<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7666563495847155540</id><updated>2011-07-08T05:16:34.597-07:00</updated><title type='text'>paper, plastic or idiot?</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Miss M.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11843612770792301774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U4_l5eDN4x8/SM29oM6bJOI/AAAAAAAAAAc/JezjjSFqIXg/S220/Photo+393.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>24</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7666563495847155540.post-3787840349122479001</id><published>2009-08-17T07:08:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-17T07:09:16.469-07:00</updated><title type='text'>totally a bummer</title><content type='html'>it's slighly annoying to me that people aren't as nuts here as they are at my old store. it leaves me with a surprising lack of blogger fodder. hmph. i mean yea ok, i get a lot of crazy white trash methfaces, but theyre just sad. oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fuck it im going to the beach before work. viva summer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7666563495847155540-3787840349122479001?l=pricecheckplz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/feeds/3787840349122479001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7666563495847155540&amp;postID=3787840349122479001' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/3787840349122479001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/3787840349122479001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/2009/08/totally-bummer.html' title='totally a bummer'/><author><name>Miss M.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11843612770792301774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U4_l5eDN4x8/SM29oM6bJOI/AAAAAAAAAAc/JezjjSFqIXg/S220/Photo+393.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7666563495847155540.post-3088710020178959041</id><published>2009-07-18T10:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-18T10:49:52.261-07:00</updated><title type='text'>crossblogging</title><content type='html'>soemtimes i think i should be cross-blogging (is that even a word?) with www.whythefuckdoyouhaveakid.com because there are some terrible terrible terrible instances of people who should NOT  breed that shop at my store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i honestly wish that i could take pictures of some of these people. i mean, it is a cross section of america that makes my eyes pop out of my head.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7666563495847155540-3088710020178959041?l=pricecheckplz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/feeds/3088710020178959041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7666563495847155540&amp;postID=3088710020178959041' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/3088710020178959041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/3088710020178959041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/2009/07/crossblogging.html' title='crossblogging'/><author><name>Miss M.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11843612770792301774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U4_l5eDN4x8/SM29oM6bJOI/AAAAAAAAAAc/JezjjSFqIXg/S220/Photo+393.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7666563495847155540.post-757781328155425195</id><published>2009-07-12T08:03:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-12T08:06:50.600-07:00</updated><title type='text'>so last night...</title><content type='html'>i witnessed a drunk AND pregnant woman buying supplies for her 2 year old son's birthday party with food stamps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;its obviously not the food stamp part that bothers me. : /&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh, and when there is a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;barrier&lt;/span&gt; blocking the one entrance near closing time, do NOT go around it to try to get out of it. its there for a reason, idiots. (the reason being? THE DOOR IS LOCKED).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it kind of freaks me out being the closing cashier at this store, because the front end person leaves a half hour before the store closes. and its just me, a bagger (who generally is special needs), and a mgr who just kinda stay in their office. i feel like this is how horror movies start and i'm totally not into it. yikes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7666563495847155540-757781328155425195?l=pricecheckplz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/feeds/757781328155425195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7666563495847155540&amp;postID=757781328155425195' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/757781328155425195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/757781328155425195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/2009/07/so-last-night.html' title='so last night...'/><author><name>Miss M.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11843612770792301774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U4_l5eDN4x8/SM29oM6bJOI/AAAAAAAAAAc/JezjjSFqIXg/S220/Photo+393.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7666563495847155540.post-8261811752002111044</id><published>2009-07-01T19:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-01T20:30:14.107-07:00</updated><title type='text'>and to think...i ALMOST thought this would be different</title><content type='html'>ok. so. i'm almost done with my second week being gainfully (or maybe NOT so gainfully, as i am getting very few hours) employed at a different store in a different part of the country. now, i usually get scheduled at customer service. no. they've been scheduling me as a casheir. which really hurts, because it's SO boring. i can't even. so, i've noticed that almost everyone is a lot nicer than in my old region. and that's great. no one's called me stupid, but others have kinda given me the cold shoulder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;really, the demographic of the citizens of this area is kinda crazy. its like 1/2 white trash methfaces, half yuppies with crazy tans and shorts with whales embroidered on them. and if i have to do one more fucking wic check i'm gonna slap someone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;regardless, the thing that made me most feel like i was at home happened tuesday night. i've been extrordinarily friendly to people and what not, but when this woman asked me "can i talk to your manager?" in such a way that made me think that i did something wrong, i started like shakinnnnng. i guess im so used to crazies blaming me for everything. anyway, so i got my front end mgr and the girl was like "hi how can i help you?" and she's like "i want to complain about the cigarette butts outside" and i was like "phew. well. its not me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so the mgr came up, talked to the broad, and i guess like...apologized, cause she left. i then later heard my front end mgr telling another girl "yeah she walked past me and was like "COUGH COUGH COUGH ::DIRTY LOOK::" i was kind of like...really? like...is it really that big of a deal? omg there are cig butts outside ALERT THE AUTHORITIES!!! idk, i am clearly all about the environment. but cig butts are realllllly easy to clean up. there is no reason that a customer should have been bitchin about it. idk, but wtf.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;home for the weekend, USA USA USA! &lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7666563495847155540-8261811752002111044?l=pricecheckplz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/feeds/8261811752002111044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7666563495847155540&amp;postID=8261811752002111044' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/8261811752002111044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/8261811752002111044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/2009/07/and-to-thinki-almost-thought-this-would.html' title='and to think...i ALMOST thought this would be different'/><author><name>Miss M.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11843612770792301774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U4_l5eDN4x8/SM29oM6bJOI/AAAAAAAAAAc/JezjjSFqIXg/S220/Photo+393.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7666563495847155540.post-1381373501905997007</id><published>2009-06-10T05:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-10T05:42:18.066-07:00</updated><title type='text'>a few general thoguhs here</title><content type='html'>first of all. the glove lady has not been seen by my own eyes since swine flu came  out. i thinkkk she's barricaded in her apartment and never coming out. which is sort of a bummer, because she really is hilarious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;second of all. i'm transferring stores to a store in another state since i'm moving for grad school tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i hope there are enough crazies there that i can continue this blog. omg.