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.


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.