Slimy spoons and douchey fades

I come in everyday early for my shift at a certain downtown grocery store, if not on time. You come in late, spewing random garbled profanity, looking as confused as a flock of sidewalk pigeons talking about how your ‘awesome new fade’ cost you sixty bucks. You see me running around you, scrambling to serve customers in a timely manner, trying my best with my small self to get work done, but you just stand there, wandering aimlessly, swinging your guerilla-arms. Doing. Nothing. You douche-bag. You’ve been here, what, three years? HOW!? You’re a slob, a giant man-child, leaving trails of disgusting crap in our work area and have NO skills dealing with customers. None. I cringe whenever I hear you babble to the poor unsuspecting soul that appears at our counter. Just give the girl her damn salad, she doesn’t care what you did this weekend, can’t you tell by the look of horror on her face and how she slowly walks away awkwardly? Tasks that take me five minutes take you five hours. God forbid I point out something idiotic you’ve done, you might burst into tears and tell on me. And then you have the balls to LIE and have me ‘volunteered’ to get me sent to a different counter because your incompetent self can’t handle the pressure of dealing with the lunch crowd? You’re a dumb shit. No one respects you, despite what you may think in that empty head of yours. You’re as incomprehensible as the slimy spoons you leave lying around. I don’t think I’m a bitch or have any maliciousness towards you, but I do have a ZERO-TOLERANCE for bullshit and other bullshit-like shenanigans and you, my friend, are full of it. —Hardworking No-Bullshit Bitch

This article appears in Dec 8-14, 2011.