So, this is my day.
I was a happy go lucky drugstore cashier, drinking my Monster energy drink, so my happy go luckiness was drug induced but none of the customers needed to know that.
This very snobby woman comes up to my register holding a very opened package of very squished cotton balls, she having a very unhappy look on her very stretched out ugly face.
"I'd like to return these."
"Was there something wrong?" I asked, caffeine coursing through my veins.
"Yes, these didn't work--"
I cut her off then, because I knew we'd have to throw them away anyway because she put her stretched out face all on them, and it's not like I could have fixed the cotton balls, and of course the main one, I DON'T CARE.
She looked at me expectantly, like I should ask her about her entire experience with the generic brand cotton balls. Were they just not soft enough? Were they just too scratchy? Were they not worth the 59 cents you paid for them?
I called for my manager and listened to the lady's story under my monster powered eaves dropping skills. She painted a picture of trying to use the ever so unuseful cotten balls to absorb water and how they would just fall to pieces at the very thought of water coming in contact with the fluffy white orbs.
I think she was trying to use the cotton balls to plug a small dam or build a giant cotton ball man, a super hero to fight acne and nail polish remover accidents.
I guess cotton balls are of the devil.