Hi. My name is Parvati. I'm your friendly Wal-Mart Customer Service associate. My Customer Service Manager just paged that customers with less than ten items can check out at the Service Desk because it is Sunday and our checkout lines are longer than a fat girl's lower intestine.
"We've got about fifteen things. They're they're all big items. Can you check us out?" Um, OK. There's not a line right now. And you got to help me bag.
Yeah. Big items like throw pillows on top of a cart FULL of little items. And tons of food. So much stuff the wife had to GO GET ANOTHER CART to start transferring the bagged stuff to it.
And while I'm sitting there gamely scanning all this with my gun - and they're trying to stuff all this in bags and going "Thank you for doing this," I'm thinking "You pieces of crap. You just lied to me and now I look like a fool in front of the huge line of customers who are all waiting for returns while I sit here and scan your crap." The final count? 47 ITEMS!
And while I'm trying to help the wife bag the last few things, the husband slides his credit card through the debit reader thing.
Now, after you slide the card, there is a message that pops up that says "Please tell cashier to hit 'CREDIT' key."
So this entitlement-junkie, who I'm currently helping bag his damn groceries, goes "Can you go ahead and hit CREDIT, we need to get home?"
I swear ... it took everything I had not to just haul off and slug him.
Don't get me started on the asparagus woman. No ma'am. I don't have a scale. No ma'am. I don't care that the asparagus costs "about a dollar-fifty a pound." I don't know how much you got. Fine. Leave it then. I really don't care. It tastes like grass and looks like a weed.