Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Shut the door Tarhole

Now, I’ve posted more than once about the poor public restroom habits of men in JoCo, but things went way to far on Friday night.

This young man comes in wearing a North Carolina t-shirt…letting me know that he was a misguided young man. He didn’t smell of liquor. He didn’t have the “I've smoked way too much pot” eyes. He  seemed to be in good shape.

Now, it’s about 11:50 at this point. I’ve already cleaned the bathrooms for the night and have the door to the men’s room propped open so that it’s easier to mop when I close.

So, junior wanders around and i see him head for the bathroom. What happened next folks, well it’s just too much.

He doesn’t bother to shut the door, so I assume that he’s just going to wash his hands. But I’m wrong.

I hear the sound of young Tarhole peeing.

With the door open.

In public.

I’m just standing there, with a bewildered look on my face as Tarhole pees for what seems like an eternity. WITH THE DOOR OPEN.

Who does this? Really? Who decides, i have to pee so incredibly bad that I'm not going to waste time shutting the door?

Do I hear a flush? Hell no. So, the exchange goes something like this.

ME: Excuse me Tarhole.

HIM: Yes?

ME: I feel like since you felt comfortable enough to piss in front of me with the door open, I’m comfortable enough to tell you to march your ass back in there and flush.

HIM: Well, you had the door open so I thought you didn’t want it closed. Do i really have to flush? I didn’t use toilet paper or anything.

ME: Yes, you have to flush regardless of your toilet paper usage. Also, it’s ALWAYS okay to shut the door of a public restroom. Were you raised in a barn?

So Tarhole goes back and flushes the toilet and comes to the counter to buy his drink. Now, let me mention that i didn’t hear him wash his hands either when he went on the great pee adventure. So when he goes to hand me his money, i ask him to lay it on the counter. Because I'm not going to touch the money that he was handled by his pee hands.

He on the other hand, doesn’t see that he’s done anything wrong. Stupid Tarhole. Peeing in public SOOO trumps leaving the seat up.

Welcome to my world folks.

Monday, May 3, 2010

Backwoods…you ignorant slut

I thought it was time that i provided you all with an update on my girl Backwoods. Much has happened in her life in the past few months.

I told you all that she broke up with her Zona Rosa love, despite their unmatched romantic experience in the back of the Bronco. She was completely crushed for two, maybe three days then old Backwoods was back on the prowl.

Her next love she met in the oil aisle at Wal-Mart. They were hot and heavy, and she was sure it was the truest of true love. Then, she found out that WD-40 was bisexual, and to quote Backwoods, “I’m not down with that kind of nasty.”

Really? You can not bathe for weeks and bang a guy in a parking garage, but you draw the line at bisexual. Glad to know that you have boundaries.

So, after WD-40, Backwoods was single for a week or two and then she fell in love with Bible-Beater. She started going to church three times a week. She washed her hair. She bought a cross necklace. But alas, Bible-Beater was keeping himself pure for the love of his life and he just decided that Backwoods wasn’t that woman. I know…shock of shocks…her love of god wasn’t stronger than her love of Old Crow and she lost him.

There were a couple of other flings after that and then, about a month ago, she was very unceremoniously booted from her daddy’s house for being a dirty, dirty ho. Evidently she wasn’t the type of “role model” that her daddy wanted around her little brother and sister.

So, poor homeless Backwoods moves in on Wednesday with her new boyfriend (Hayseed), that she went out with for the first time on Sunday, and his momma. Because, you just can’t deny love this strong.

For a month now, she’s been living the dream in a single-wide in Bonner. Her life is “perfect” and “just what she always dreamed of.”

Okay. You “dreamed” of shacking up with your boyfriend and his mom in a trailer? Maybe you should dream a little bigger…like maybe an apartment.

The plus side of this, she has started bathing and washing her hair. Which we all appreciate.

Then, this Saturday, the hammer dropped. Backwoods is gonna be a momma ya’ll. Her and Hayseed are so happy for this little joy that has been dropped into their life.

Now, they have been “dating” for a month. She’s 9 days late. I’m not exactly sure that Hayseed should be quite so “overjoyed at his impending fatherhood.”

