I have a simple note to vandals. Although I enjoy the aestetically appealing doodles and I'm quite certain my boss has enjoyed the increased property value (as well as the spinoff industries comming from replacing various aspects of our store) I have one thing to note. (only one tonight cuz Im sleepy).
If youre going to do something do it right.
Im sure youve spent a good 10-15 minutes creating a piece of urban art of such calibre onto our building. And I can say i am quite impressed... impressed that you would use what must be a dry-erase marker onto a plastic panelling. IT COMES OFF WITH WINDEX AND A PAPER CLOTH.
Thanks again for your consideration, and I look forward to the 30 seconds it takes to remove your design.
Thursday, July 29, 2004
Tuesday, July 27, 2004
Counting
So we were training a new employee today, and of course, they are subject to amke a few mistakes. But, much like the 'L' ICBC makes new drivers tack on their vehicle, the 'Hi! I'm New Here' name tag new employees are forced to wear attracts only the stupidest and most obnoxious drivers in BC.
Needless to say, as I was helping her man down the tills, an angry lady (she started that way) approached with an armload of groceries.
The NE (new employee) ran the items through and announced the total.
"thats too much" yelled the lady.
the NE cleared the items and started to scan them all through again. Announcing the total (same as before) the lady became even more agitated.
"thats way more than it should be" she yelled
the NE was looking my way giving me the 'If you dont help me I will cry' look.
I began the long process of naming all the products she had purchased and doing a vocal sumation of all the prices.
"Case of water $5, 2 bags of chips on special $10, One bottle of Coke $12, 4 slurpees $16, 10 in gas $26 and Two packs of cigarettes... for a grand total of $42"
"Thats way more than it should be!"
"Your purchasing things at a gas station, if youd liek directions to safeway I can giove them to you"
She did the angry 'huff' and paid for her stuff and left.
Then NE gave me the 'Oh! thats how its done' look.
She is strong in the way of the force. She will be trained well!
Needless to say, as I was helping her man down the tills, an angry lady (she started that way) approached with an armload of groceries.
The NE (new employee) ran the items through and announced the total.
"thats too much" yelled the lady.
the NE cleared the items and started to scan them all through again. Announcing the total (same as before) the lady became even more agitated.
"thats way more than it should be" she yelled
the NE was looking my way giving me the 'If you dont help me I will cry' look.
I began the long process of naming all the products she had purchased and doing a vocal sumation of all the prices.
"Case of water $5, 2 bags of chips on special $10, One bottle of Coke $12, 4 slurpees $16, 10 in gas $26 and Two packs of cigarettes... for a grand total of $42"
"Thats way more than it should be!"
"Your purchasing things at a gas station, if youd liek directions to safeway I can giove them to you"
She did the angry 'huff' and paid for her stuff and left.
Then NE gave me the 'Oh! thats how its done' look.
She is strong in the way of the force. She will be trained well!
Porn Stars in Training
So, continuing with my theme of things that can get you thrown in jail, some very young (maybe only slightly post pubecent) girls came into the store yesterday. I estimate their ages to be about 14 or 15. Now under normal circumstances this wouldn't be cause for a story, had these children not been of the skank variety.
You see, the generalization that children are getting sexually active at a younger age does hold some truth, as was the case with these girls.
You see there is something to be admired about a person who is confident with their body in all its flaws. Maybe not to the point where flaugnting yourself is acceptable, but when you don't feel you have anything to be ashamed of, theres no point in hiding it.
That being said, when you say "I'll show you my tits if you give me a free chocolate bar" IS NOT COOL! Your offer would have been refused even if you were a legal adult. I do not like to facilitate people in the prostitution of their bodies especially when said prostitution can get me in jail.
Oh, and for the record, giving me your number and telling me to call you after Im off of work does not make it better. In fact, it makes it worse. I WILL NOT GO TO JAIL BECAUSE YOU ARE A SLUT!
Wow... Some peoples children!
You see, the generalization that children are getting sexually active at a younger age does hold some truth, as was the case with these girls.
You see there is something to be admired about a person who is confident with their body in all its flaws. Maybe not to the point where flaugnting yourself is acceptable, but when you don't feel you have anything to be ashamed of, theres no point in hiding it.
That being said, when you say "I'll show you my tits if you give me a free chocolate bar" IS NOT COOL! Your offer would have been refused even if you were a legal adult. I do not like to facilitate people in the prostitution of their bodies especially when said prostitution can get me in jail.
Oh, and for the record, giving me your number and telling me to call you after Im off of work does not make it better. In fact, it makes it worse. I WILL NOT GO TO JAIL BECAUSE YOU ARE A SLUT!