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7666563495847155540-1381373501905997007?l=pricecheckplz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/feeds/1381373501905997007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7666563495847155540&amp;postID=1381373501905997007' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/1381373501905997007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/1381373501905997007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/2009/06/few-general-thoguhs-here.html' title='a few general thoguhs here'/><author><name>Miss M.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11843612770792301774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U4_l5eDN4x8/SM29oM6bJOI/AAAAAAAAAAc/JezjjSFqIXg/S220/Photo+393.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7666563495847155540.post-3516117553609940865</id><published>2009-04-19T19:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-19T20:42:29.439-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the music in my store</title><content type='html'>ok. so. stores all over the country have terrible music. that kind of goes without saying. our store's radio channel isn't the worst i have heard ( cause at least they don't play that awfulll elevator music) but it is by no means GOOD. every now and then, i notice a good song playing. some highlights include:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;strange condition by pete yorn&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;africa by toto&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;assorted classic rock songs&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;counting blue cars by dishwalla (shut up. such a good song)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;the middle by jimmy eat world&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;there are also a TON of hilariously nostalgic songs that play on our store radio, such as:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;wannabe by spice girls&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;mmmbop by hanson&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;breakfast at tiffany's by deep blue something&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;and then there are just the terrible terrible terrible adult contemporary songs that i hear adnauseum. like...its really bad when i start singing along with these songs. there are also songs that i just hate. a lot of them, i have no idea what they are. like there is this song that i could only describe if i made an audio file of me singing but it is SO bad and i hate it so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;how hard would it be to make a store radio station that like, is slightly hip but not aids for the ears? i mean i know all that crappyass market research about the  certain "beats per minute" in songs that makes people buy more, but COME ON!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sorry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7666563495847155540-3516117553609940865?l=pricecheckplz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/feeds/3516117553609940865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7666563495847155540&amp;postID=3516117553609940865' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/3516117553609940865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/3516117553609940865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/2009/04/music-in-my-store.html' title='the music in my store'/><author><name>Miss M.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11843612770792301774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U4_l5eDN4x8/SM29oM6bJOI/AAAAAAAAAAc/JezjjSFqIXg/S220/Photo+393.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7666563495847155540.post-7282916724776486287</id><published>2009-03-01T19:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T20:03:01.896-08:00</updated><title type='text'>a few open letters...</title><content type='html'>dear bread lady,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;how many effin times are you going to return the same fucking loaf of bread? how many times do you expect us to believe that your boyfriend bought you the wrong kind? do you get off on this shit, you stupid bitch?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;love, m.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dear liars,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;why must you lie to me  and tell me that the lines are crazy out there? do you think i cannot see the front end? nothing infuriates me more, you assholes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;love, m.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dear glovie,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;are you dead? i miss your shenegans, even though you annoy the living shit out of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;love, m.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and the piece de resistance...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dear misogynistic asshole from the other day,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;don't call me stupid because i am a woman. taht's a real fine example you're setting for you eight year old daughter. you're a really good dude. i'm sure. seriously choke on it, you dick. i hope your wife leaves you cause you are a pig.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;love, m.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7666563495847155540-7282916724776486287?l=pricecheckplz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/feeds/7282916724776486287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7666563495847155540&amp;postID=7282916724776486287' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/7282916724776486287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/7282916724776486287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/2009/03/few-open-letters.html' title='a few open letters...'/><author><name>Miss M.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11843612770792301774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U4_l5eDN4x8/SM29oM6bJOI/AAAAAAAAAAc/JezjjSFqIXg/S220/Photo+393.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7666563495847155540.post-6243769120135915560</id><published>2009-01-27T18:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T19:36:01.071-08:00</updated><title type='text'>That whole salmonella thing...</title><content type='html'>i'm beginning to think that i should just write about the glove lady, because she is so effin entertaining...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;two weeks ago, there was that whole salmonella/peanutbutter recall. ok all well and good. not a big deal. so a few days after the news broke, i get a phone call. "HI! ITS SARAH!" and i know its her, because i had to take her ID for an expensive return one day. immediately, i am like "fuggg this is gonna be GOOD!" so, she starts rambling about how "on friday, i was here. i bought some groceries, including a can of peanuts. now, i ate some, then went about my night, ate dinner, then felt really sick to my stomach...and then all of a sudden! i realized! IT WAS THE PEANUTS! IM BRINGING THEM BACK. YOU KNOW I HAVE SENSITIVITIES!" and im like dying laughing. like i can;t take her! also, whats the deal with her returning cherry coke zero? she requests we stock it, then returns it. whatttt!!!!! i can;t deal.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7666563495847155540-6243769120135915560?l=pricecheckplz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/feeds/6243769120135915560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7666563495847155540&amp;postID=6243769120135915560' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/6243769120135915560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/6243769120135915560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/2009/01/that-whole-salmonella-thing.html' title='That whole salmonella thing...'/><author><name>Miss M.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11843612770792301774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U4_l5eDN4x8/SM29oM6bJOI/AAAAAAAAAAc/JezjjSFqIXg/S220/Photo+393.