On Monday, Phoenix and I spent the day together. We also had Noble Tuesday (Now on Mondays, but "Noble Monday" sounds weird...), but until then, we decided to go see a movie (It's Complicated, to be exact. Not a bad flick. I love Steve Martin.) and then to take care of a few errands. Anyway, I won't waste my breath on talking about the complete and utter jackass who almost hit us as we left our apartment because he decided to change lanes into the fast lane (the lane I was in) to go around a stopped bus. Seriously, jackass, you were the moron who got in the lane behind the bus coming up to a bus stop!! My personal favorite part of this entire experience is that I honked to warn the dude I was there and still he came over! But I won't waste your time with that story...I should start a website called JackassDrivers.com and then people can submit license plate pics and people's pictures so we know who to look out for. I'm just saying...*shifty eyes* Anyway, so one of the places we went to after the movie was Verizon. I hate the Verizon store. No, like really hate. Like in the same way I hate jackass drivers who almost crash into me simply because I was in the same square mile as them. Or as much as I hate my job at Walmart Neighborhood Market (which is a lot). Anyway, I said, "They look busy." Phoenix takes my phone ("Stop thief!") and hops out of the car to go in. So, I parked and followed. I asked her if any more people could've fit in the store because the place was packed. She said that yes, a lot more people could fit. I don't know why she has to answer my sarcastic rhetorical questions. *rolls eyes* So, I look around at all the phones I would not be getting while we wait to ask the morons there if they can please make my phone work like a normal phone. See, it's still doing the same thing of taking a decade to open text messages and not really hanging up my calls. God forbid I ever need to hang up and try to make a call to 911 or something else right away because it's just not going to happen on my phone. Let's say, for the sake of description, that the average phone now-a-days is like the iPhone, okay? My phone, compared to that, would be like an old rotary phone...Like this kind of phone:
Don't laugh. It's true. So, after looking around, I sat down to wait. There were like four people in front of us in line and the computers were slow, so it was going to be a while. Suddenly, Phoenix asks me if I saw the woman on the phone. I said, "No." She then points out a lady on one of the display phones, yelling at someone. Don't believe me? Well, I made Phoenix take a picture, just to prove to you that I am not a liar.
So, I ask, how ghetto do you have to be to use a phone, at a phone store, to call someone? Phoenix suggested that whoever she was talking to might not accept her calls from her number, which may be true...Still, it was seriously ghetto!!
Speaking of ghetto, I saw one of my bosses at the Verizon store. Apparently, the shaved head, older guy she was with was her fiance. Ew. *gags* She was there with two women too, who were her mom and sister. Anyway, I didn't say hello because I wasn't 100% sure it was her and she didn't say anything either. The sad thing was that I had the overwhelming urge to ask, "Who's this guy? I thought you were with (insert cart-boy's name from work she's screwing on the side here)." My good buddy from work, Tortilla, thinks my boss would then find a reason to fire me, but I think it would've been worth it...*giggles wildly* Oh yeah, we ended up leaving before they called our name. We were there for like 30 minutes and only one other person had been helped, so we said screw it. Unfortunately, this only means I'll have to go back again...BAH!