Wow... Some peoples children!
Sunday, July 18, 2004
Event Filled Weekend!
So I'ts been a little while since I have updated this (again)
Sorry everyone... I know I know...
But i have had an event filled weekend (as Im sure you could have guessed from the name).
There were numerous thefts to be had this weekend. Actually, all the ones Im going to be telling you about happened on saturday/sunday night/morning.
So Im doing my baking (I bake all the pastries and yummies that our store sells... when it says fresh its not a lie, it is at most less than a day old) minding my own business, and serving customers (as per my job description) when out of nowhere some customers enter. (yes out of nowhere, I added that for the sake of dramatization... this could potentially be a very boring story without the drama as added by me)
I, of course, stop what im doing to watch them because customers are less likely to steal when you watch them. They actually didnt pocket anything (unless they managed to shove a province newspaper down their pants) but simply stepped up to the counter each carrying a 1L bottle of pepsi. Now there is nothing unusual about this, nothing at al, but the fun begins here.
You see, the first person pays for the pepsi, turns around and looks at the other person.
says "Oh, hey, I bought you one already"
the second one loks at him, nods and starts to walk back to the cooler.
He takes three steps turns 90 degrees and walks out the door.
Bottle of pop still in hand, within plain sight of the cameras, myself and the other customers in the store. He walks to his car, which parked in plain sigh (white pickup lp# plainly viewable) turns onto 64th ave and drives off...
All the while Im sitting there thinking "OMG"
I suppose thats what he was expecting but the fact still remains I have the right to refuse him service, and his buddy's transaction information is on our computer... I dont know what good it'll do, especially since we rarely have the cheapest gas in Cloverdale...
My second story happens about 20 minutes after the first.
I was helping a customer count coin (he had a collection of nickels he was tring to roll so as to get it out of his collection and possibly into something edible)
Another customer walks in, and mentions to me "Did you just sell a bunch of water to those kids?" "no i re[plied" "Well theyre taking them anyways"
So we have had a lot of water stolen in the last few days (30 cases of 12 on one night last week) so our boss is willing to press charges on anyone so much as breathing in the evaporated moisture from a bottle they have yet to purchase.
So I instantly call the cops, get a few witnesses to verify the lp# I was writing down. Set up a police file with all the information of the vehicle and the such and such and on and on.
I felt like a knob, but my boss made me feel like a hero...
My third story (as I reported it to my boss) was me. I took a cookie.
A chocolate chip cookie.
And I didnt pay.
And I have no plans on it.
And my fourth story is funny as heck (maybe not a 'hahaha' funny, but definately in a siruationally ironic type of hillarity).
turns out some kids had been in the store while I was on the phone with the cops about the water.
They had taken that time in order to pocket some candy and chocolate bars.
Then they had paid for a few things and left the store.
Then they went to a deserted alleyway where they divied up their stash.
Someneighbours thought it was suspicious that kids were parked in an alleyway so late at night, so they called the cops.
The cops showed up to investigate.
The kids were not intoxicated nor did the cops smell any illegal substances.
But the kids were acting suspicious none the less.
So the cops began questioning them.
Eventually the topic of the collection of choclate bars and candy came up, which they claimed to have purchased.
The police officers felt that the topic of candy made the kids act a little bit weirder, so they contiued, asking where the candies had been purchased.
My store was mentioned.
One cop stayed to make sure the kis didnt go anywhere and one came over to petro can to ask me if I hda sold these specific candies to these kids (we dont give reciepts to all customers so they wouldnt necissarily have had one for the cops).
No longer had the petro cop radio-ed then the kids fessed up to having had stole the candy.
The cop told me what was up (and all the events that had occured up to then) and then left.
He came back about 30 minutes later to inform me that the kids had not yet eaten much of the candy, and returned to me about $12 worth of unopened merchandise, as well as a large caramilk bar (missing a bite) and a Fruit&Creme candy snack (its like starburst).
He also informed me that my boss probibly wouldnt need to press charges as (because the childrens parents were not home or able to be contacted) the kids would spend an amount of time in jail (up to the time that one of the parents could be reached and could come to release them).
I think I'm going to learn the names of all the graveyard police officers in cloverdale by the end of summer... I think it would be fun if they also knew me by first name...
Oh well!
Gnight
Sorry everyone... I know I know...
But i have had an event filled weekend (as Im sure you could have guessed from the name).
There were numerous thefts to be had this weekend. Actually, all the ones Im going to be telling you about happened on saturday/sunday night/morning.