I’m going to subtly start dropping adoption hints to our girl Backwoods. I mean, if she can’t manage to bathe more than once a month, I can see the dirty diaper, kool-aid stained, crusty nosed mess this baby is going to be.

I’ll keep you updated on the momma-to-be. Lord help us all.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Icky…

So, busy week. But I saw such an interesting creature yesterday while making a bank run for the salon, that I couldn’t help but share.

Now, let me preface this by saying that our salon is in a very nice area of town. BMW’s and Audi’s are commonplace, as is an $18 burger and high end Doggie Salons. I, obviously, am WAY out of my league in this area…but I’m there to mix it up.

Anyway, I’m sitting in line at the bank and see a lovely old school Jaguar pull up. The car was an attention getter and was in great shape, so I waited to see who, or rather what got out of the car. What a treat for me!

Let me tell you that the gentleman that got our of the car was probably in his mid- to late-50’s and dressed in head to toe Versace. Jeans, shirt(s) and shoes. You could tell from the obnoxious labels. He got out the tiniest little rat dog and then turned and looked at me.

Ya’ll. Wow. Really.

Imagine this if you will. Picture what it might look like if this man:

Mickey Rourke

Had a 50 year old love child with this woman:

jocelyn_wildenstein

It was truly horrific. Know when to say when buddy.

I also saw a woman, in this same little shopping area, that looked even more out of place than the Crazy Face Lift Man of 2010. We’ll call her Bettysue. She pulled up in front of a store in her Chevy Celebrity circa 1984 and got out in overalls and curlers in her hair. Now, in my hometown – not a problem. In this little area, it was like showing up naked to a state dinner.

I just wanted to go over and say “you’re not from around here are you?”

More posts tomorrow night, just had to share this mental image with you before I went to bed. Sweet dreams  my little reader monkey’s!

Thursday, April 15, 2010

Bad Dad – No BBQ

So, this isn’t store or salon related, but I was driving today, saw this and had to share with all of you.

I was sitting at a stop light and saw something that i think was pretty common across the Jo, and much of the Plains states this week. A man, standing proudly in front of his grill with tongs in one hand and beer in the other. Now, due to my finely tuned nose (i have strep throat people not a broken sniffer!) I could detect the aromatic smoke that can only come from properly seared cow flesh.

Sounds yummy right?

Even more it sounds normal!

So I’m sure you’re wondering – so why in the hell are you telling us this Clerk K. Because what else I saw was so horribly, horribly wrong I could only share it with you.

So, here is what our daddy looked like, except switch out one of those spatulas for a handy bottle of bud light. Got a good image? Good.

Now, you may be asking: “Clerk K, why are you assuming that this fine purveyor of BBQ is a father? I see no hints from the lovely picture?”

Nice pick up, and that is where everything went wrong. In fact, the more i think about it the dad looked more like this:

Yeah. That’s better. It was that guy. With a beer and tongs, in front of the BBQ.

I’m pretty sure when his wife said: “Honey, can you watch the kids and take care of dinner? I’m just wiped.” She didn’t quite have this in mind.

Speaking of babies, congrats to Hallmark Girl and her husband on the coming addition to their family this fall. They are going to be great parents.

Side note, have you noticed that most of my friends sound like errant Super Heroes? Like Hallmark Girl – Able to write thank you notes within four hours, scrapbooks with ease and defender of all well appointed gifts! It’s the whole “secret identity” thing.

I’ve been sick so things have fallen off a bit. I go back to the store tomorrow. Have a great weekend.

Saturday, April 3, 2010

Salon Training 101 or How to Answer Phones

So, several of you have asked for some posts on the salon. Most of the time, it pales in comparison to the c-store, but I had the “privilege” of attending a seminar on “Maximizing your Front Desk Results” last Monday. I think it should be renamed “what a waste of my time.”

For two hours, i sat with other salon coordinators learning the intricacies of answering phones at a salon. In this riveting class, I learned the following things.

