Monday, August 20, 2007

So how dis work? The Story of Pink Velour and Pimpalicious

Now, ya'll know I work up in the ghetto Wal-Mart right? Right. Just so we're clear. I see more fake nails, fake purses and fake hair than most drag queens. Woolite girls, it will do wonders for your cheap wigs.

So one ghetto princess rolled through my line Sunday. Cause you know, even skanky hookers take the Sabbath off to shop at the Wal-Mart.

I don't know what they're teaching in the fashion class at Hooker High. I do know that pink Wal-Mart terrycloth knockoffs in the style of Juicy Couture Velour - without the Juicy, and without the Couture, but with an extra helping of the velour - is probably NOT on the approved curriculum. Neither are those cheap Sally Hansen nails you have in your cart. PS: Your weave looks cheap. Is it donkey or horse?

AN-Y-WAY. She was doing an exchange - two shirts for one shirt and two packs of boxers. Obviously, since you're not getting the same things it is not going to come out the same. I know you failed math but I would have thought you at least had the money part down.

She ends up owing me $3.12. And the fun really starts.

"It's more? Why?" And I go through the prices. "Oh. Really?" No. Really.

"Go get my purse," she barks at one of the junior hookers with her - who is waaay to young to be tarted up in cutoff demin shorts, a white tube top and a black velvet jacket that is buttoned almost all the way up to make it look like she doesn't have any pants on.

The junior hooker doesn't come back, so Pink Velour whips out a cell phone and starts calling. "I need three dollars." No. Actually you need $3.12, but I figure she can get that far by herself. "I'se standing up at Customer Service. Just bring to me."

Whoever she is yelling at doesn't respond, so she calls someone else "C'mon. Just bring me some money so I can go. I need to pay for this."

About this time, junior hooker comes back - with a dude I can only assume is their pimp. He is probably not the father. He might be the boyfriend - but he's well past 40 and Pink Velor is about 17. And he looks pissed off.

Great. I've got a 240-pound man wearing a shirt with the sleeves cut off - so the whole world can see his BIG muscles - and with a mouth full of gold teeth, tattoos and missing a chunk of an ear standing up in Customer Service pissed off at his woman. Is that fear I smell or just AXE body spray?

He doesn't talk to me at first, he talks to Pink Velour. "What's going on?" She stammers out that she was exchanging some shirts and now she owes money.

Now I get the full blast of Pimpalicious. "So how dis work?" Big on the English are you?

I print out a SLIP which shows what she returned and what she's buying. I'm like "What she's returning doesn't equal what she's getting. She got a more expensive shirt and the boxers are $5 each where she traded in an $8 shirt."

Pimpalicious understands money. He looks at Pink Velour and grins. "Pay it then."

She pulls four singles out of her pocket where she's had it the whole time. I can tell she doesn't want to use that money though.

He grabs the bag from her as she leaves. I can hear them arguing past Register 12 - at which point the noise is too loud. "I done told you I just wanted some new stuff. Naw girl. Dis how its gonna roll when we got home. Well I don't know why it got to be a thang." And so on...

See, I'm thinking that the money she had in her pocket was his money. And she didn't have the OK to spend his money, which was why she had to send people running around to try to find $3.12. Because there is hell to pay when she spends the pimp's cash. Anyway. That's my night.

9 comments:

Anonymous said...

When will the concept of "EVEN exchange" ever dig itself into people's skulls? Unless you're switching sizes, the crap you're getting is probably more expensive. And yet they just stare at you like "Why aren't these 40 dollar shoes the same as these 29.99 shoes?" 40 = 30 in their heads.

Simple. Math.

kdl said...

dishere remind me of the time i work at the infomation desk at the barnes & noble. brothuh roll in wantin the toomerator book. now, i be black but i ain't ghetto, but i took a chance an axed him to spell 'toomerator.' he say: t.o.m.b.r.a.i.d.e.r.

sometimes it just bees like dat!

BrSpiritus said...

My old Wal-Mart was a semi-ghetto store. See the bus lines didn't come out that far so they had trouble getting to us in the city. So one night it's just me as Support Manager holding down the store while the night asst was off screwing his tart. We get the ho brigade walking in wanting to do a return on hairspray, like 12 cans of it! These cans were obviously used and I just flat out refused a return, no receipt anyway. This one black crack ho comes up to my ear and says "Baby, you return deese harspray an I suck you off behind the store." I just had to crack up laughing, right in her face. She eventually settled on store credit but she wasn't happy about it.

iaimtooffend said...

PS: Your weave looks cheap. Is it donkey or horse?

OH MY FUCKING GOD! lmao!
Where's the Racist Brigade? You know they'll be up in here any moment chastising the author & the respondents.

Riohnna said...

LOL! I can ALMOST swear that her and sis know each other,,,,,

Anonymous said...

Actually AXE body sprays smells like fear. The fear of impotence.

Missy said...

Ah ha ha, fear of impotance. Ha!

William said...

Awesome.

j-yo said...

This is a classic thread.