Saturday, September 26, 2009

Dumb as a Doormat

Went to the local hardware/home supply store today to get a new welcome mat for the house. Now, it is not the week o' the month to be trying to have any sort of civil interpersonal dealings with me, so it's not that I want anyone to feel like I am welcoming you into my house. I just wanted a green one to match the shutters.

So.... MyPoolBoy and I are schlepping to the back of the store to procure the aforementioned welcome mat. I whine at him to carry it, and because he values his life and/or manhood parts, he obligingly carries it to the register for me. We get to the front and the dumb@ss inbred mf-ing stupid bi+ch at the check out inanely grins at me and says, "Oh *giggle giggle* there's not a scan code on it" I look at her. I look at MyPoolBoy. And? So I say, "well, they were 9-something" and StupidBi+ch says "Oh, *giggle giggle* I have to have the scan code."

Again... I look at her. I look at MyPoolBoy. And? At this point, really and truly, I figured she would take the hint and call someone in the flooring department to do a price check. Apparently she was getting a mani-pedi on the day they covered THAT part of the training. I mean, truly, it was not going to enter her petite little brain AT ALL.

That's when I decided to "become an advocate for my own customer service."

Let me reiterate a completely relevant point here: It is not the week o' the month to be trying to have any sort of civil interpersonal dealings with me, especially if you are a StupidBi+ch. And in my own defense, I had elected to enter the world of retail during the course of this week without the aid of Midol or vodka. For me, that's like doing stunts without a net. I honestly did not have, nor did I care to have, the patience to tutor this idiot on how to obtain a price-check. Instead, I stormed off to get another rug - one with a scan code so that StupidBi+ch could do her dayum job.

And I did my storming off NotQuietly, getting louder as I went so that my volume was adequately proportionate to the distance that StupidBi+ch was from me. OH SURE I GUESS I'LL JUST TRUDGE ALL THE WAY TO THE BACK OF YOUR STORE (stares from the guys looking at the lighting display) BECAUSE YOU CANNOT SEEM TO MUSTER THE CRANIAL ABILITY TO PICK UP YOUR LITTLE WALKIE TALKIE PHONE DEALIE AND (stares from the poor lady picking out paint samples in the paint department) CALL SOMEONE IN THE FLOORING DEPARTMENT (stares from the 2 guys working in the flooring department - which, incidentally, pissed me off worse to discover that there was more than sufficient staff on duty to have done the price check) TO FIND OUT THE PRICE OF A DAD-GUM FLOOR MAT! AND BY THE WAY IT IS NINE-SOMETHING!

I resisted the urge to pick up all the mats in the stack and haul them up front so that she'd be responsible for having them all hauled back. (Restraint. I do possess it.)

I dropped the everlovin' doormat on her counter on my way out of the door, remarking to MyPoorEmbarrassedDumbfoundedPoolBoy: "pay for it, I'll be in the truck."

I later confided to him that I harbor a deep loathing for stupid people, and this particular week, it meant he needed to keep anyone whose IQ is below mine out of my way.

He said he didn't think that information was a real big secret and besides he can't keep 98.8% of the population away from me.

Then he went and bought me stuff to shut me up. I *heart* him.

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