  1. The merits of a professional manicure vs.. one that you do at home. I mean really, clients can SO tell if you paint your own nails. How ghetto.
  2. Should you say “good morning/afternoon” or “thank you for calling.” Getting these things right can truly make or break your salon. Now seriously, have you ever called to make an appointment and decided you WERE NOT letting these people cut your hair if they didn’t said Good Morning instead of Thank you for calling? If you have, you should go to another blog because you SOOOO won’t find this blog funny.
  3. How we should look like we were ripped from the pages of the latest magazines to reinforce that the stylist know what they are doing. Quite frankly, if I'm paying $50+ for a hair cut, I'm more concerned about the stylist than what the phone girl is wearing. I’d also like to point out that they never mentioned what magazine that you needed to look like you walked out of. I think that leaves things open for interpretation.

And finally the scripts. Because, god forbid, you answer the phone and not know precisely what to say.

What if they want to know prices?!? (ummm, you tell them)

What if they don’t like their haircut?!? (how about apologize and offer to get the stylist on the line so we can determine how to make this right)

Free thought was NOT encouraged. The answer to everything…use a SCRIPT.

So we did a script writing exercise, with each group given a challenge that we had to address. My group got “monthly special” – and no not THAT monthly special you dumb-dumbs. I was paired up with a salon owner who employed a staff of 15 and another coordinator who was completely overwhelmed.

As we began to discuss, the salon owner reinforced to us that “she had this down…i write these scripts for our Salon.” So after some writing, here is the exchange:

SALON OWNER: I have the script, are you guys ready?

ME: Lay it on me.

SALON OWNER: “Thank you for calling Moron Salon, this is Owner…would you like to hear about our 45 minute massage for $45 special?” Great huh?

ME: And if I was to say “yes, tell me about your special” isn’t your answer just “it’s a 45 minutes massage for $45” Why are you asking me if I want to hear more when you just told me all there is.

SALON OWNER: silence…still silent…slow blink. Okay, well what about “Would you like to hear about our 15% off all product special?”

ME: All products are 15% off?

SALON OWNER: ummmmm…what would you say if you don’t like these?

ME: “Good morning Fantastic Salon, this is Coordinator K, would you like to hear some ways to pamper the mother’s in your life?”

SALON OWNER: Wow…that’s really open-ended…you’re amazing.

This woman runs a salon that probably has $100,000/month in services and can’t figure out how to answer the phones! For all that is holy, save me from stupid people.

My boss’ response to the class – “I thought that class had SUCH good information.”

Why me.

Friday, April 2, 2010

The Progression of Poor

Now, many of you know the side effects of a recession. You cut back on things. Fewer trips out on the town, you start cooking at home, you shop at resale shops, you cancel (heaven forbid!) the HBO. But when you’re really deep into the depths of getting by, those things seem like a treat.

In my case, “cutting back” has gone well beyond these small things. I’ve had to cancel my cable. I only have gas service in the winter. I don’t have trash service. Things that we take for granted have gone by the wayside. A treat anymore is buying the “good milk” at the grocery store or a $1 redbox rental. But with these changes you also are exposed to a new side of things that you didn’t know before.

Here is how those interesting observations come about:

I don’t have a bank account any longer. Some things didn’t shake out and I got overdrawn. i couldn’t cover the overdraft charges, and what do you know…voila! No account. So, instead of taking checks to the bank, I now do most of my banking at Wal-Mart and Check Into Cash.

I could be bitter. I could dwell on the fact that the charges I pay to these places would fill my tank with gas. Or pay for trash pick-up, or give me the treat of an actual manicure. That would just piss me off and what fun is that. So, I look at the humor these things could bring me.

Let’s take today for example. I ran to Check Into Cash to, duh, cash my paycheck. The guy in front of me was borrowing money so he would have cash for his daughters visit this weekend. Then the baby mama drama began. Evidently they were doing the “great baby swap” at the check cashing place and it was going horribly wrong. From what I could pick up, the baby mama boyfriend (versus the baby daddy) didn’t know that they were meeting “in person” for the exchange and he was calling every 30 seconds to see where baby mama was. She (baby mama) was shaking like a dog crapping razor blades afraid that she was going to get “in trouble.” Baby Daddy on the other hand was going to “whoop his ass.”