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7666563495847155540.post-6982689827908373853</id><published>2009-01-15T15:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T15:15:28.984-08:00</updated><title type='text'>APpARENTLY</title><content type='html'>ONE OF MY COWORKERS SET OFF THE PANIC BUTTON&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CAUSING THE TOWNS PD AND LIKE SWAT TEAM TO COME TO MY STORE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND THAT TOTALLY MAKES ME LAUGH&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i definitely wish i was there today cause i would've been ON THE FLOOR laughing. hasdfjkashfjkasfhjkasdf&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hahahahahah&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7666563495847155540-6982689827908373853?l=pricecheckplz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/feeds/6982689827908373853/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7666563495847155540&amp;postID=6982689827908373853' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/6982689827908373853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/6982689827908373853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/2009/01/apparently.html' title='APpARENTLY'/><author><name>Miss M.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11843612770792301774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U4_l5eDN4x8/SM29oM6bJOI/AAAAAAAAAAc/JezjjSFqIXg/S220/Photo+393.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7666563495847155540.post-7804432229125107755</id><published>2009-01-11T19:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T20:34:46.476-08:00</updated><title type='text'>cell phone etiquitte. is it REALLY that hard to follow?</title><content type='html'>in a world as connected as we are, i completely understand that attachment to our cell phones that we all have. believe me, i do. just yesterday, my dad said from across the room, "m. is this your phone? i don't think i have ever seen it not on your person".  but really...how hard is it to be a little more polite when it comes to cell phones in public places?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;honestly, i get off my cell if i am encountering a cashier or something like that. or i ask my friend to hold up a sec and place my order or whatever. when i am on the receiving end of things like this, it makes me feel a lot better. however, if you are an asshole who continues their conversation while sort of asking for cigs, etc on the dl...holy shit am i gonna be a dick to you. i most likely will be very loud when asking if i can help you with anything, telling you your total, or telling you to have a FABULOUS day. i just cannot stand rudeness. it's like...seriously, give me a little effin respect you assclowns.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the same thing kind of goes for people who yell into their cells in a public place. no one wants to hear the sordid details of whatever they hell you are talking about. take it outside, or in your car. i've legitimately heard people  yelling into their cells about things that look like they could be infected "down there" WOW HOW DISCREET ARE YOU PEOPLE?!?!?! omfg. i can't even.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the other day i managed to get a combo of the two things that i just mentioned...in one person. ugh.  first, came an example of the latter description. this lady is standing in front of my service desk flat out YELLING into her phone about some stupid shit, being all obnoxious and yelling "I DONT KNOW WHY SHE DIDNT KNOW. ITS NOT LIKE I DIDNT TELL HER". and we're all kind of standing there like what the hell? so she goes away and i think i am done. not so much, to my chagrin. like 20 minutes later, i am talking with a customer who i do not particularly LIKE but he's a regular so whatever. anyway, we're discussing something mundane, when i hear that voice yelling behind him "and whatever the PPD thinks i am crazy cause when the cops came to my house i started screaming at them blah blah blah" and i couldnt even see her cause the other customer was blocking her but i just opened my eyes REALLY  wide. and the guy i was talking to started laughing and was like "well, looks like we had the same thought" so he steps away and lets me as her "Hi, can i help you with anything?" (all bright, loud and cheery, because she's the twat on her cell phone), and she nastily says "YEAH. you CAN. give me a box of newports" and i'm like...wow bitch. knock it off. so i go to tell her the total, and she cuts me off (well. not really me) and says to who ever is on the other side of her phone call " god, i can;t even talk on the phone in this store without people giving me dirty looks" and then SHOOTS me a look! hahaha WHAT! so i told ehr to have a nice day and she just screams WHATEVER at me and snaches the reciept out of my hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i like, lost  it. this woman was beyonnnnnnnnnnnnd! who does that! haha i am like shocked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;let this be a lesson, don't talk on your cell phone like a retard. just sayin.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7666563495847155540-7804432229125107755?l=pricecheckplz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/feeds/7804432229125107755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7666563495847155540&amp;postID=7804432229125107755' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/7804432229125107755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/7804432229125107755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/2009/01/cell-phone-etiquitte-is-it-really-that.html' title='cell phone etiquitte. is it REALLY that hard to follow?'/><author><name>Miss M.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11843612770792301774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U4_l5eDN4x8/SM29oM6bJOI/AAAAAAAAAAc/JezjjSFqIXg/S220/Photo+393.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7666563495847155540.post-4825766940354368558</id><published>2008-11-24T21:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-24T21:28:17.763-08:00</updated><title type='text'>bits and pieces</title><content type='html'>as the holiday season approaches, i feel like i am going to tear my hair out. the crazies have been out in full force. our store is a bit on the understaffed side, so people....we are getting you out as fast as possible. i know it's 5:30 and you have to cook dinner, but if it's so damn important, buy your dinner wares, then come back and do the big grocery shopping at 8 pm, when there is next to no one in the store. just saying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and SPEAKING OF CRAZIES....the glove lady was back for round two. and i am ashamed to say that she won i think. FML&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she came in saturday and n., c., and i were at the service desk. and of course, being the mature employees that we are, we promptly start sniffling and coughing, which sends her into a tizzy. "DO YOU HAVE COLDS?! I CANT GET SICK MY NEIGHBORS ARE DYING* I NEED A RAINCHECK FOR ICE CREAM!!!" c. managed to convince her that her cold was the least contagious, and starts to write out the raincheck. (ps. the bitch even asked if she could ahve it for multiple flavors. the answer is always NO, lady, one per person!!))  i swear to god, it looked like a light bulb went over n. head, and she bolted to the freezer aisle. and comes back with the exact flavor she claimed we were out of. c. and n. tracked her down in aisle 11. c. then tried to get her to relinquish the raincheck, cause wtf we have the item in stock!!! glovies response? "oh, ill just use it for neopolitan, you didn't have that flavor, either." so n. and c. DUG through the freezer and found a carton of neopolitan. BUT SHE SNUCK OUT THE DOOR BEFORE WE COULD GET IT TO HER. FOILED AGAINNNNNNNNNNNN.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh. and close talkers. are you EFFIN kidding me with this nonsense? it happens all the time, but today took the cake. i had to put something back on the shelf in the back of the store, so i'm heading back up aisle 12 and i step out, and all of a sudden, there is a lady in my face. when i say she was like an inch from me, i am not even exaggerating. "CAN YOU TELL ME WHERE THE AMERICAN CHEESE FOR BAKING IS?" (whoa lady. quit yelling in my face. and have a tic tac. oof) i respond with (rightful on my part) confusion, saying "...american cheese for baking? like...velveeta?!" and since it is my fault i don't know what she needs for her seemingly white-trash casserole, she was all like "is it in the dairy aisle or what?!" "ma'am, i have no idea what you are talking aboutt. american cheese is in 14..." then she cut me off and said "oh, i need cream cheese". my brain exploded. holy crap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh and don't worry. it &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;was&lt;/span&gt; me that decided not to run a free turkey promotion, so feel free to shit all over me about it, ladies and gents. i made the flyer and everything! OOF.