So Im doing my baking (I bake all the pastries and yummies that our store sells... when it says fresh its not a lie, it is at most less than a day old) minding my own business, and serving customers (as per my job description) when out of nowhere some customers enter. (yes out of nowhere, I added that for the sake of dramatization... this could potentially be a very boring story without the drama as added by me)
I, of course, stop what im doing to watch them because customers are less likely to steal when you watch them. They actually didnt pocket anything (unless they managed to shove a province newspaper down their pants) but simply stepped up to the counter each carrying a 1L bottle of pepsi. Now there is nothing unusual about this, nothing at al, but the fun begins here.
You see, the first person pays for the pepsi, turns around and looks at the other person.
says "Oh, hey, I bought you one already"
the second one loks at him, nods and starts to walk back to the cooler.
He takes three steps turns 90 degrees and walks out the door.
Bottle of pop still in hand, within plain sight of the cameras, myself and the other customers in the store. He walks to his car, which parked in plain sigh (white pickup lp# plainly viewable) turns onto 64th ave and drives off...
All the while Im sitting there thinking "OMG"
I suppose thats what he was expecting but the fact still remains I have the right to refuse him service, and his buddy's transaction information is on our computer... I dont know what good it'll do, especially since we rarely have the cheapest gas in Cloverdale...
My second story happens about 20 minutes after the first.
I was helping a customer count coin (he had a collection of nickels he was tring to roll so as to get it out of his collection and possibly into something edible)
Another customer walks in, and mentions to me "Did you just sell a bunch of water to those kids?" "no i re[plied" "Well theyre taking them anyways"
So we have had a lot of water stolen in the last few days (30 cases of 12 on one night last week) so our boss is willing to press charges on anyone so much as breathing in the evaporated moisture from a bottle they have yet to purchase.
So I instantly call the cops, get a few witnesses to verify the lp# I was writing down. Set up a police file with all the information of the vehicle and the such and such and on and on.
I felt like a knob, but my boss made me feel like a hero...
My third story (as I reported it to my boss) was me. I took a cookie.
A chocolate chip cookie.
And I didnt pay.
And I have no plans on it.
And my fourth story is funny as heck (maybe not a 'hahaha' funny, but definately in a siruationally ironic type of hillarity).
turns out some kids had been in the store while I was on the phone with the cops about the water.
They had taken that time in order to pocket some candy and chocolate bars.
Then they had paid for a few things and left the store.
Then they went to a deserted alleyway where they divied up their stash.
Someneighbours thought it was suspicious that kids were parked in an alleyway so late at night, so they called the cops.
The cops showed up to investigate.
The kids were not intoxicated nor did the cops smell any illegal substances.
But the kids were acting suspicious none the less.
So the cops began questioning them.
Eventually the topic of the collection of choclate bars and candy came up, which they claimed to have purchased.
The police officers felt that the topic of candy made the kids act a little bit weirder, so they contiued, asking where the candies had been purchased.
My store was mentioned.
One cop stayed to make sure the kis didnt go anywhere and one came over to petro can to ask me if I hda sold these specific candies to these kids (we dont give reciepts to all customers so they wouldnt necissarily have had one for the cops).
No longer had the petro cop radio-ed then the kids fessed up to having had stole the candy.
The cop told me what was up (and all the events that had occured up to then) and then left.
He came back about 30 minutes later to inform me that the kids had not yet eaten much of the candy, and returned to me about $12 worth of unopened merchandise, as well as a large caramilk bar (missing a bite) and a Fruit&Creme candy snack (its like starburst).
He also informed me that my boss probibly wouldnt need to press charges as (because the childrens parents were not home or able to be contacted) the kids would spend an amount of time in jail (up to the time that one of the parents could be reached and could come to release them).
I think I'm going to learn the names of all the graveyard police officers in cloverdale by the end of summer... I think it would be fun if they also knew me by first name...
Oh well!
Gnight
Saturday, July 17, 2004
Full Force
So it seems like all the freaky weirdos and psychos have been saving up their special powers to make my return night to graveyards oh so extra special.
The succeeded!
Not only were there the drunks and the weirdos, and the creepy people who only seem to ever live in cloverdale (I think there is something in the cloverdale water supply that makes people look and act especially homely... thankfully I'm on well water)
But there were a few special people that deserve honourable mentions in my blog.
I'll start witha rather mundane person, and build up to the really fun person. I hope you don't mind, but in my eyes the stories are going to get progressively more entertaining in this one.
