Fucking Stupid-Ass People

I hate to tell you guys, just past the Darwin Bicentennial, but Natural Selection has ceased to function, at least where human beings are concerned.

Tuesdays are usually slow. Tonight was no different, only it was a parade of freaks. I really appreciate the attention of the bums and panhandlers, many of whom show up simply to use me as a moneychanger. The ones who actually buy something (Heaven Hill Whisky and Thunderbird Red Label feature prominently)also pay in loose change, crumpled piss-smelling singles and pocket lint. The result tonight was that, in loose (unrolled) change, I counted $14.50 in quarters, $7.50 in dimes, $4.20 in nickels and $1.62 in pennies. You could have sewed that in a sack with a Mafia hit and dropped him in the Gulf: he would never have come up for air.

Then, there was the guy with the credit card that wouldn't work, so he left, and I had to void the purchase and then he came back and wanted to use the same card again (we had already run it four times) and I told him no, because if it didn't work the last four times it won't work now, and he got irate and so I said you know there's an ATM in the store and he finally came back with the cash after an hour or so of wrangling over this whole affair.

Then, there was the girl who bought butterscotch schnapps and Bailey's Irish Cream and then dropped it in the parking lot, so he had to come back and get more. For some unexplicable reason, she brought the dripping bag back into the store and set it on the floor, where it leaked Buttery Nipple all over the place, which I had to mop up. Why?

Got up yesterday and, lo, and behold, there was a money order from Bridget for $150. Yay. Only, I found out with the last one, that just about nobody in the universe will cash the bloody thing, especially my store, who issues them. The official policy is that they can only cash them if you have both the money order and the stub, you know: THE STUB THAT THE FUCKING SENDER SAVES FOR HIS RECORDS? So, today, Travis and I went to his bank, Chase, only one of the biggest, richest and most powerful banks in the fucking country, and they won't cash it, even if he has the money to cover it in his account. They won't even accept it as an item for deposit.

So, I try the Money Center at Wal-Mart, and they won't take it. So, I go around to all the check cashing places in the area. I hit three before I find one that handles this particular money order, and they cash it for me, only they charge me $5.88 to do it.

So, finally having got the fucking thing cashed, I go down to the little store and put $60 on my electric bill, which is $20 more than I owe them. I paid the bill in full last week, only to find that they had levied another $38 in charges against me, without telling me. I had to call them to find that out. They have one of those highly convoluted computerised phone systems which is designed primarily to frustrate you, so that you will give up and leave them alone. My electric had better be on by the time I get home, or I will fucking kill somebody. My total bill for last moth was $68; so why the hell do I have to pay them $275 in deposit? God, I hate Entergy!

I believe that Natural Selection no longer works. My solution to this is that those of us victimised by the stupid should band together and develop a plan to supplant Natural Selection. I have one idea: we market a bunch of dangerous things, the kind that are flashy and shiny, the kind that idiots crave. These devices would be inherently dangerous, so that if you didn't read the instructions, there would be a good chance you would either accidentally kill yourself or, failing that, at least sterilise yourself. Then, of course, you include a complex legal disclaimer, absolving your company of all responsibility if the product is not used properly. It will take a little cleverness to design products like this, but it can be done. Of course, the terminally stupid will NOT read the instructions, much less the disclaimer, and the product will be designed specifically so that an idiot will WANT to misuse it. Great idea, huh?

Oh, to dream ...

Work is Insane

At work, I spend time between the grocery side and the liquor side (which is separate). This week, I have spent most of my time on the liquor side of the store, which is quite different from the main store because of the nature of the, ahem, clientele. On the liquor side, for example, there is a much higher concentration of drunks, bums and thieves. It's true. At least 10% of the customers who come into the liquor side of the store are impaired in at least one sense of the word, and the percentage rises as the night goes on. I usually wind up closing, so I get to see it all.

The other night, I was working with another guy, a young black guy who is a student at LSU. We get along pretty well when we work together, and we don't usually have a lot of trouble, because a lot of the skanks that inhabit the area won't come in if we are working. So, it's like, mid-afternoon when we get the first indication that things might be interesting, wen one our co-workers, who was outside having a smoke, comes in to inform us that one of the locals walked up while he was smoking and peed on the soft drink machine. Of course, we all know this guy: I have turned him away because he was too incoherent to function. Also, another employee, a month or so ago, went into the store's public rest room and caught him in there, wanking. So, he was told not to come back, but he was so fucked up he probably won't remember so he'll be back eventually.

So, everything is going smoothly, and I am waiting on customers, when these two guys come in, each grab two 1.75l bottles of liquor, and run out the door. My buddy chases them out while I call for help, but they jump the fence and are gone before anyone can get to them, and, besides, we are not allowed to even try to apprehend them: we can get fired for it. So, we figure, as long as it's kind of slow, I'll stand behind the counter (which is impossibly long and it takes you too long to get around) and he'll just stand at the door and watch out.

Sure enough, he's not standing there for half an hour, when a customer comes up o the counter and buys cheap beer, and is on his way out the door when D. stops him and asks, "You want to give me that bottle you have in your pants?" They guy says, I don't know what you're talking about, but D. just says, "Well, just call the police, then," and he produces a bottle. "All of it," D. says, and out comes another one. So, we tell the guy not to come back, and he leaves, and we are going like, what is wrong with these fucking people? Three thieves inside of an hour! So, for the rest of the night, he stands guard while I ring, unless it gets really busy.

Later on, D. goes off shift, and I m left to close. About an hour later, I hear a commotion outside, and it is Blue, who is one of the smelliest and skankiest of all the skanks, and he is outside bumming money from customers to buy Thunderbird. So, I have to call a manager, and he runs him off, and Blue leaves, with his beat up old shopping cart and the six iron he uses for a cane (which is why some of the employees call him Golf Club Man).

This is pretty much a typical evening in the liquor department, but it is still much quieter than the main store, even if the clientele is, um, different. Of course, it is not all bad: most of our customers are decent people, and I have gotten to know a lot of them quite well. Still, work is insane.

Oh, yeah: the picture of the flock of pelicans has nothing to do with this post at all, except that I didn't really have a pertinent photo and they are pretty. This same flock shows up on the lakes every year and spends a month or so here.