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;happy turkey week. and i AM working on thursday, so i bet i will have a great (hungover) story for you all friday am. xoxo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*(her neighbors are dying? what the hell is this bitch smoking? really??)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7666563495847155540-4825766940354368558?l=pricecheckplz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/feeds/4825766940354368558/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7666563495847155540&amp;postID=4825766940354368558' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/4825766940354368558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/4825766940354368558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/2008/11/bits-and-pieces.html' title='bits and pieces'/><author><name>Miss M.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11843612770792301774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U4_l5eDN4x8/SM29oM6bJOI/AAAAAAAAAAc/JezjjSFqIXg/S220/Photo+393.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7666563495847155540.post-3137243351025543404</id><published>2008-11-14T20:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-14T20:42:41.317-08:00</updated><title type='text'>let me pose a question to you all...</title><content type='html'>is it really terrible of me to think of more things to annoy the glove lady with?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because i was thinking of taking an article about antibiotic resistant bacteria and putting it in a plastic bag and including it with her groceries. i can't figure out how to pull it off, but i keep giggling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh and i want to steal petri dishes of bacteria that i have cultured.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or just talk about working in a biology lab. with microbes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok  that's just really really mean, i am sorry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7666563495847155540-3137243351025543404?l=pricecheckplz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/feeds/3137243351025543404/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7666563495847155540&amp;postID=3137243351025543404' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/3137243351025543404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/3137243351025543404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/2008/11/let-me-pose-question-to-you-all.html' title='let me pose a question to you all...'/><author><name>Miss M.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11843612770792301774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U4_l5eDN4x8/SM29oM6bJOI/AAAAAAAAAAc/JezjjSFqIXg/S220/Photo+393.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7666563495847155540.post-5179401695535294164</id><published>2008-11-10T19:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T13:22:39.153-08:00</updated><title type='text'>this is a nice post. really! it is!</title><content type='html'>let's face it...usually i am nothing more than a snarky bitch who wants to complain about everything. but i  was thinking earlier that due to the fact that tomorrow is veterans day, i'm going to discuss the phenomenon called "veteran's wednesday".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when i first started working at the store i work at now, i was warned about something called "veteran's wednesday". it's the time on every wednesday when the bus from the veteran's home in the town comes and brings all the vet's in to buy stuff and, most importantly play the lottery. people were warning me like it was some big, terrible thing. and yeah, when they come, it's busy and of coruse we all grumble about it. however, it's not terrible at all. these guys did a great thing for our country, and they're all great guys, however grumpy they might be. these guys are the only customers that can get away with being surly to me. i swear to god. i have too much respect for veterans to give a shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's always the same guys that come it. there's the guy who lost his legs that buys like a gazillion lottery tickets. he's one of the surlier guys, but lets face it, i would be too. but we've been getting him to smile lately, which makes me feel so much better. there's several other guys too. but my absolute favorite guy that comes in...he's just the best. he's a former Marine who's got a bunch of faded, blurry USMC tattoos on his forearms, and is just the sweetest man alive. he's quiet and softspoken and never has a harsh word for anyone. i just want to hug him all the time.  best dudes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok so this post didn't turn out as epic as i hoped it would, mostly because i am rushing through it. i guess what i;m trying to say is thank a veteran tomorrow. just sayin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thank you for your time hahahaha&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7666563495847155540-5179401695535294164?l=pricecheckplz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/feeds/5179401695535294164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7666563495847155540&amp;postID=5179401695535294164' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/5179401695535294164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/5179401695535294164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/2008/11/this-is-nice-post-really-it-is.html' title='this is a nice post. really! it is!'/><author><name>Miss M.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11843612770792301774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U4_l5eDN4x8/SM29oM6bJOI/AAAAAAAAAAc/JezjjSFqIXg/S220/Photo+393.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7666563495847155540.post-1860073591543646052</id><published>2008-11-03T20:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T22:03:42.643-08:00</updated><title type='text'>stupid bitch has made it personal now!</title><content type='html'>ok. so this has  gone on for far too long, so long that i feel it cannot be ignored any longer. i am, of course, talking about the glove lady. she is a local crazy that shops at my store. this woman is constantly causing a scene, and trying to scam us for multiple rainchecks, among other things. she is cuckoo-bananas, absolutely bat-shit crazy. she is one of those insane germaphobes who wears rubber gloves and never lets us touch her items to scan them. she has apparently given people several different reasons as to why she wears these gloves. one of the most recent, and my personal favorite, is that "someone in my building has AIDS and i don't want to catch it. oh and my downstairs neighbor is a stripper." SOMEONE NEEDS TO SET THIS BITCH STRAIGHT ABOUT THE TRANSMISSION OF HIV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, a few weeks ago, she tried to weasel 3 rainchecks out of me (each for a separate flavor of ice cream. piss. off. lady. one raincheck per person.). she managed to finagle another one out of D., because glove lady was still in the store when the shift changed. i decided to no longer put up with her bull shit. her bullshit has since spawned such notes as this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v488/LilBlueDucky/gloveladynote.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 800px; height: 600px;" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v488/LilBlueDucky/gloveladynote.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am so classy at writing notes, i know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, i've taken to sniffling and developing a hacking cough whenever i see her coming on my line for customer service. haha SO MATURE. so last week, i had an unusually long line at the service desk and i'm plowing through it. i see her then hop on the line, then acutally try to cut in front of people. so i made a big ole production of coughing and sniffling. of course, glovie's disease radar picked right up on it and was she screams (she never speaks. just yells. loudly.) "oh NO are you SICK!?!?!" and i could barely supress my laughter as i replied "oh yeah, i must be coming down with something". her eyes bugged right out of her skull and she pretty much shrieked "OMG I NEED A RAIN CHECK BUT I DONT WANT TO RISK IT!" at this point, i almost lost it . i later learned that she cornered L. and made her write a raincheck because she suspected that i was "highly contagious".