I'll start off with a man, a plan, a canal... I mean pump... Sorry, I'm sleepy. So a guy pulls up to the pumps, and lifts up the nosal. Of course, there is a beeping sound inside to tell me someone somewhere has picked up a nosal (my spidey senses are tingling)... I do my little speech over the intercom "blah blah blah prepay/pay at the pump only blah blah blah" and all is fine and dandy. he starts walking to the door. he opens the door, half steps inside and asks me "I can prepay at the pump, right?"... I did say pay at the pump, but for the sake of getting him out as quickly as possible, I just smile and nod. He leaves, back to his car, hangs up the nosal and inserts his card (I know he inserted it because my compter... err spidey senses... tell me so)... Thats when he decided not to enter his pin. I know so again because of my spidey senses... Afetr timing out (just like regular debit, if you wait too long the machine cancells your transaction) he comes inside to tell me that the pump is broken. I, at the time, was dealing with the other 8 or so customers who were waiting their turn (for some reason the really stupid people tend to think that ines do not apply to them...) and ignored him until I had a spare second... in that time, he had gone back out to his car and moved to a different pump. Lo and behold, this pump was 'broken' too (he didnt choose which grade of gasoline he wanted). Again he came in to complain about the broken pump. I was still dealing with some customers, but I afforded him a sidewards glance an offered a solution. "Follow the directions on the pump... you're not doing it right!" he gave me the 'you don't know what youre talking about, the pump is obviuously broken' look... But upon returning to his car, the pump was miraculously healed and able to be pumped from... Some people would say that he smartened up, but I would like to think that the oil stain on the pavement that looks like the Virgin Mother may have had something to do with it --Thanks Jesus ;)
Next we have the a crack fiend... I have a lot of these visit the store, its kinda like gangsta's in Detroit or bad haircuts in Saskatoon-- they're all over the place. But this one was something special. He comes by and asks if I can make change for his $50 bill. I respond no. I am working by myself, in a gas station that has been robbed twice in the last six months, and has been offered hundreds of dollars worth of fake bills. Needless to say, I dont usually carry anything more than a five, and I rarely have change for a $50 or $100 (Not to mention the fact that there are places that get far more traffic and have far more emplyees on staff that will not accept 50's or 100's... let alone during the graveyard shift.) So he starts begging... 'don't you have any toonies or loonies or anything you can trade for $50' at this time alarm bells start going off. Not only is he looking to get change, he is willing to get less back in return. I don't know if you know the nature of crackheads, but generally they tend to be the type picking cigarette butts off the ground to get the left over tobacco, or eating the $0.05 candies that have fallen on the ground in the candy isle. Giving money away does not seem to be their stong point. Needless to say, I refuse all attempts on his part to persuade me to give him money in exchange for his $50. He leaves. The same man comes back about an hour later... Wearing a different (cleaner) shirt, Ill have you (I think he thought I was fooled... but I wasn't... unless there are two of them... scary thought)... Anyways, he begins by stating that he needs coin for the payphone and asks if I can help him out. I have no problem giving coin out in most circumstances. For me it's not even really an issue. I accept, and out comes a $50... back to square one. Can't accept it, no excpetions, blah blah blah... He asks me how much he has to spend before I'll accept it. I tell him near all of it, and thats if I can examine it to make sure its real... He promptly leaves the store...
He comes back at about 5am. Thistime he's got about $20 worth of silver coin for me to count. he's lucky I had nothing better to do, and that we have a counting device... I assume that the coin was for his dealer, cuz his dealer showed up before we had finished counting out all the nickels... And they started haggling the price of the 'rocks' inside the store (and I highly doubt that these were special stones for his koi pond)...
This sounds like a good time to bring up my third and bestest eprson of the day. The dealer. No longer had a price been agreed, and a certain crack fiend left to his car (I assume to grab another fifty dollars or so) when the dealer began trying to sell me some stuff. Now under most circumstances I would have just asked him to go... but, he was busy writing down his cell number so that if I changed my mind, he could be my supplier... right their, in my store. After I told him I had never done drugs in my life. I should have told him that if I wanted to try drugs, I have family members with better connnections than him, but I figured that he's just an entrepeneur, and that i shouldn't be too mean...
I intended to call the cops with my new found drug dealer ph#... but I didn't, cuz the dealer had my name and the location of my work... And with a failing gun registry and all, I dont think that would be cool...
The succeeded!
Not only were there the drunks and the weirdos, and the creepy people who only seem to ever live in cloverdale (I think there is something in the cloverdale water supply that makes people look and act especially homely... thankfully I'm on well water)
But there were a few special people that deserve honourable mentions in my blog.
I'll start witha rather mundane person, and build up to the really fun person. I hope you don't mind, but in my eyes the stories are going to get progressively more entertaining in this one.
