Customers

Being in the retail sector, I get to deal with customers. Some are awesome. They're easy going and easy to please.

Customer: "Do you have carrots?"

Me: "No, unfortunately not. We're sold out."

Customer: "That sucks. I'll just stop somewhere else then. Thanks for your help."

Others are less easy going, but at least they're understanding.

Customer: "Do you have celery?"

Me: "No. Unfortunately, we're sold out."

Customer: "When will they be in?"

Me: "Hopefully tomorrow."

Customer: "Fine then. I'll try later."

A final, and very small, group is not easy going; you cannot please them, no matter how hard you try. The rapture is coming, and the only way they can avoid walking the hellfires of earth and ascend into heaven is to buy that one item you don't have.

Customer: "Do you have cucumbers?"

Me: "No. I'm sorry, but the warehouse didn't send us any today."

Customer: "I'LL KILL YOU AND EAT YOUR CHILDREN!!!"

Naturally, I had to deal with a customer from that last group. She came up to me with a couple kids in tow; I could instantly tell that she was going to eat my children. Children that I don't have.

"Excuse me," she said, a snarl across her lips. "Where are your bagged onions?"

Uh-oh. I am a dead man. I can see the light. I have been at work all of ten minutes, and I am a dead man. Oh sweet Jesus...

"I'm sorry ma'am, but we don't have any. The warehouse didn't send us any today," I replied. I didn't know if that was true, but any inkling that we had some earlier would have led to my very sudden and extraordinary violent death.

"Why the FUCK not?" she demanded. I could see the anger in her eyes. There go my children. I hope they were delicious.

"They didn't have any. If they did, they would have sent them to us." I told her. "You're not the first customer to ask. We should hopefully have some tomorrow."

That answer wasn't good enough. The look she gave me should have cut me in half. I checked to see if I was in two seperate pieces. Nope, I was still in one piece. For now.

"Jesus fucking Christ. I came here for one goddamn thing and it's not here. This is fucking ridiculous. That's the third time this week. Why the fucking Christ do I come to this goddamn store? What the fuck is the point? You're worthless. Go check in the back!"

Written words cannot convey her tone of voice. Rather than argue with her, I went to the back. I was not going to risk sudden death by telling her (again) that I knew there were no onions. I hid out of her view for a few seconds, then went back to tell her the bad news: I'd checked, and we had no onions.

"FUCKING CHRIST!! I'm never shopping her again! Fuck this," she snapped. "When will you have more fucking onions? It'd better be soon, or I will never shop here again!"

"That won't bother me in the least," I thought, being smart enough to keep that to myself. I looked at her and said, "Tomorrow, hopefully. I offer no guarantees though."

"Fucking Christ. Come on kids," she commanded as she turned around. She strutted off with her kids.

I survived!!

I'm going to give her the benefit of the doubt and presume that she'd had an extremely bad day. Maybe her husband had just died in a freak space shuttle accident. Maybe she found out that she was overweight. Maybe her parents had just announced their divorce through a hilarious telegram: "We were happily married for a few years; unfortunately we were married for 25!"

Whatever the reason, those kids are going to need of some serious therapy when they get older. Presuming she doesn't eat them first.

The Sun

I went out drinking the other night and heard what has to be one of the funniest quotes ever. I don't remember the guy's name, so I'm going to call him mapboy. We're all gathered around a table and looking at a map.

Mapboy: "What's that?"

Someone: "It's a map of the world."

Mapboy: "Where's the sun?"

Priceless.... That's all I can say. We didn't stop laughing for quite a while.

What not to do... with your child

I witnessed something incredibly disturbing today: a 10 year-old girl (yes, 10. Maybe younger. I heard the girl talking about her older sister's eleventh birthday party) WEARING DAISY DUKES!!

Let me iterate: she was WEARING DAISY DUKES!!

I SAW ASS CHEEKS!! I feel like a pedophile. This brings me to a question: why would a mother, who was shopping with her daughter, allow her daughter to walk out of the house with her ass cheeks hanging out? That's insane.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go shower. Maybe I'll be able to scrub off the dirty feeling, but I doubt it.

Future Plans

The other day, I was at work trimming lettuce. It's tedious but braindead work, so it allows me ample time for observation and conversation. I work with a 15 year-old kid who's trying to get as many hours as possible before school starts. He likes to tell me about his future plans, which has led to some hilarious moments.

