Retail of Terror! Part 1

One Quick Note: This Story Unfolds in a Bygone Era when I used to work for Tedeschi's, a local convenience store chain. This was about three summers ago, on the Cape where there's an odd and annoying mix of locals who desperately crave scratch tickets and Benson&Hedges cigarettes, and the occasional tourist who expects our crappy convenience store to be their cure all for whatever they happen to desire in the middle of the night. A Warning to All that Cannot Withstand the Stupidity of Most People: Turn Away or Else Suffer the Dire Consequences! You've been Forewarned!

A STORY FROM THE NIGHT SHIFT

A Lady came in and bought a quart of milk. She was a perfectly non-descript Suburban woman, replete with sweater and faded jeans. A curly bob on top of her head, she would seem completely in her element behind the table of a bake sale or else protesting something objectionable in a High School English class. Upon approaching the register she asked if she could ask me a question (an inane quandary that always annoys me considering that she is ALREADY asking me a question."

"Sure," says I, continuing to smile wide with my patented "welcome to Tedeschi's-shiteater" grin.

"Why is it so cold in here?" Her eyes bulged yet remained squinting like the eyes of a half-conscious sow, caught up in a dream about neverending slop.

"It's the Air Conditioner." A perfectly logical response, or so I thought.

"But why is it SO cold?" She demanded, "I mean, it's fucking FREEZING!"
("sorry")
"I just came from a dinner which was unpleasant because it was so cold."
("sorry")
"I mean why is it so cold? It's summer out, and it isn't even that warm outside."
("sorry...to be perfectly honest I don't make any decisions beyond the register.")

She grunted, furrowed her brow (which only made the porcine resemblance stronger), and snatched the penny from my hand with a lightening quick speed unseen by her save for the occasional (and unfortunate) Breakfast Burrito.
Storming out like a toddler concluding an argument with her parents, she called back from the safety of her Ford Taurus wagon:
"VERY UNPLEASANT!"

As soon as the glass door slid to a close, and the black cloud of hate closed around her, the 2 customers, who had hitherto remained quiet and shrunken like children witnessing a parental squabble, left in the store stared around in the awkward silence that ensued, eventually shattering it with laughter. The next woman in line looked at me and said, "If that's her only problem, she should consider herself fucking lucky."

As soon as I was by myself again, I started thinking:

1) The rise of the usage of the word "fuck" by the middle aged women that frequent our store. It should be monitored, and if escalates immensely, it should be addressed. (PLEASE CONTACT TEDESCHI'S HOME OFFICES BEFORE PROCEEDING WITH MY SUGGESTION AS I WOULD HATE TO GO AGAINST COMPANY PROTOCOL IN THIS MATTER.)

2)Most people don't want logical responses to something that is pissing them off. When they are emotional, a logical response is like a unwrapping a beautifully wrapped present and finding a twisted homemade sculpture inside. I should have answered in a more obscure or random manner, therefore providing her with a better outlet for her rage and a better anecdote to tell her friends at the next soccer game.

For Example:

WHY IS IT SO COLD?
--The Penguins hate it when it gets above -20, and they have my kid!
--We're under new Management...from Siberia.
--I'm burning up from all of the PCP I took earlier. ARE YOU A COP?
--I've found it helps preserve the corpses behind the counter....oops! Strike that.

And Finally....

3)The 2nd lady was right. If the temperature in your local convenience at 10 o'clock at night when your buying a quart of milk instead of living your life to its fullest is really your biggest concern,

then you are pretty fucking lucky.

NEXT: Part Two: Revenge of the Dyke-y Jewesses!