime examples of why trailer parks are so bad. to them, everything must be the cheapest grade possible; logically because its going in a trailer. they also have very little concept of how the rest of the civilized world refuses to live on houses with wheels. often this group, for lack of means, seeks out the CON-tract for aid. often times, the Trailer will be quite open, if not proud to proclaim their status... but some times they will mask their identity; poorly. several minutes of interaction will give conclusive evidence of their genus. they are best identified during cold weather looking for heat tape, near the sounds of children being beaten, or by a reliance upon making a cheaper [and ultimately faulty] alternative to a mainstream solution. [ie- using vinyl tubing and rubber cement to plumb a lavatory fixture, rather than purchasing the 5 dollar supply line] [ie- wanting to connect any number of inappropriate items by use of garden hose]. most of the struggle for their existence is rooted in attempts to keep their shelter from collapsing from abuse, neglect, and stupidity of previous repairs. they often will approach with extreme vulgarity and will never be detered from purchasing the lowest price point in a run. Trailer will complain about prices, complain about how it goes to a trailer, and complain about how you shouldnt try to scam them. the Nastard is a similar subgenus; often confused with the Trailer. the Nastard can infact live in a trailer, or be employed as a CON-tractor, making them very difficult to appropriately differentiate. Nastard is the inept, single-toothed, shopper, clad in nascar numerals, often coming from rural or underdeveloped neighborhoods. to them, trucks with dual rear wheels, cars that make left hand turns, and a requisite number of numeral decals; show achievement. as mentioned, they can progress into CON-tractors, or degress into Trailer genus; but are a quasi separate class, when left to their own device. the Nastard is generally brain dead when it comes to common sense; but does have adequate low level mechanical ability in most cases. Nastard also seems quite at ease with installation or assembly, something the Trailer struggles with. Nastard is also quite know for their habitual dormant periods [sundays, mid day during "the races"], but is generally active at all other periods of time. the Nastard despises high-quality, high-fashion products, right turns, beers with names of more than 5 letters in length, and some rival nascar driver. lastly, the Know It All is placed into this genus. they often can take any shape, have no regular or identifiable markings or habits; aside from temperment. the Know It All will always be known by the incessant argumentative nature. discussions could be frank, and simple, but the Know It All will argue irrelevant points, or points of non contention to attempt to attain superiority. this inferiority/superiority complex drives the Know It All to engage all problems, but to reject all help or solutions; simply because they believe they know how to do it better than anyone else. logic and reasoning are not necessary; they simply know more than you. they often "know" things based on spurious relationships and logic patterns. [ie- they know a water heater has 3/4" fittings because, standard water pipes are sized to fit them] the Know It All can only be addressed as such, once he has been drawn into his element; until that point, the will lie in concealment. [ie- the Know It All will be silent about electrical components if their preceived knowledge base is rooted in concrete finishing; this is not to say they will not be receptive to your instructions or even attempt them, but they will often not openly argue at first]... Know It Alls can also show aggression towards other areas; ie- "Buddy, I'm a Carpenter, I know when a pipe is half inch; and I'm telling you its all just standard water pipe." because carpenter's routinely plumb houses you know.


((the foreign devils.)) at the risk of sounding xenophobic... the foreign devils are a difficult group to deal with; not because of how they act, but because of how their culture is structured, and because, frankly, we dont speak the same damn language. lets assume you've heard every racist joke in the world already; well... it wont surprise you that there are in fact, lots of cultural divides that make life difficult in a society like ours. if you've heard, thought, or otherwise encountered any modestly racist thought/joke/anecdote, then open you're freaking head for once. the spanish speaking crowd is the largest. culturally; they dont talk. they stay isolated. i dont know why that is. but its very true. well. somewhat true. they talk to other mexicans. just not any of us. so. they will romp around the store, never speak to you, and hoarde an aisle for hours waving off anyone that comes near. why? because they appearantly dont grasp the notion, that of all 51 kinds of faucet handles we have, are in fact different, and it probably is the reason why, there are 51 kinds. so ill stop and try to talk to them about it. i never get a reply to anything i say. or, if they have something, and i tell them we dont have anything like that; they will stay in the aisle for another 30 minutes looking. appearantly, i am a liar. to them, im the foreign devil appearantly. nothing is farther from the truth. because, honestly, if i give you what you want; youll leave. so i aim to give you what you want. please. for the love of god, let me give you what you want. but just leave then. because, i really, really, want you to leave. because there are probably 38 people who also want help. ofcourse, we can differentiate some more. there are also the bargin'ers... typically people of middle eastern, south pacific, or somewhere inbetween those places... everything we sell; is too expensive. everything; EVERYTHING becomes a game of "lets make a deal" its part of their culture. i get that. but in america; its part of our culture NOT to do that. right. unless is used cars, homes, or illict drugs; we dont barter. hell. even in those three exceptions; you cant always barter. so dont do it here. pay the price on the sign, or dont. because Nastard is listening to you. if he even thinks im giving you a deal; hes going to use his beer breath and swagger over to me to expect one. and that aint happening. its got less of a chance than his hero making a right hand turn. so. dont do it. we also get the eastern european crowds; which are notoriously cheap, speak very, very little english, and only want to cobble things together. they usually have no idea what the hell they are doing. hell.. sometimes indoor plumbing fascinates the shit out of their Parliament memebers... but they often come across as rude, and really dont follow directions. you end up repeating things like you would to someone who is deaf. but thats not the problem.