As I'm standing there trimming lettuce and minding my own business, he comes up to me and says, "Dude, it's bitches' duty to give me sex.'

I looked at him for a second before I opened my mouth to say aything. I told him,"I'm pretty sure that every woman on earth would disagree with you."

"Why?" he asked, totally serious. It was priceless; I couldn't stop laughing. He is in for a major surprise if he thinks he's owed sex. I guess that happens when you get "buffed up from lifting all that heavy produce shit" (his words). I'm astounded that female customers aren't jumping him on the sales floor.

He left, returning about a half hour later. This time, it was all about his car.

"Dude, I'm gonna race you in my car. You wanna race me in my car?" he challegened one of my other co-workers. "I own a 2009 Mustang. I can beat you man."

I didn't believe him. This kid is 15 and doesn't even have his driver's licence. The only thing I could think to ask was, "How the hell do you own a 2009 Ford Mustang? They're worth like $20 000."

"I have loans, man. I gotta pay them back."

Seriously... would you loan $20 000 dollars to a 15 year-old kid to buy a 2009 Ford Mustang? I didn't think so. He went on, "It didn't cost me that much. It doesn't have an engine.......or seats."

There is no way to describe how hard I laughed. This kid is going far... after he gets his drivers licence, that is.

The Sensitive Ones

My story begins a couple of months ago. The house I live in has been for sale for some time. While I was at french camp, I received a phone call from the realtor, Bruce. The conversation went something like this:

Bruce: "Keener, it's Bruce calling. Someone is looking at buying the house. My office says you know all about it. What do you know about everyone's leases?"

Me: "What? I know nothing. Your office hasn't called me in like two months."

Bruce: "Oh. They told me they've been phoning you. Well, we have someone who's looking at buying the house. When are the leases done?"

Me: "I dunno. I'm on month to month. I think the others are done at the end of August. Call Dan, he'll know for sure."

Bruce: "We can't find him. He went camping and disappeared. When is the soonest you can be out?"

Me: "I dunno. In the event of an emergency I could probably be out by August."

You can file that line under obvious foreshadowing.

Bruce: "Okay. We'll keep you posted. Enjoy french camp."

I thought nothing of our conversation until a few days later when I received an email from Dan. He said that the house was sold and that Bruce said I knew everything.

Excuse me? I know everything? What the fuck?

After some emailing back and forth, I learn that a navy officer bought the house. Everything seemed cool until a few days later, when I got another email from one of my roommates. Dan told them I was moving out by August. This was news to me.

Fast forward several weeks. Dan comes back to Ottawa to finish up some paperwork for the house. After talking to him for a while, he lets me know that I'm supposed to be out by August. I have less than 3 weeks to find a house before I leave for vacation. I nicely let Dan know that I'm not moving because 3 weeks is not enough time.

Once again everything's cool. I'm on vacation visiting my parents when I get an email from Dan telling me to phone him. Oh shit....

I get into contact with him and he tells me that the new owners don't want me in the house. According to the contract I'm supposed to be gone, moved out, not living there; I'm supposed to be in a new place... which I now somehow have to find, rent, and move into. All from Southern Alberta.

Are you serious? Jesus Christ.

Dan ends up fixing the situation and I get to stay in the house. It cost him $1000 though. I can't figure out why the lawyers, who are being paid upwards of $300 an hour to draw up the contract, can't take 5 minutes out of their highly paid and obviously important time to confirm the move-out dates for everyone. They just have to contact the realtor and have him phone us again to double-check. That's it.

Of course, I should have kept my mouth shut too. I learned my lesson: do not be a nice guy.

I arrived back home from vacation to find the new owners in my house. All their stuff was in the living room, making it look like an IKEA warehouse. An ugly IKEA warehouse. It takes a full two days before I finally meet the new owner. He's a gay navy officer. A gay navy officer. I nearly died holding back my laughter. I wasn't laughing because he's gay; I was laughing at the stereotype. It was even funnier when I learned he served on a submarine....something long, hard, and fill with seamen.

Say it out loud.... Do it.

It's been two weeks and I've talked to him three times. The other roommate has only spoken to me once. I've tried talking to him; he doesn't answer. I'm a stranger in my own house.

The funniest moment came from my roommates. I received an email with one of the greatest photos that I've ever seen:

Awesome photo. I'm sad I missed it.