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ordinarily, i would not actually make fun of people like this. i mean, she obviously has a problem. but yesterday, this lady stepped over the line, and it became personal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Glove lady sauntered up to my counter, completely oblivious to the fact that i was helping a customer and tried to interrupt. annoyingggggggggg. so i told her that she had to wait her turn. When this glorious time arrived, she let me know (loudly, of course) that her bread was as hard as a rock and that she was gonna get another one. fine, whatever. she then returned with her bread. and a thing of soup that she wanted to pay for at the desk. but here's the catch. she threw money at me and wouldn't let me touch her soup to ring up. when i tried to take it from her (force of habit i guess), she freaked out and was like "OH NO YOU DONT YOU KNOW I HAVE SENSATIVITIES!" so...i tried to move the (somewhat) broken hand scanner. and it wouldn't ring up her thing. and when i kindly told her she'd have to go to a register cause it wasn't working, she stalked off muttering under her breath. where she met B. from produce. and promptly wasted no time telling that "SHE SHOULDNT OPEN HER MOUTH CAUSE SHE HAS TB. I KNOW CAUSE MY DOCTOR TOLD ME SHE DID"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wait wait wait. i have tuburculosis...and i'm working at stop and shop. yes. yes, thats right. i lost it. 110% lost it. i'm still laughing about it. a lot. jesus christ.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WAIT THATS NOT ALL. the next day, i walk into work, and N. is hysterical. because apparently, glovie came in screaming about how she feels threatened (or something) because our cart guy, S., has TB as well. OMFG GUYS ITS AN EPIDEMIC! QUICK! START HANDING OUT THOSE SARS MASKS AT THE DOOR!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i can't even. like, there must be something in the water around here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7666563495847155540-1860073591543646052?l=pricecheckplz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/feeds/1860073591543646052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7666563495847155540&amp;postID=1860073591543646052' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/1860073591543646052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/1860073591543646052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/2008/11/stupid-bitch-has-made-it-personal-now.html' title='stupid bitch has made it personal now!'/><author><name>Miss M.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11843612770792301774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U4_l5eDN4x8/SM29oM6bJOI/AAAAAAAAAAc/JezjjSFqIXg/S220/Photo+393.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7666563495847155540.post-6109206236982332356</id><published>2008-10-26T19:35:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-26T22:45:59.190-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the nicer i am to people, the meaner they are.</title><content type='html'>so last night, it was disgustingly busy at work. because, apparently a little bit of rain means that the apocalypse is coming and people need to stock up on canned foods for their fall out shelter, and plenty of milk and bread to tide them over. so our power kept flickering and 90% of the people coming into the store were in a foul mood. i, on the otherhand, was not. i was closing with one of my favorite people, N., and nights i close with her are always a laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so amongst the cranky elite was this lady who will be referred to as the wine lady from now on. i had just heated up my dinner, and N. was at the desk helping out these people sending a western union. fine. so the wine lady comes up, and i ask her what she needs help with. and as soon as she opened her mouth, i was like "...". the following is the exchange between the two of us:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wine Lady: "excuse me  but what is your policy regarding things that scan wrong?"&lt;br /&gt;Me: "well what was it that scanned incorrectly?"&lt;br /&gt;WL: (she kind of gave me a withering look, which kind of perplexed me) "well, this bottle of wine is marked 8.99 but it is ringing up at 9.49..."&lt;br /&gt;me: "well, because it is wine, i am only allowed by law to give you back the difference in prices, as opposed to our policy regarding the regular items, which is you would get it for free"&lt;br /&gt;WL: "oh."&lt;br /&gt;Me: "ma'am i just need to see the wine please. thank you"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so  at this point i have the bottle in question in my possession. i am filling out the form that's needed for this type of situation, and N. leans over and is like "you know you can only give her the difference right" (cause she had missed my explaination). to which i responded "yeah i already let her know that was the deal". and continued on, ringing up her refund.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "here you go ma'am 54 cents. have a nice day"&lt;br /&gt;WL: "thanks...and WHAT was your name again?"&lt;br /&gt;Me: "...m. why was there a problem?"&lt;br /&gt;WL: "your ATTITUDE was the only problem." while her goofy ass husband laughs in the background.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my jaw dropped. like there was absolutely nothing attitude-y  about my exchange with her, i was insanely pleasant. and N. just looks at me with the same expression and goes "what the FUCK just happened? like...how was that even a viable response to you!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i seriously don't get it. several of my coworkers have said to me that i am acutally TOO nice and people take it as me being all fake nice and what not. what the fuck ever. i am just gonna start being horrible to people. and i mean it. GRRRR see i'm tough and mean! YEAH!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7666563495847155540-6109206236982332356?l=pricecheckplz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/feeds/6109206236982332356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7666563495847155540&amp;postID=6109206236982332356' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/6109206236982332356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/6109206236982332356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/2008/10/nicer-i-am-to-people-meaner-they-are.html' title='the nicer i am to people, the meaner they are.'/><author><name>Miss M.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11843612770792301774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U4_l5eDN4x8/SM29oM6bJOI/AAAAAAAAAAc/JezjjSFqIXg/S220/Photo+393.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7666563495847155540.post-5043519384840992829</id><published>2008-10-22T21:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T22:06:41.891-07:00</updated><title type='text'>would you like a leech for some bloodletting instead?</title><content type='html'>so like a week ago, i'm standing at the customer service counter. as always. honestly, i forget who was up there with me, but if they read this then they can back me up on the weirdoness that was this woman. i feel like it was D. but i could be wrong wrong wrong. and this woman with her brood of scarily blonde children comes up to me. and she looks agitated. quite frankly, i assume it had something to do with the fact she was boggled down with the children of the corn, so i decided to be extra nice to her. i mean, its not MY fault she doesn't know the value of a good perscription from her OB/GYN....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;regardless. i very nicely ask her how i could help her, and she promply starts complaining that her son got a scrape from something sticking out from the bottom of one of our aisles.. ok fine. thats not good. so i apologize up one side and down the other, asking if she'd like to speak to a manager, asking if she needs anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"well. can i have a BAND-AID?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thinking to myself "theres no need to get snippy with me...", but i replied with "do you want some neosporin too?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and she's all "obviously."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so i rip a band-aid out of the STERILE band-aid book, grab the neosporin, and hand it to her, still apologizing, god knows why at this point. APPARENTLY this wasn't good enough...because...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"don't you have any band-aids that aren't 50 years old?" and my jaw just dropped. i'm relatively sure that i ever said "WHAT?!