"Sanitize your hands please."

Blog note: Sorry for all the posts about work. I haven't started school yet so I haven't had anything else more interesting happening to me.

"Excuse me?"

"Yes?" I reply, I just finished restocking tins of cashews and got up hearing the sound of a customer.

"Do you have hand sanitizer?" a short, freckle faced woman snorted with a few items in her hands.

"Oh, yeah, it's down aisle 3, all the way at the end, we also--"

"No." she cut me off like I was an idiot babbling on about how the sky ought to be peach scented.

"Do you have sanitizer for yourself?"

"What?"

"You've been handling money and things all day. Your hands must be covered in germs. Please sanitize your hands before you ring up my things."

Now, I've never had this happen before. I believe I am a pretty clean person. I carry hand sanitizer around in my purse, I wash my hands for a full minute after relieving myself, and I have been known for having the compulsive urge to buy lemongrass scented shampoo. And damn it, I sanitize my hands very often with GermX when I'm at work.

As I fought the urge to shove my germ infested fingers into her nose, I pump some of the heavy rubbing alcohol scented liquid into my hands and tell the woman I'm ready to ring up her things.

She looks at me like I had just put my hands in a toilet bowl to get them wet, and replies,

"Can't I just ring them up myself?"

"No. I don't think--"

She ignores my comment and does so anyway. I try to stop her but she wraps her arm around the cash register to the little box that scans things. She ends up buying only one item because that's the only one I'd allow her to scan.

I open a plastic bag for her to drop her thing into and she ignores it and grabs her own. She refuses the receipt because I touched it and put my deadly disease ridden instruments (my hands) on it and leaves the store.

For a second I think, OH MY GOD, what's wrong with me?
Do I have a disease?
Did one of my body parts fall off without me knowing it?
or
Do I just smell bad?

I roll my eyes and sniff the air and smell the sweet scent of lemongrass and think, despite it all,

"Damn, I smell good today."

Adventures in Retail

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.

Anywho

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.

Black Friday has come to run me over

So, I work in retail.
If you work in retail, you too will feel the wrath of black friday. That is, if you're going to be working today.
Unfortunately, I do.

The store I cashier at is notorious for being out of stock on things. I must mentally prepare for having my head bitten off by middle aged women with their unwilling children in tow, knuckles white with coupons in their grasp, and angered by the mere mention of the words "out of stock".

Yeah, I'm going to get pummeled.

Black friday is actually a play off the term "black tuesday" from the 1929 stock market crash, seeing as black friday creates just as an intense and crazy experience.

I, on the other hand, like to call black friday, "angry-people-who-think-they-shouldn't-have-to pay-for-their-things fridays" because there are some customers who are that bitchy.

I would give anything to stay in bed with my boyfriend all morning.

Oh well. I can still dream.