Speaking of work and ghetto people...So, yesterday I went to work even though I would've preferred to stay home and let my head just explode, which I'm like 99% sure it's going to. (Really, how can a cold/sinus infection made my head hurt so badly???) But, I'm a trooper and I went in. Of course, I saw my boss from the Verizon store and confirmed it was her. That's not the point though...I was busily bagging bread or something when I heard some people up by the deli counter and since Tortilla was busily making sandwiches, I went to check. There was a woman with a cart full of children and a man. The woman was looking at stuff, but not buying. The man was struggling with something near the hot case. I was like, "What's he doing?" so I moved closer to see. I ask the woman if I can help her even though I'm trying to figure out what the hell the man is going because it looked to me like he was trying to open a container of something. She says, "No, I'm just looking." I then ask the guy, "Can I help you with something?" And I'm sure that my voice was dripping with sarcasm at this point in time because I was finally close enough to see that he was opening up the container of the 8-piece fried chicken. WTF? Who opens the chicken? Well, obviously this guy, but who else!? He says, "No." I then asked what he was doing because he's like counting the pieces of chicken. He then holds up the chicken to me and asks, "Is that a thigh or a breast? I can't tell which it is! What is it?" I say, "I'm not sure. Let me see the container." I then use tongs to shift the chicken and show him that it's a breast, a small breast, but a breast nonetheless. He growls at me about how last time he was in he bought chicken and was gyp-ed because he got three thighs and a breast, not two and two like it's supposed to be. I was temped to ask him where on the package it says that because it says, "8-piece Fried Chicken", but I didn't say a word. He said he would not be screwed over again. Nothing I said made him happy though. And looking back on the whole scene, I think that even though I had confirmed that it was two and two, I think he switched the open fried chicken for another container of it. I also wonder if he had opened the other ones before I came out from the back. Who opens containers though!? It's freakin' disgusting!! I mean, I remember my mom buying the boxes of the Banquet Fried Chicken (I don't know why she never made homemade fried chicken...weird...) from the store and sometimes we would get this weird piece of chicken that wasn't anything recognizable and she and I would joke that it was like a rat or something else equally gross...Of course, this is the piece I would serve to my brother (JUST KIDDING!). Still, even though this often happened and it never failed, when this weird piece was in there, something else would be missing (a thigh, a breast, a drumstick, etc), my mom never took it upon herself to first open the box at the store to lay out the pieces of chicken to count them and make sure they were all there!! However, if she did do that, it would go something like this, "Heather, open the box and tell me what's in there." And, being the obedient, well-behaved, adorable child I was *grins innocently*, I would've opened the box and showed her all the pieces inside. But we didn't do that because, whereas we might've been rather poor, we weren't GHETTO WHITE TRASH! People are disgusting!
This also reminds me of a story of Phoenix and I at Fry's Food Market...I had bought a container of sour cream one night because we were having tacos or something else that required sour cream. Well, when I got home and opened it, it was liquid. I mean, it was so gross. So, we took it back to exchange it the next day. When we went back, I grabbed one and Phoenix said, "Wait" and proceeded to open it to make sure it was okay. It was close enough in time that had it come from a bad shipment, we could still end up with bad sour cream, you know? (That seems like a double negative, huh? Bad sour cream....Could we call that "soured sour cream"....lol) Anyway, she opened the lid and then peeled back the safety thing and declared it good sour cream. Meanwhile, an older gentleman saw this and stood by horrified before angrily telling her, "You can't open that!" Of course, my normally quiet girlfriend took this time to not be quiet and she proceeded to argue with him. It was rather amusing. Whereas some might not see the difference, there is one...I had spoiled sour cream and wanted to make sure I wasn't getting it again. I put that one in the cart and didn't exchange it for one not opened...lol Phoenix and I are not White trash...Well, obviously she's not, but whatever...You know what I mean...*shifty eyes*
So, yeah...People are ghetto. You know what I've realized though? That guy bitched because he got an extra thigh but was shorted a breast, but I'll guarantee that he wouldn't complain if he got an extra breast or 9 pieces instead of 8. There are tons of times where I'll put together 8-pieces at the end of the night and come up with extra pieces because people buy some of the other fried chicken, so I'll throw in extra pieces, just to sell it, you know? No one ever comes back and says, "Hey! I got a 10 piece instead of 8!! I want to pay the difference!" Nope, but they'll bitch every time they get shorted somehow. *rolls eyes* Oh well...I must go rest now. I think that from all the stress of the holidays and everything else, I wore myself out and now I am sick with some sort of cold/sinus infection. My nose won't stop running...And I'm so tired that I don't even want to chase it anymore. *rolls eyes at lame joke* Peace out, folks. I'll blog again soon, hopefully...
No comments:
Post a Comment