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;her response was something along these lines "this band-aid. it's OLD" when in fact, i took it out of a band new box of sterile band-aids. it was the first to be taken out of pack, too. which i showed her. and she then proceeds to ask:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"well, don't you have a first aid kit?" no lady. we actually have a drawer full of first aid items&lt;br /&gt;, but not an actual box labeled "first aid kit" with a big ole red cross on it. which i told her, in less words. she huffed at me, opened the band aid and then calls me back over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"why is it LIKE this?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"like what?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"with these HOLES in it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"...seriously? they are so the wound can breathe?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"i have NEVER seen band-aids with holes in them before. are you SURE you don't have any other ones?" at which point, her oldest, who was obviously the black sheep in the family due to her reddish hair pipes up "MOMMY THE BAND-AIDS AT SCHOOL ALL HAVE HOLES IN THEM!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i actually snorted with laughter. i wanted to high-five this little girl. she was my hero. her mom then nastily told her to pipe down, huffed, puffed, and put the band-aid back on her son and walked away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then i retreated into the cash office where i started laughing so hard i couldn't stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;seriously. "why are there holes in this band-aid?" jesus effin christ.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;another day in paradise, ladies and gents.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7666563495847155540-5043519384840992829?l=pricecheckplz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/feeds/5043519384840992829/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7666563495847155540&amp;postID=5043519384840992829' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/5043519384840992829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/5043519384840992829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/2008/10/would-you-like-leech-for-some.html' title='would you like a leech for some bloodletting instead?'/><author><name>Miss M.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11843612770792301774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U4_l5eDN4x8/SM29oM6bJOI/AAAAAAAAAAc/JezjjSFqIXg/S220/Photo+393.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7666563495847155540.post-6278762191754325455</id><published>2008-10-14T13:12:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-14T13:13:23.054-07:00</updated><title type='text'>OK</title><content type='html'>sorry, i am so effin busy with school and (lol) work, that i haven't really had a chance to update. however, i have a few things up my sleeve after my exams this week and next are done :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;STAY TUNED!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7666563495847155540-6278762191754325455?l=pricecheckplz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/feeds/6278762191754325455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7666563495847155540&amp;postID=6278762191754325455' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/6278762191754325455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/6278762191754325455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/2008/10/ok.html' title='OK'/><author><name>Miss M.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11843612770792301774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U4_l5eDN4x8/SM29oM6bJOI/AAAAAAAAAAc/JezjjSFqIXg/S220/Photo+393.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7666563495847155540.post-7801685467065797319</id><published>2008-09-14T18:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-14T18:56:14.026-07:00</updated><title type='text'>some general musings...</title><content type='html'>thank you to the old man who bought me a lottery ticket tonight, you were very nice. however i would've liked a glass of the wine you were buying. hahaha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a big ole screw you to the old man who called me mean. not because i was mean or anything, but because i told you the service desk wasn't a register...i mean, that would've been totally dick of me to kick you out if it was busy, but you walked right up to whoever was on register 3 and payed. go to hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hey lady, don't come in at 8:55 and get a cart. you're risking running into the wrath of my friend and i. we'll cut you, cause you SO don't need to be buying a zillion dollars of groceries at that point in the night. you should've planned your weekend better, BITCH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh, and why the hell was it so busy today? shouldn't you people be watching football? if you have a TV there's at LEAST 4 games on, so watch em. and get out of my store. cause let's face it. i would be sitting, drinking beer, and watching football, if i didn't have to be at the godforsaken grocery store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;UGHHHHHHHH&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;today sucked. wahhhhhhhhhh&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7666563495847155540-7801685467065797319?l=pricecheckplz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/feeds/7801685467065797319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7666563495847155540&amp;postID=7801685467065797319' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/7801685467065797319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/7801685467065797319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/2008/09/some-general-musings.html' title='some general musings...'/><author><name>Miss M.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11843612770792301774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U4_l5eDN4x8/SM29oM6bJOI/AAAAAAAAAAc/JezjjSFqIXg/S220/Photo+393.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7666563495847155540.post-7196112190288503950</id><published>2008-09-07T18:50:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-07T19:38:34.179-07:00</updated><title type='text'>omfg patience!</title><content type='html'>i've had this one written out, but i hadn't typed it out or anything. so bear with the "this mornings" and what not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok. so. running the front end and manning the customer service counter for as long as i have has given me the fan-flippin-tastic ability to witness some of the most idiotic and impatient people. some of my favorites involve people who don't like to wait in line&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;just this morning, out of three regular registers (the other open register was designated as an express lane), i got to see a woman switch lines 6 times. SIX. AS IN ONE MORE THAN FIVE. had she picked one and stayed with it, i am willing to garauntee that she would have flew through the line. i mean, for the love of christ, did she not attend pre-school or something? i mean, one of the first effin things you learn in pre-k is the importance of waiting yr turn. i guess she was absent that day....&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;this is sort of in the same vein, but bear  with me here. one of the worst things ever is those people that have one single person in front of them, and they roll their eyes and sigh audibly, all while giving me (or whoever is running the front end) nasty-ass looks for the duration of their minute and a half spent on line. even better, is when these people have the balls to ask us to open when its not busy.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;"don't you have any more cashiers?!" "um, i'm sorry, no  i do not...?" "what about you, can i pay here?" (side note. this occurs when i am standing at the podium. there is not REGISTER at the podium. am i supposed to conjure one out of thin air?) "ma'am/sir/transvestite, i apologize, but i am not a cashier right now ::winning smile::" i mean. people can clearly see that my station isn't a register, and that i am most likely smack in the middle of paper work, or filling out pickup bags, or like...i don't even know figuring out when to send people on break. all of this be cause theyre is one person in front of them. LOVE ITTTTTTT&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;in this vein---my little managers area thing is not a register people. i can't check prices for you, i can't make change for you, and no, you can't pay for your 1/2 pound of sliced roast turkey here either.