All the while, the baby is in the car. Alone. During a rain storm. Baby Mama finally answered the phone and I could hear her boyfriend screaming that he was gonna get even for this and she was lucky he didn’t call the police (i know, i was confused too…keep up.)

Please remember – they are in line to get money while this is playing out. Would you give these people money? I made the sad mistake of asking:

If you don’t usually pass off your child face-to-face, how exactly do you do this? Do you just leave her hanging out somewhere…like now?

This got me a REALLY ugly look and a “mind your own damn business bitch.” (When you run that little statement through your mind, think of the guys from Deliverance for an accent)

So…I then go tonight to get a money order for rent (remember, no bank account…no checks) at Wal-Mart. So there I was, the only English speaking person in line, waiting for my turn with Dorthea when a woman walked through the front door that was a vision.

them are some eyebrows

Now, those eyebrows look like commas gone wild. You can’t see it in the picture, but the have a big dot at inside making them look like a freakin’ connect the dots picture head on. The black circle you see under her eyes looked like a reverse “smoky eye” where instead of lining the eye and smudging the liner out, she lined about a half inch under the eye and smudged in. Combine that with the lip liner, the overly bedazzled sweat jacket and her friend with the Irene Cara Flash Dance outfit and you haven’t seen a more happening 70 year old.

Would I have seen this at the bank? Hell no.

You keep your direct deposit and online banking. I’ll hang with this freak-show for now!

Thursday, April 1, 2010

Clerk K’s Split Personality

So, as i indicated in my last post, my one night at week at the c-store has expanded back to four a five a week. You know that cold weather rule that won’t let them turn off your heat/electricity in the winter months? Well, it has expired and with that, my ability to make it on a monthly basis without going all pioneer bitch has caused me to amp up the old c-store hours. Ahhh, the things we do for hot and cold running water…but i digress.

Working these two VERY different jobs has me developing a bit of a split personality. Let me explain.

I’d like to start by saying I have no misconceptions about my appearance. I’m not an attractive woman. I’m 37. I know this. I have a mirror. Now, I don’t scare small children, but I’m never going to be mistaken for the “hot chick”.

But at the c-store? At the c-store I am the bomb.

I bathe (see Backwoods).

I have all my own teeth (take your pick).

My eyebrows are in their original location and are actually made of hair (oh, I'll tell you about the new manager later).

I. Am. A. Catch.

Even in the polyester polos that are oh, so popular in the world of convenience.

At the salon? Well at the salon I’m constantly struggling for just okay. This is a place where people come to feel and become beautiful…and I am the face of that business.

Ugh.

Be fashion forward they say…I have always struggled to reach fashion neutral much less forward. That goal is for younger, smaller, hotter girls. My fashion rules have always been this:

  1. Make sure all your parts are covered. Nobody wants to see your “muffin top” or mistake you for a plumber.
  2. You shouldn’t wear white pants unless you wear a 12 or smaller. Really people, this should be a law.
  3. Only wear the shirts with the stains on the chest in the yard or on the weekend.
  4. If you’re wearing sandals, paint your damn toes and get a pedicure. Nobody wants to see your corn chip pinky toe or crusty heels. Stripper feet are only for strippers. And finally…
  5. If all else fails, wear black.

These don’t apply in the salon. Now, I’m scrambling to make something fashionable out of my wardrobe and struggling because on my salary I can’t afford to go buy pieces to juju it up, makeup and assorted polishes that go with the outfits (see above where I’m now working from 8:30 a.m. to 12:30 a.m. to pay the utilities).

For the first time in my life I have fashion anxiety and i HATE it. Also, the difference in the two makes me feel like I'm hooking for loose change…or I'm some weird crime fighter…

By day, she is a mild mannered salon coordinator answering phones and sweeping floors. But by night, she dons the polo of power and becomes Clerk K – bringer of normalcy and swishers.

I don’t know how Wonder Woman did it. Sheesh.

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

411 on Clerk K’s Absence

Many of you are probably wondering why there have been such a gap in my postings.

Was I kidnapped by a random c-store freak?

Did I purchase a wholesale quantity of Swishers and start a side business supporting the ever growing pot community in the Jo?

