Tilex and total fools

Let me ask you this. If you come into a store, decide to grab a cleaning product you happen to be allergic to off the shelf, the drop the product so that it splatters onto you, your allegedly $75 linen pants, your allegedly $60 thongs ($4 flip-flops), allegedly "burns" the skin on your hands and makes your eyes water, whose fault is that?

Is it your fault for being a complete klutz and not paying attention to what the frell you're doing? OH BUT NO! "I need a member of management for a CODE WHITE (which is a customer accident) up at the Service Desk immediately!)

This woman repeats the tirade she had already launched at me. She wants her alleged linen pants dry-cleaned. She wants her shoes replaced. Um, OK bitch. Those flip-flops you've got on ARE NOT $60 FREAKING DOLLARS. I know fashion, and that wasn't a good knockoff. Nobody I know puts cutesy little brown butterflies on sandals. What did she think they were? Liz Claiborne Couture or something? The heifer probably thinks Dillards is as upmarket as they get!

So anyway, she's screeching. Fortunately, I get a halfway intelligent assistant manager who just makes the fool woman happy and packs the bitch off with an authorization voucher or something.

But we haven't answered the fundamental question. If you're allergic to Tilex, why are you picking it up in the first frelling place? AAARGH!!!!!!!

That was the kind of day it was. Not to mention that one of Visa's merchant banks was having some sort of problem with a credit card authentication line, so we were doing manual overrides on credit cards all morning. That's always dicey, because you never know if it is the bank, the card or if they're trying to rob you blind.

And I had to walk back to the back of the store SIX FREAKING TIMES in three hours. Twice to Layaway, once to TLE, once to Sporting Goods, once to Photo and twice more to Electronics.

Each of these trips is fraught with danger, not just because I'm sometimes carrying money for change -- because there is always the potential to get stopped by some idiot customer who wants you to lead them by the hand to some obscure something that they think we "might" have. This leads to other customers asking for help, because the sales associates in these departments are NEVER around, because the merchandise supervisors don't work on weekends. No boss on the weekends, no real work getting done - get the picture?

I did finangle Sunday AND Monday off though, so my next update won't be until Tuesday night or Wednesday morning. I'm still depressed, but I haven't located any heroin yet to make me feel any better. No cocaine either. Maybe I'll go home and cook something. I'm hungry now.