((the so old-im-waiting-for-death people.)) quite possibly my least favorite type to deal with. ill take the bust-my-balls deal-asker 7 ways from sunday; ill take the family of mexicans using garden hose and duct tape to repair gas lines in the house; ALL before i really want to deal with the elderly. why? whats so bad? first off. they are old. they expect to be treated like they did when horses pulled wagons, and when pyramids still had the for-sale signs on the lawn. that means, everything has to have a "good deal" a "classic" "simple" or other stupid stigma attached to it. old people will buy anything that way. if we drop it on a coupon, they come flying in for it. bats out of fucking hell; 88 below zero with 98 feet of snow, they will be there. for stupid shit. worthless shit. shit they wont even understand or use. they get it. they also are preoccupied with "clerks" who "wait" on them. id prefer to wait on them dying. because, this is old people talk for: hold my hand sonny, light bulbs are complex. or "stand here and watch me not buy anything, waste two hours asking questions that dont matter; while we look for something that was invented before the Cold War." thats what it means. they like antiquated terminology, that doesnt ring with people under 58. stools [toilets], wicks [not on candles], cocks [anything except penis], tile [for plastic things], plastic [for things not made out of plastic], and so on. expect them to buy anything thing made out of metal; if its an alternative... because metal is appearantly better. or rather, it shows its was crafted with knowledge that blacksmiths could have held. avoid plastics, electronics, and bright colors... because those things didnt exist during THE Depression... also; everything must be redundantly simple. often times, youll have to put something together if it requries more than one part- they wont be able to follow it. they also will walk out of a store if it requires them going up stairs or across the store... because its too much physical activity. they are needy. anything and everything requires sapping the youth from my marrow to accomplish. they cant read. labels, directions, pictures, all of which help retarded rhesus monkeys build space stations; are ineffectual with the elderly. they will stand there, demand to open a package to see it [especially if the package is clear plastic or a wrapper you can see through], then stare at you. old people like to stare. that also creeps me the fuck out. they stand there, agape, looking at you. they ask about a cabinet hinge, you point, articulate the hinge and tell them to see why its different... mouth open, they stare at your face, and never look at it. better yet; the people so old, they mouth the words you are saying... think of it like reading lips, but in a reflection. its fucking annoying. like the squeal of hearing aids that makes me go deaf, that they cant seem to figure out. they whacked out the damn things so bad, one ear is creating feedback for the other ear; but they cant hear a thing! also i could jump on here about how they shop at 10 am. everyday. its like the old folks home kicks them out, and dumps them on our curb. they come in a rampage, at 4/300's MPH, all leaning on carts, in packs. like stray dogs hungry for the kill, they romp around, running carts into employees and displays, bashing into things for two hours. they pick up non-sequitor crap, complain about how it was all cheaper before the war [the Civil War], and insist on bother employees for stupid things. like life stories. like... "Im buying a new toilet seat because this one is old [and has shit on it]." or "I need a toilet with a higher seat, because it splatters back at me when I'm sitting on it." there are a few phrases I never needed to hear, BUT have heard. they pray upon the younger, more fortunate, to do everything for them; but are trying to convince us of their independence. its laughable; not laudable. they also like to argue with you while you help. obviously Jasper and Gertrude are tired of arguing with them back at the concentration camp.... errrrr nursing home, so they come here to get that last bit of mental exercise. spare me. all reasons why i like the elderly crew the least. but youll know them because: they are on oxygen, they require a cart for some reason to buy anything, they wear polyester everything, they refer to each other as "Dad" and "Maw", they move in reverse, and because the parking lot is suddenly flooded with Buick and Oldsmobile badges.