That Awful Day in Dallas.

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

Alls I Want is a Freaking Paper, People

Ladies. For the love of Christ. HAVE YOUR FUCKING MONEY READY AT THE COUNTER!!!! Whenever I'm in line to buy anything, I frantically have my money counted out and in my hand, ready to present to the guy before the word "cents" has left his lips. I always assume that if I take more than .0004 seconds to produce payment, the line of people behind me will not even try to hide their loud, exasperated sighs or uttered curse words. Or, maybe some guy comes in from the back and chops my head off, I don’t know. But chicks, chicks are always slightly surprised that the cashier, at the end of said transaction, expects actual money from them. No matter how long they've been in line, they have not even considered getting the money ready. "$16.81" the cashier will say, then there's a slight pause, then the girl will say "oh!" and THEN start digging thru her purse. Christ. AND, to make matters worse, she'll spend another 5 minutes digging around for a penny/nickel whatever to make the change "easier." "$16.81?" oh, hold on, I've got a penny...." and the search begins, so that instead of getting 19 cents back and letting the rest of us actually get on with our fucking lives, we've gotta sit through her frantic search for a penny so that she can get 2 dimes back. Guys don’t do that. We'll throw whatever bills we got up there; whatever change we get back, we get back. But we ain't standing there for 20 minutes rifling through a weeks worth of receipts from Vera Cruz and parking tickets trying to find change, holding up the line. Christ. Drives me crazy, maybe even more so than how everytime I wanna quickly pop in to grab a paper, there's only one other guy ahead of me....but it's the construction guy buying 75 coffees for the crew. "That’s 40 with sugar, 30 with milk, blaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh..." I've got my 2 quarters hovering above the counter, desperately trying to catch the cashier's eye so I can drop them and get back to becoming a better citizen/saving lives on the outside, but my man won't turn around, he's slowly making a million coffees for this one dude while blood actually starts pumping out of my ears. Fucking A. See also: lone cashier who patiently attends to the old lady who wants him to walk her through her 50 fucking lotto scratch tickets while the rest of us in line join AARP.