Ever since I started working at the copy shop I've noticed the customers are a different sort than the ones I had at the gas station. Generally, they are a little nicer and friendlier. But there still are some that just grate on me. Mostly it's the ones that are condescending to us. Not to long ago, there was one lady in there talking on the phone and she said to the other person "I'm down here with my little *o***e* people." Something about that really irritated me, maybe it was her sense of ownership. And that was a relatively benign instance. Then there are the people who drop something off, demand it be done in a matter of hours and then proceed not to pick it up for days.
Of course, no one has ever tried to lunge over the counter at me. I'm sure that kind of behavior is pretty much limited to working in a gas station and possibly a bar. That's definitely the kind of thing I don't miss. I also don't miss the people that show me there surgical scars when I am obviously eating my dinner. Or the ones who would decide that I'm their best friend for the evening and proceed to share their unsolicited life story. Which generally consisted of a life of unrecognized alcoholism, failed relationships and shattered dreams. You know, the American sob story.
On the other hand, I heard some good stories and met some cool people that I never would have if weren't for working in a gas station. One memory that sticks out is the night a group of fifteen or so Muslims pulled up and asked if they could use the sinks. Sure, what do I care, I said, who am I to stop people from washing? I look out the window and on the far end of the parking lot they are all facing east saying their evening prayers. Afterwards, they came inside for snacks and stuff. Being the curious little monkey I am, and realizing that I may never get a chance like this again, I started asking questions. And, you know, they were more than happy to answer them. Apparently the washing is part of the prayer ritual. At some point my girlfriend at the time pulled up and was completely unsurprised to find me picking their brains.
I'll never have a night like that at the copy shop.
1 comment:
I'll never forget when I was 17, I was working at K-Mart. They were taking portraits of kids and there were a bunch of kids and soccer moms (well soccer moms before there were soccer moms- this was 1989) running all over the fucking place.
It was Chaos.
So this one gem of a human decided she was going to whistle to get my attention and then have me get her something.
I think I went blind with rage. I knew even at a young age I was more than a wage slave. I proceeded to rip her a new asshole in front of about 50 familys.
Did I feel better? Somewhat...but she went to the store manager and I got the corporate cock in the ass for standing up for myself.
The customer is always right.
Burn the rich.
Cheers,
JJ
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