Did I finally cave and run away with the Spanker to perform in freakish shows across the country?

The answer to these, and the other odd little ideas that i know you have in your head, is unequivocally NO.

The truth? I got another job. Yes, you heard me right, I was able to secure another JOB. So, I had backed off to one evening shift a week at the store and have been lounging my days away as the coordinator/fix-it-bitch at a local salon.

(I know you were all thinking of our beloved pink haired Frenchie when I said salon!)

While this is an improvement, closer to home, no polyester polo, free hair cuts/colors, etc. It is by no means a “great career move” and quite frankly I’m getting tired of hearing that.

I was fortunate enough to tell some of my regular customers of this change. Some get what I’m doing and am happy I’m out of the store…or was…but more on that later. Some, well some are lucky that they don’t get a quick punch in the butt.

If I head one more “oh, Clerk K, what a nice job for you…someplace that you can really have a long career.” OR “you’re family must be so happy for you Clerk K, getting a career in that field.”

WTF? This is not a career. This is more money without druggies. This is a five minute commute with free cut and color.

I have a degree and am DAMN good at what i do, beyond those pesky political games that I don’t choose to play. I’ve made a conscious choice to not just go to another “career” job but find the right fit for me. My “career” comes with a damn good salary.

What I have now, is a job where in exchange for my 1 figure per hour, i do the following:

  • Answer phones and manage schedules,
  • do and fold my boss’ laundry
  • run his personal errands
  • planning his trips, dinners and nights out
  • dusting and learning the importance of being timely in follow-up

I mean, come on. When i graduated college, I thought that if i was ever washing a man’s underwear it would be because he was taking out the trash and walking the dog, not because he was my gay boss.

Seriously, is it that hard to believe in this economy that someone is doing a job that is below them to get by and not for a career? Really?

So, I’m splitting my time between the salon and the c-store and getting a little bit of a split personality. Promise to have more regular updates.

Happy Spring!

Thursday, March 25, 2010

I’m Backkkk

Clerks log. Stardate March 25.

Many changes are afoot in the Milky Way Sales Galaxy. New owners, mobile whores, no overnight shift and a host of other mind-boggling issues that are too numerous to mention. 

While there is plenty of time to get into the many changes that have been afoot in the land of the c-store, one constant has been the increasingly disturbing trend in young boys haircuts.

Now, let me preface this post by stating that I am from the mullet generation. The great hair don’t made famous by Billy Ray Cyrus and hockey players worldwide. I get it, mullets were a mistake, but never…and i do mean never…was the mullet this confounding.

We’ll just call it the Justin. As in Justin Bieber. For those of you not familiar with with tween idol, I’ve found a picture so you have a point of reference. Justin-Bieber-justin-bieber-8896340-600-485

Now, I’m sure that Justin is a fine, squeaky clean kid. He even ma’am’d Baba Wawa to death on The View this week, but really? His hair makes him look like a 15-year-emo boy had a love child with the Donald…and that isn’t a compliment. And the more popular he becomes, the more this haircut is walking around unattended.

Now, this picture is mild compared to the actual manifestation of what I am coining the “teen comb-over”. These guys are literally starting at their ear and sweeping their hair in a circle to “fix” this do.

Really? Who thinks the “swirly comb” is sexy? With your wrap around hair and your cool new Prius, the only people you are attracting are near-sighted Lesbians…thank god you’re not hot roding in a new Subaru!

Then, on top of this crazed hair madness, you decide that you’re “man” enough to buy a lovely peach Swisher and smoke pot. Remember boys, someday in the not so distant future, you’re going to have to show pictures of your high school years to children of your own. Is this what you want to show them?

For a bit of housekeeping, I have a new fan page on Facebook. Look for me under Clerk K. I’ll be posting notices about new blog posts, random mind wanderings, photos and interacting with you more there. Share the info with your friends and have them become a fan of Clerk K.

I promise to post more frequently and update you on the happenings in my corner of the galaxy!

Monday, January 25, 2010

I have a Wiener!!

Okay, lots going on in my world and I’ll post about that soon, but I had to share this little highlight with you all.