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;also, to the lady who argued with me tonight of 30 cents, you're a twat. you're the one who wanted a more expensive replacement. i didn't tell you to choose that one. fuck off.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7666563495847155540-7196112190288503950?l=pricecheckplz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/feeds/7196112190288503950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7666563495847155540&amp;postID=7196112190288503950' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/7196112190288503950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/7196112190288503950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/2008/09/omfg-patience.html' title='omfg patience!'/><author><name>Miss M.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11843612770792301774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U4_l5eDN4x8/SM29oM6bJOI/AAAAAAAAAAc/JezjjSFqIXg/S220/Photo+393.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7666563495847155540.post-3544930066392847000</id><published>2008-08-17T17:01:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-17T17:21:50.653-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorry for the delay</title><content type='html'>*gasp* i've actually had some semblance of a social life. omg!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so i've decided to focus on the  lottery lady today. this woman...she has a problem. so i feel slightly bad that i'm subjecting her to a description in my blog. but the other night, i was ready to lose it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok. so this lady always comes in with her husband. they grab two carts, and then he does the shopping, while she sits at the machine and plays scratch offs. like...incessantly. it used to be worse, because we used to have the scratch off's behind the counter and she would stand there, and talk and talk and scratch and scratch and it just was terrible. it's still pretty awful, cause she will hand you like, 400 tickets to check, all while subjecting you to this boring, totally stupid diatribe about ANYTHINGGGGGG.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;usually i can put up with it.  but the other night i just couldn't even take it. she came in at like, 20 minutes before we close. once again, usually i can handle it, but i had to buy groceries. and the only time i get to do it is at the end of my shift. usually, what i do is grab a few things, and run it back to the desk, check if anyones there, then keep shopping. fine. but she was getting almost nasty with me. i'm sorry, but i have shit that needs to be done at the end of my shift in the desk. it's nothing super important, but regardless, it has to get done. and couple that with the fact i had to buy a few things (the severe dearth of slightly healthy food in my house was disgusting), i was just trying to get stuff done. would have been able too, had she not been in there annoying the HELL out of me. and then for her to get nasty (which she almost never does), i was like UGH GET AWAY FROM MEEEEE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thank god that we closed, and she had to go home. lol&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7666563495847155540-3544930066392847000?l=pricecheckplz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/feeds/3544930066392847000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7666563495847155540&amp;postID=3544930066392847000' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/3544930066392847000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/3544930066392847000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/2008/08/sorry-for-delay.html' title='Sorry for the delay'/><author><name>Miss M.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11843612770792301774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U4_l5eDN4x8/SM29oM6bJOI/AAAAAAAAAAc/JezjjSFqIXg/S220/Photo+393.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7666563495847155540.post-4062783153880515437</id><published>2008-08-06T07:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-06T09:15:27.144-07:00</updated><title type='text'>there's no such thing as a free lunch</title><content type='html'>...but there is if you nick it off our shelves!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;shoplifters. every kid goes through it, do they not? i mean...what 14 year old girl &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; steal makeup from the local drugstore? but whatever. i'm not talking about the run of the mill, young teenage shoplifters. i'm talking about crazy people who just steal things and return them for money. a TON of people do this. there's  the meat lady (who will get her own entry, i assure you. she's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; good), the drunk shoplifter, and my personal favorite...the razor guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this guy...ok. he's come into the store before, and he creeped me out before i realized his gig. then, one afternoon he bought a pack of cigs from me and left. nooooo big deal. however, i get a phonecall later that night from another of of local stores saying "there's a guy who is trying to return razor blades and we have a very strong suspicion that he stole them. he has no receipt, don't do the return!". so i let my manager know, and she was like "come on m., you know the policy. you have to issue it". so i do. fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;like, a week later, discussing it with my store manager, as well as the assistant manager (the one who told me i had to do the return), and we came to the conclusion that there are exceptions to the rule. fine. later that night, the guy comes in again. i saw him as i was running to get a price check for a customer, with a basket full of stuff. turns out, he's walking to my desk, and is there when i return. he asks me for the results of the past weekends big lottery, and i give it to him. i promptly walk to the frozen aisle, let my manager know he's in here and maybe she'll want to keep an eye on him. she followed me back to the desk, where i notice him packing up the shit that was in his basket with bags he filched off the registers...and starting to walk out the door. i was like "N. wtf...he didn't pay for annnnny of that!" she followed him out. and threatened to call  the cops. OH. and he attempted to steal like 76$ worth of shit, including a bottle of jameson 12 yr. WTF&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and hes nasty. like.. wtf. i hate this  guy. maybe cause i am full of rage today. hah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;no work since monday. life is good, eh?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7666563495847155540-4062783153880515437?l=pricecheckplz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/feeds/4062783153880515437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7666563495847155540&amp;postID=4062783153880515437' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/4062783153880515437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/4062783153880515437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/2008/08/theres-no-such-thing-as-free-lunch.html' title='there&apos;s no such thing as a free lunch'/><author><name>Miss M.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11843612770792301774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U4_l5eDN4x8/SM29oM6bJOI/AAAAAAAAAAc/JezjjSFqIXg/S220/Photo+393.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7666563495847155540.post-6240816055777622674</id><published>2008-07-31T07:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-31T07:43:27.020-07:00</updated><title type='text'>how do you leave behind groceries?</title><content type='html'>ok. since i started doing the service desk, part of my responsibility has been to log and put away left behind groceries. this has, and always will, boggle my fucking mind. i understand if you are in a rush, i guess but even then, leaving behind a bag of groceries just makes no sense to me. i've had some stellar run-in's with people who were dumb enough to forget stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;recently, the front end manager brought up a gigantic bag of groceries. there were like, 4 frozen boxes of vegetables, some rice mixes, a bag of baby carrots, a cucumber, and some other veggie item. my eyes definitely bugged out of my head, due to the sheer size of this left behind. you have to be dumb or blind to forget something of this magnitude. so, i write it down, and just as i'm going to put the frozen stuff back on the shelf, the phone rings. i pick it up, answer accordingly, and all of a sudden i get:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"did i leave a bag of groceries?"