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#alecks blabbers
strifegrade · 5 years
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It’s been p awesome, y’all.
Hope to see you guys on the other side <3 
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ratchetjersey · 6 years
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Before I resign myself to getting stoned and watching stupid Jim Carrey movies I have to relay the story of being called a bitch STRAIGHT TO MY FUCKING FACE by a customer today. Because I've worked in gas stations for close to five years and never once have been cussed so openly. Beating around the bush, yeah, of course I've had my fair share of subtle hints that I'm doing my job poorly, or that I didn't go to college and this is why you go to school (joke's on those fuckers, I was paying for school through that job and CHOSE to stick around afterward), but never once has anyone flat-out called me a bitch to my own ears.
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So let's set the scene: it's 7:30 on a Tuesday night, my other cashier is helping a very pleasant gentlemen, and this woman comes through my line. From the get-go I can tell it's going to be a miserable interaction. She's on her cell phone, very loudly having a conversation about how terrible her life is in this particular moment. Doesn't say a word to me, just slams her shit down and rolls her eyes when I don't acknowledge her. This is fine, I sort of expect it, but as a general rule I refuse to interact with anyone talking on their cell phones. I'm not worth their time, so they're not worth mine. It's one of the few little "fuck yous" I have against rude customers.
So I scan and bag her groceries, she's blabbering away on her phone, and I'm watching her card get refused again and again. "My card won't work," she barks at me, and continues sliding her card furiously. I try to quietly explain that we can manually enter the card number, it's no big deal, we'll get it sorted and she can be on her way.
"Why won't it work?"
There are a multitude of reasons for a card not to work on our machines but the error messages I'm receiving obviously point toward the magnetic strip being worn out. I know this and I know there's no other explanation for these precise messages.
"Well, sometimes," I explain, "the magnetic strip on your card gets worn and the machine --"
"I think it's your machines, 'cause it ALWAYS works on that register."
At this point she's already entering the card number, something she is doing expertly for being so confused at the prospect of having to do it. Keep in mind she is on her phone the entire time and hasn't really listened to anything I've said, and there's nothing I can do to please this woman who's obviously determined to have a bad day so I just shrug and say, "Okay." There's literally nothing I can do for this woman; she just wants to bitch.
She then looks me straight in the eye and says to the person on the other end of the phone, "I am so sick of dealing with bitchy-ass people today."
"Me too," I say, and grin. I don't ever talk back, and I take a lot of shit. I don't want to be complained on so I bite my tongue to the offhand sexual comments, the backward compliments, anything that someone can claim I "misconstrued." But I've been through some shit and I will not let someone call me a bitch directly to my face without saying SOMETHING. And that something was a smart-aleck remark that might get me into trouble, but, I mean, what's she gonna say? That I talked back when she cursed me?
So she gets huffy, walks off, then comes back to demand my name. I don't even look up. I can tell out of the corner of my eye she's staring down my chest trying to find my name tag. (She never finds it, by the way. Even though it's right there.) "Rachel, pleased to meet you."
She again huffs off, imploring me to have an overexaggerated ~blessed day.~
"Thank you!" I beam. "You too, I really appreciate you!"
"Bitch," she says again, an exaggerated sigh loud enough for the whole store to hear.
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It would be one thing if I had been nasty to her, or even a little cold, but I wasn't. I was as pleasant as I could be and literally every single person that got the pleasure of experiencing that debacle, from coworkers to customers, told me I had done nothing wrong. Then one of my regulars gave me a dollar.
Most days I really love my job. Today I hate it.
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americanbackyard · 4 years
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Don’t Talk To Me
Perhaps one of the most amazingly sad truths about the herd mentality, not the one regarding immunity from disease, but herd immunity from intelligent thinking, is how gullible people are. Reality can be right in front of some folks yet they refuse to acknowledge it and turn elsewhere for more complex, yet completely out of touch versions of it. Those people online that constantly post long rants about this or that not being as bad, that the numbers are fake, that we are being lied to, or that it is someone else’s fault, write as if they have some kind of proof, some epic game changing thing that whey interestingly don’t share right away. They say that “testing indicates”, and “it has been proven”, or “it is a fact that...”, yet they offer no information to back up their claims. They can’t even comprehend why we question them about it. If you encountered me on the street as I was running toward you screaming, “RUN! IT’S GODZILLA”, and you asked me what proof I had of that, would you believe me if I said it has been exposed that the main stream media has lied about Godzilla destroying the city and that you should run too? If you then asked what physical proof I had of this, I then get angry and shake my head as if you are an idiot and I am special and you are to be pitied for your ignorance on the matter? Then as you push me about it even harder I finally reveal to you some conspiracy theorist’s website containing a half dozen ridiculously crafted and easily debunked ramblings? Would you then run? If you don’t then I will call you a sheep and yell “MAGA!”, like my peers who also think they know more than you and those “like you”.
The thing is that people are treating this kind of behavior as something new, when it certainly is not. We have always had know-it-alls, Cliff Clavens, tellers of tall tales, smart alecks, wiseacres, braggarts, windbags, big headed, smug, pompous, cocky, highfalutin, condescending, self-congratulatory, patronizing, shit talking pricks among us, yakkety yakking about whatnot and whatever. They may be telling us about the commie plot, about the flat earth, giving us overcomplicated directions to a location, simply because they want us to know that they know more about it all. They provide made up statistics, cite unknown articles or polls, and eventually reveal their sources to be some crackpot’s facebook page, shifty information profit pirates, disguised troll groups, or purposeful misguidance sites posing as truth revealers for those in the know. And they always do it with their chin up, with a smirk and the pride of a child who used the potty for the very first time! Yay for them! What a big boy or girl you are!
We ignored them then as we should try to ignore them now. Wasn’t that what our parents and teachers told us to do, pre-internet and pre-smart phone? We ignored them and they went away. It’s harder to do now of course because they have so many more ways of wedging their way into our lives, even if for a brief time, to shower us with their unwanted opinions based on fifth party blabber and gleefully presented to us in some wretched bombast. To me they are like someone who has been taught their entire life how to do something wrong, like playing an instrument, and although they have been presented with the right way to play said instrument many times, they refuse to accept that they are doing it incorrectly and will spitefully show you how they demand it is played and that YOU are the one who is doing it wrong, even though their performance on the saxophone sounds like a rampaging elephant with a pipe organ stuck in it’s throat. To them it is a grand concerto, but to you and every other unfortunate soul within earshot, it is a disaster of titanic proportions to the inner ear. Do not give them the attention they think they deserve. They will fade away if we do not provide them with enthusiasm or prolonged debate, or they will continue to influence others utilizing the power we have given them through our audience and engagement. Do not allow them the glory of having the last word. They believe that your failure is their triumph, even though it is quite the opposite.
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