SHIT I'M SICK OF DEALING WITH

by Lois Kobb

You know, you just don't realize how utterly retarded people are until you have a job that involves large numbers of them. I'm a cashier at Home Depot, so believe me, I KNOW.

I'm sick of children--or more precisely, the parents who let their demon spawn run all over the store, completely unsupervised. This isn't a fucking playground! There are all kinds of big, heavy things and sharp objects that can injure an unsupervised child, and if the kid gets hurt, the store gets sued for it! Why do people even have children if they don't want to bother taking care of them? With all the kidnappings going on, you think parents would keep better track of their offspring.

I'm sick of lousy service. Hey, I work in a store, and even I admit that we have shitty service there. I'll call someone for a price check on something, and they won't answer the phone. I page them, but they don't respond. One time, after paging the lumber department three times, I ended up leaving the register and looking up a bar code number myself--only to find three guys standing in the lumber aisle, yakking at each other!

I'm sick of people coming in with a cartload of merchandise to return, and they give me a handful of receipts to sort out. "I don't know which things are on which receipts," they say. What the hell do they think I am, their goddamn secretary?? It's not my job to do their bookkeeping for them. They should have everything in order when they come in so they don't hold up the line for 20 minutes, the inconsiderate jerks.

I'm sick of old people. Not all old people, just the grouchy farts who are always griping about the prices of things. This isn't 1922 anymore, you wrinkled, festering old ballsacks! Try living in the 21st Century instead of the Bronze Age and you'll be happier.

I'm sick of people who think screaming at the cashier or manager is a great way to get their point across. Store policies are there for a reason and we aren't authorized to change them. If people don't like it, they should write to corporate headquarters and bitch at them. Or they can go fuck themselves, I don't care.

I'm sick of trying to explain things to people with the intellectual capacity of a lemur. I swear, explaining store policy to some of these tards is like trying to explain fractal mathematics to a toddler--you just know it isn't sinking in.

I'm sick of people who think I should know everything there is to know about the 120,000 items on Home Despot's shelves. I'm a cashier. I ring up your purchases, I take your money, I give you your change, I tell you to have a nice day. That's all. I can point you to the plumbing department, but I can't tell you a damn thing about installing your water heater.

Most of all, I'm sick of always ending up stuck in these horrible jobs that involve dealing with the public! Quitting isn't an option right now; otherwise, you can bet I'd be out of there.

And that's my rant of the day. Thank you for shopping at Home Fucking Depot. Have a nice fucking day