Malaprop McGrumpypants

I want to know if I have a shot or not.  Especially after this weekend.  I’m just fortunate that I work at a record store and not some high-end place.  Apple would have surely fired me by now.  I can be sarcastic and not get into trouble at a record store…well, not too much trouble. 

I got asked 7 times in the past 3 shifts about where the porn was.  My answers varied between, “Not here.” “The Internet.” “It’s not my job to track it.” and “People buy it.” Then there was one guy who had to have a conversation about how it wasn’t the only thing he came in for.  Like I give a shit about his sad life of needing Rosie Palm and her five sisters.  GAH! Why do ya’ll keep asking…just go creep and search and let me do my job of ignoring you.

Actually, I’m in charge of the ordering/stocking (etc) of posters and t-shirts, which needed purging and the woman at the headquarters is the cuntiest twat waffle the world has ever seen. She talks down to everyone, regardless of the situation or person. She cares not about first impressions.  She thinks she’s Queen Rasputina, the overlord of some multibillion dollar business.  Bitch, this ain’t Apple.  This isn’t Needless Markups (thanks for that one Emily).  You manage posters and t-shirts at a ratty, dirty chain of record stores where the only way we stay sane is to make fun of people like you, and drink and smoke (not me, but everyone there has some sort of dependency on something…even if it’s coffee).  What’s worse is that my manager is a puss and fears getting written up and told me to bow to her every whim to make life easier.  He doesn’t handle people above him very well, and I don’t take well to people who belittle me.

Finally, because the pressure in my head was gonna make a mess of everything, I had to tell the guy with the screaming kid to do something about it because it’s not a pleasant thing to listen to (actually I was rather polite about, despite wanting to burn the building down). He laughed, ‘cause, ya know, crying children is fucking hilarious,  and he said, “Well, what can you do?” Without inhaling I responded, “You can take him outside.” He told me he was never gonna shop there again.  Because, well his big would-be purchase of 8 VHS’s at $.50 a piece was gonna make or break the company.

OO I’m so mad, I could spit. Spit fire onto the faces of the people I have to deal with sometimes.

In conclusion, I’m ready to move on to something bigger: the internship.  So please call/email me soon.