People I Hate

1. Money droppers. Fuck you. You can hand me your money, or you can place it on the counter, but don't fucking throw it at me. I should start throwing change back.
2. In-your-facers. You have a question, not something to prove. Your toes shouldn't touch mine when we are talking. It's not like you have a secret or we're trying not to wake the baby. We can talk at arm's length.
3. "Where's the _____?" Just the opposite of the above. Shut the fuck up. If you haven't looked, try having a glance at our handy aisle signs. If you are still unsure, kindly approach an employee and ask. Notice how that did not include "yell from the other side of the store."
4. Retards and the Pompous. First, don't tell me what shit is, what shit isn't, or what shit is supposed to be. It is what it fucking is. Don't come into my store and ask, "Hey, bro, where the cold beer at?" because we don't fucking have any. We've never had any. In the who knows how many decades this store has been open, we have never had cold beer. Are you fucking new to this? If so, politely ask if we have cold beer, and I will politely tell you we don't, never have, and never will so long as we live. Secondly, don't assume like wine is common knowledge or that you're so much fucking better for drinking it. When I say, "no, I don't really drink wine" don't keep asking me how they fucking taste. They taste like grape juice that's gone bad! It's a fucking retail job. It's like the people who expect cashiers to know the posted price of every product in a giant store. What, do you think I go home every night and try a new bottle of wine so I can have a professional opinion on it? It's like asking a cashier at the grocery store if the fish is any good, and when they say "yes" you ask if the chicken is better! You should know which you like better! These people clearly make me the maddest.
5. That fucking foreign bitch from today.

Foreigner (from another country, not the band): Ackskuse, Ihk'm lüking fohr jus, hkelp in wit it chippe botil... wïne. Und eeehhh...
Me (while at the till finishing running someone through): I'm sorry, what was that?
Foreigner: "Hkelp!" You dohn't no vat hkelp iss?!
My brain: Fuck you! You don't know what "get ze fuck out" iss? Schnell!
Me: ....
Foreigner: Chippe botil wïne.
Me: How much are you looking to spend?
Foreigner: Chippist botil.
Me: The Rossini. Right (fucking) here.
Foreigner: People (motions with hands) drink it?
Me: People mostly use it for cooking-
Foreigner: Cookink! What people drink? Vat else?
Me: We have Barefoot, red and white, $8.39.
Foreigner: Vat?
Me: Barefoot. $8.39. Aisle 4.
Foreigner: Where?!
Me: Aisle 4.
Foreigner: Vat?
Me: 4. Aisle 4.
(I go to help another customer at the till)
Foreigner: Vat khind?
Me: Barefoot. Aisle 4. Red and white.

I mean, jesus fucking christ, woman. You yell at me for not hearing you mumble behind my back and you can't comprehend one fucking word that comes out of my mouth! What's worse, she walks her cart down aisle 3 and makes a 15 minute phonecall! The icing? She didn't buy the fucking Barefoot after 45 minutes of shopping.

I don't know who you are, where you came from, or where you're going, but I hope you go die in a fire.