Last Wednesday night I had a guy come in with a winning lottery ticket. He usually comes in and buys his tickets from me and looks like he walked straight out of Central Casting for the role of “best friend’s dad.” He had the plaid shirt, pull-over vest, khaki pants and deck shoes. Kinda balding and about 20lbs overweight. Your average 50 some year old guy.

So, he comes in and hands me a lottery ticket and the exchange goes something like this…

Me: Did you get a winner?

Him: (very excited and a little silly) Yep…I have a wiener!

Me: (looking at him a little oddly) Do you know how much you won?

Him: (completely oblivious) Nope. I know it’s not a big wiener, but it’s mine.

I looked at him and then it dawned on him what it was that he said. He started yammering and this lovely color of red started creeping out of his collar and slowly crawling up his face.

He then apologized to me and tried to explain that he would joke with his kids since they were little saying wiener instead of winner and that he meant nothing by the comment. I just smiled and assured him that it was okay…keeping my laughter in check. I handed over the “wienings” and he quickly left the store.

Now, this was bad enough if it was just he and I in the store, but it wasn’t. There were at least three other people around to hear his proud declaration. One of them was a regular customer who has the same twisted sense of humor that I do. The minute we made eye contact, both of us busted up laughing.

My regular customer then adds:

When he said “I know it’s not a big wiener, but it’s mine.” It was all I could do to not tap him on the shoulder and tell him “ I bet your wife is a proud woman.”

I haven’t seen wiener man since, but his prophetic words still stick with me…I’ve. Got. A. Wiener.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

But it’s a Mercedes…

So we had a little gas issue at the old c-store last week that caused much commotion. Evidently a sensor went out that caused the premium grades of gas to not pump. This was the case for three days while our maintenance people burrowed through the snow and frigid temps to get it fixed. The unfortunate thing is that the sign that was created for the pumps wasn’t as clear as it could be. The sign read:

Unleaded fuel only at this time. Sorry for the inconvenience. Management.

Now, this caused a great deal of confusion. I was asked if this meant they couldn’t use diesel (which we don’t have). I was asked aren’t they all unleaded (yes they are.) But there were a few that really stuck out in my mind.

One lady came in and said she’s using the unleaded and it wasn’t working. I asked her what grade she was using and she said unleaded, 89. I told her that was our mid-grade premium and that it wasn’t working. She needed to use the regular grade, 87. She then told me, very upset, that her car couldn’t run on regular gas and HAD to have unleaded. I reassured her that our “regular” grade was an unleaded grade. She then asked me, where to people go who have cars that need to run on “regular” gas. This caused her to make the worst possible face and walk out…you could tell that there was a great deal of confusion at this discussion.

But there was one girl who took the cake. Now, I want to do a little exercise before I relate this conversation. I need to paint a visual and audio picture for you. She was an attractive girl, probably about 20 or 21, and was the total stereotype of the KU sorority girl. Now, I have some good friends that were actually sorority girls and even one that was at KU (hi Roundball’s mom). But what I’m talking about is a stereotype come to life.

This girl was fully outfitted in the Victoria’s Secret KU wear, overly processed blonde hair pulled into ponytail that you know took a long time to look that casual, brand new uggs and obnoxiously big Chanel earrings. Got the visual? Good. Now the audio.

I want you to think about how you sound when you are very, very tired. You talk kind of slow and you don’t enunciate as well as you can right? Now I want you to think about how someone sounds when they have their jaw wired shut. Got it?

Now combine the two. In fact, practice that little voice right now. Oh, and don’t move your lips. Go ahead. I’ll wait.

Got it? Good.

So little miss sorority shuffles in and the exchange goes like this:

Sorority: I need some gas.

Me: What?

Sorority: I need some gas!

Me: Okay…what car?

Sorority: The white one (she then throws $10 on the counter and shuffles out the door).

I put the gas on the pump and a few minutes pass as I pull up the pump and notice that she’s trying to pump the premium gas. I then see her coming back to the store…

Sorority: mumble, mumble, mumble.

Me: Hun, you’re going to have to speak up, I can’t hear you.

Sorority: mumble, it’s not working…

Me: That’s because you were using a premium grade and only our regular unleaded is working, did you see the sign on the pump?

