In my time of service to the House of Wal, I have been called on to do all sorts of demeaning things that I would otherwise turn my saucy and aristocratic Roman nose up at.
I have cleaned up baby puke, big people puke, baby crap, big people crap, picked up a dirty pair of jeans with human feces all over them, swept up dog food, gathered grocery carts in 98 degree heat, repeatedly handled raw meat and vegetables for hours at a time and listened to some of the most insane and horrible human beings Kali ever put on this planet. Anyway. That's not the point.
What I was called upon to do Sunday put all other things to shame. I have taken back some sketchy returns in my day. The empty cans of Diet Coke spring to mind!
This one tops that. By far and away. Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman doing bad Irish accents "Far and Way."
OK. This older man comes up. He's a health-conscious hippie with his little black biker shorts and form-fitting white top. He's even got a fanny pack with a water bottle attachment. Was probably a Deadhead and a Phish Head and a fan of the Beatles for good measure. FROM THE FANNY PACK, he pulls what turns out to be two pairs of dress socks. One argyle, one gray.
Said dress socks have been around the block more times than the mailman, the school bus, the garbage truck and your cousin Vanessa put together. There are even pills on them. Enough pills to fill a prescription.
And the odor. Lord. The odor. Limburger cheese. Unwashed feet. Halitosis. Baby poo. Britney at the VMAs. Compassionate conservatism. Rank I say. I. HAVE. NO. MORE. WORDS.
"I wanna return these. They just didn't work out for me." AND HE PULLS OUT A RECEIPT.
Do not sigh. Do not roll eyes. Do not sigh. DO NOT ROLL EYES. DO NOT SIGH. It's like a mantra. I'm trying to find my happy place. Lord, it was soooo hard too.
Look at the socks. Look at him. Look at the socks. Look at him. Look at the receipt. Look at him. Look at the socks. Look at the receipt again. Do internal math. "Is this worth a knock-down drag-out fight for $2.97 apiece for? No. OK. Give the stupid man a refund before I keel over from the fumes."
And the worst part was I had to touch the filthy things to put a defective tag on both pairs. I thought about making a scene and getting out the biohazard kit, some glove and maybe a pair of tongs, but decided it wasn't worth it.
BUTTONS. MASH. DEFECTIVE. DEFECTIVE. $6.30. Yes, a grand total of $6.30 for two ancient pairs of socks. You too can get rich by scamming the Wal-Mart two pairs of socks at a time. SIGN HERE. HAVE A NICE DAY PLEASE LEAVE NOW.
*wipes counter down with disenfectant* *hunts for antibacterial hand stuff*