&lt;br /&gt;"was it veggies, rice, etc...?"&lt;br /&gt;"YES. UGH"&lt;br /&gt;"oh! it's right here i was just about to put it back on the shelf"&lt;br /&gt;"WHY would you do that?"&lt;br /&gt;"because...it's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;frozen&lt;/span&gt; and needs to go back on the shelf"&lt;br /&gt;"ugh. whatever. its not like i'm coming back for it now anyway"&lt;br /&gt;(right here i paused and thought to myself: 'then what the fuck is the big deal if i put it back on the shelf or not, crazy?')&lt;br /&gt;"well, when you're ready or available to come pick it up, i wrote it down in the book, so just bring your receipt back and we'll gladly replace it for you."&lt;br /&gt;"but i &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;threw out&lt;/span&gt; my reciept"&lt;br /&gt;"then jut say you spoke to me. my name's miss m."&lt;br /&gt;"FINE. BYE"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;really? i don't get it. you're the idiot who forgot a gigantic bag of groceries. not only that, i'm telling you that there's not going to be any sort of problem getting your groceries back. at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just another day in paradise, ladies and gentlemen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7666563495847155540-6240816055777622674?l=pricecheckplz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/feeds/6240816055777622674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7666563495847155540&amp;postID=6240816055777622674' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/6240816055777622674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/6240816055777622674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/2008/07/how-do-you-leave-behind-groceries.html' title='how do you leave behind groceries?'/><author><name>Miss M.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11843612770792301774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U4_l5eDN4x8/SM29oM6bJOI/AAAAAAAAAAc/JezjjSFqIXg/S220/Photo+393.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7666563495847155540.post-7602445355482977560</id><published>2008-07-29T07:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-29T07:29:46.075-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"can i pay for this here?"</title><content type='html'>originally, my topic for today was going to be about left-behind orders, because they boggle my mind. however, events that transpired last night during my shift forced me to alter my ideas. read on...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok. so i have been working at the customer service counter since i was 18 years old. i love it. 98% of the time that is. the service counter exists for price checks, lottery, cigarettes, returns, and general complaints (that are usually (somehow) my fault). it's not really a register. yeah. if its busy, i'll take someone, not a big deal. if you have an item or two and you're buying cigs, then yeah, cool by all means. but don't arbitrarily decide that you can't walk the extra 30 feet to the registers because you want to pay for your milk there. odds are, you're going to have to pass the registers &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anyway&lt;/span&gt;, due to the fact you probably parked on that side of the store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now. i've had people actually force items on me. but last night may have taken the cake. so it's busy at my desk, but not on the actual registers. this man comes up with hi two kids, and an armful of stuff. oh. and i'm in the middle of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;my&lt;/span&gt; dinner (we don't actually get breaks. hmph). the transaction went as follows:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man: can i pay for this here?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Sir, this really isn't a register, and there are people waiting for cigarettes and lottery behind you...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man: well. fine. what if i buy a lottery ticket? will you let me pay for it then?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me (deciding its probably not worth even trying to argue with this jackass): uh. fine. whatever. do you have your card?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man: No. slide one for me. man, that was easy, you're quite the pushover. haha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: *supersarcastically* Yeah. i'm SUCHHHH a pushover. i just didn't want to argue with you. your total is $15.79.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man (goes to hand me a credit card.): here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you &lt;/span&gt;have to slide it...ok hit the yes button please. Sign Here please. What kind of lotter ticket did you want?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man: oh none. that was just so i could pay here so i didnt have to wait on line. (walks away)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ARE YOU SERIOUS?! how do i attract these people? what a douchebag. i almost lost it and followed him out of the store. what kind of person is that much of an asshole?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;good news. i'm off for the rest of the week,  minivacation this weekend. but dont you worry. i have some general rantings to let loose on you, my adoring readers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ps-i would like to thank kimmy for coming up with the name of this blog. she rules&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7666563495847155540-7602445355482977560?l=pricecheckplz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/feeds/7602445355482977560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7666563495847155540&amp;postID=7602445355482977560' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/7602445355482977560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/7602445355482977560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/2008/07/can-i-pay-for-this-here.html' title='&quot;can i pay for this here?&quot;'/><author><name>Miss M.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11843612770792301774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U4_l5eDN4x8/SM29oM6bJOI/AAAAAAAAAAc/JezjjSFqIXg/S220/Photo+393.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7666563495847155540.post-3649012259800459278</id><published>2008-07-28T10:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-28T10:56:19.831-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the beginning</title><content type='html'>alright. i was kind of inspired by my mom's idea that i should write a book about my (mis)adventures working in grocery stores for what seems to be the last 8 or so years of my life. (i say 'or so', because there actually was a gap from when i was 19-almost 21 where i worked as a hostess at a cheap-o steakhouse chain. but that's a whole other barrel of monkeys.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;while i understand that my foray into the world of supermarket chains is only a means to an end (i graduate in january. fucking FINALLY.), they have inevitably been a big part of my life since i was approximately 15 years old. and that means that the incredible idiots, assholes, and occasional nice person have been part of my life as well. i intend to document the final months of my supermarket career here in this fantastic blog. get used to lots of bitching and snarkyness, some bad jokes, and incredibly foul language.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you have been warned.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7666563495847155540-3649012259800459278?l=pricecheckplz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/feeds/3649012259800459278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7666563495847155540&amp;postID=3649012259800459278' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/3649012259800459278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7666563495847155540/posts/default/3649012259800459278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pricecheckplz.blogspot.com/2008/07/beginning.html' title='the beginning'/><author><name>Miss M.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11843612770792301774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U4_l5eDN4x8/SM29oM6bJOI/AAAAAAAAAAc/JezjjSFqIXg/S220/Photo+393.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