Sorority: mumble, mumble…

Me: What?

Sorority: (slightly louder) I thought that meant you couldn’t use the diesel.

Me: We don’t carry diesel.

Sorority: I know, I thought that made the sign weird.

Me: (laughing) I can reset the pump for you so that you can pump the 87 grade.

Sorority: mumble, can’t…

Me: I’m sorry, but I can’t understand a word you’re saying. What?

Sorority: I can’t

Me: You can’t what?

Sorority: (very irritated at this point) I can’t pump that gas.

Me: Why?

Sorority: Because I mumble, mumble, mumble

Me: One more time…

Sorority: Because I drive a Mercedes! (pointing very animatedly the car)

Me: And…

Sorority: It will ruin the car.

Me: Well, there isn’t much I can do for you then but give you your money back.

Sorority: (stomping her foot and clenching her fist) But I need gas NOW (in fact she reminded me of the purple girl on Charlie and the Chocolate Factory…)

Me: Well, I can’t help you. Would you like your money back…

Sorority: (making a disgusted sound) No, it’s only $10.

She then stomped out of the store as she pulled out her bejeweled red and blue Iphone. I couldn’t hold in the laughter. I don’t know if she got to a location to get gas, but she brought a LOT of laughter into my night.

Wow.

Monday, January 4, 2010

New Years Thoughts

Happy New Year all my little blog readers. Here’s to your enjoyment of my final blog posts as I’m determined to be out of the c-store and on to bigger things in VERY short order. Never fear though, there is plenty of c-store goodness to share before that day comes and I'll always find a way to share my random observations on people with you.

A VERY happy New Year: On the whole, New Year’s eve was amazingly quite and event free. I will say, that there was more safe sex had in JoCo over the last week than at any point in my time at the c-store. We stock five different types of condoms and keep five packs of each on hand. As of last night, we have one package of XXL condoms left on the shelf…they were fully stocked on Christmas Eve.

My most memorable condom buyer was a guy that came in on the Sunday after Christmas. He was probably in his early to mid-50’s and a reasonably attractive guy. He came in about 7:30 and bought three packs of condoms and something to drink. I guess the look on my face made him want to explain. So here is what I got:

I’m heading out of town in the morning for a few weeks and my girlfriend is coming over tonight.

Now, I’m sure that was the truth, but three packs? I just wonder how many little blue pills were needed to use those 9 condoms.

An Odiferous New Year: I understand that people can smell. We are right across the parking lot from a gym and we have a lot of folks run in for a water or something when they are done with their workout. Some have the “i just sweated a lot” smell and I can understand that. But there are some situations that need to be stopped. Last night, the theme was smelling like they had pooped themselves. I had two men who literally made me gag.

One was a guy that was in our bathroom for nearly 20 minutes and then came out smelling like he wiped with his hand. It was so bad that I used air freshener where he could see me AND doubled-up on the hand sanitizer. Another was a city worker that was driving a snow plow. He smelled like he had worn the clothes he was in for DAYS and just worn a depends so that he wouldn’t have to stop plowing.

Top this with a conversation that I had to have with Backwoods who is truly the smelly kid at work. A very, very smelly start to the new year in c-store land.

The Day After: So, most of us are familiar with the walk of shame. However, what I saw on New Year’s day was a completely different take on that concept. What I saw that afternoon was what I’m going to dub the “walk of pain.” I saw a ton of people in the remnants of the hair and makeup finery of the New Year’s Eve celebration, with the most hideous outfits. These people looked as if they were in so much physical pain, that shoes with hard soles would crumble their world. The kind of hangovers that make you look in the mirror and go “fuzzy house slippers, plaid pajama pants, a sequined shirt and a giant ink stamp from the bar that transferred to my forehead…I look okay to go out in public.” I’ve been there – I distinctly remember walking to Jack Griffiths in leggings, a Carhart and fur knee boots/slippers because real shoes and the sound of starting the car was TOO much -- and I know a lot of you have been there as well…someone reading this may have even made that walk with me. It’s just fun to be the sober observer of this hung-over pain.

New updates on Backwoods soon.

Have a great, prosperous and happy New Year.