I'll start off with a man, a plan, a canal... I mean pump... Sorry, I'm sleepy. So a guy pulls up to the pumps, and lifts up the nosal. Of course, there is a beeping sound inside to tell me someone somewhere has picked up a nosal (my spidey senses are tingling)... I do my little speech over the intercom "blah blah blah prepay/pay at the pump only blah blah blah" and all is fine and dandy. he starts walking to the door. he opens the door, half steps inside and asks me "I can prepay at the pump, right?"... I did say pay at the pump, but for the sake of getting him out as quickly as possible, I just smile and nod. He leaves, back to his car, hangs up the nosal and inserts his card (I know he inserted it because my compter... err spidey senses... tell me so)... Thats when he decided not to enter his pin. I know so again because of my spidey senses... Afetr timing out (just like regular debit, if you wait too long the machine cancells your transaction) he comes inside to tell me that the pump is broken. I, at the time, was dealing with the other 8 or so customers who were waiting their turn (for some reason the really stupid people tend to think that ines do not apply to them...) and ignored him until I had a spare second... in that time, he had gone back out to his car and moved to a different pump. Lo and behold, this pump was 'broken' too (he didnt choose which grade of gasoline he wanted). Again he came in to complain about the broken pump. I was still dealing with some customers, but I afforded him a sidewards glance an offered a solution. "Follow the directions on the pump... you're not doing it right!" he gave me the 'you don't know what youre talking about, the pump is obviuously broken' look... But upon returning to his car, the pump was miraculously healed and able to be pumped from... Some people would say that he smartened up, but I would like to think that the oil stain on the pavement that looks like the Virgin Mother may have had something to do with it --Thanks Jesus ;)
Next we have the a crack fiend... I have a lot of these visit the store, its kinda like gangsta's in Detroit or bad haircuts in Saskatoon-- they're all over the place. But this one was something special. He comes by and asks if I can make change for his $50 bill. I respond no. I am working by myself, in a gas station that has been robbed twice in the last six months, and has been offered hundreds of dollars worth of fake bills. Needless to say, I dont usually carry anything more than a five, and I rarely have change for a $50 or $100 (Not to mention the fact that there are places that get far more traffic and have far more emplyees on staff that will not accept 50's or 100's... let alone during the graveyard shift.) So he starts begging... 'don't you have any toonies or loonies or anything you can trade for $50' at this time alarm bells start going off. Not only is he looking to get change, he is willing to get less back in return. I don't know if you know the nature of crackheads, but generally they tend to be the type picking cigarette butts off the ground to get the left over tobacco, or eating the $0.05 candies that have fallen on the ground in the candy isle. Giving money away does not seem to be their stong point. Needless to say, I refuse all attempts on his part to persuade me to give him money in exchange for his $50. He leaves. The same man comes back about an hour later... Wearing a different (cleaner) shirt, Ill have you (I think he thought I was fooled... but I wasn't... unless there are two of them... scary thought)... Anyways, he begins by stating that he needs coin for the payphone and asks if I can help him out. I have no problem giving coin out in most circumstances. For me it's not even really an issue. I accept, and out comes a $50... back to square one. Can't accept it, no excpetions, blah blah blah... He asks me how much he has to spend before I'll accept it. I tell him near all of it, and thats if I can examine it to make sure its real... He promptly leaves the store...
He comes back at about 5am. Thistime he's got about $20 worth of silver coin for me to count. he's lucky I had nothing better to do, and that we have a counting device... I assume that the coin was for his dealer, cuz his dealer showed up before we had finished counting out all the nickels... And they started haggling the price of the 'rocks' inside the store (and I highly doubt that these were special stones for his koi pond)...
This sounds like a good time to bring up my third and bestest eprson of the day. The dealer. No longer had a price been agreed, and a certain crack fiend left to his car (I assume to grab another fifty dollars or so) when the dealer began trying to sell me some stuff. Now under most circumstances I would have just asked him to go... but, he was busy writing down his cell number so that if I changed my mind, he could be my supplier... right their, in my store. After I told him I had never done drugs in my life. I should have told him that if I wanted to try drugs, I have family members with better connnections than him, but I figured that he's just an entrepeneur, and that i shouldn't be too mean...
I intended to call the cops with my new found drug dealer ph#... but I didn't, cuz the dealer had my name and the location of my work... And with a failing gun registry and all, I dont think that would be cool...
Friday, July 16, 2004
Twit
So, things were pretty interesting today at work...
You see, there is this little thing in this world called theft. Although most people have the morals enough to prevent them from taking what isn't theirs, so people have been denied of the skills to determin between right and wrong. I attribute this to a lack of beatings as a child, but I am sure there are a hundred other reasons why this may be (perhaps this person should be beaten now, just to make sure)...
Anyways, before you start jumping to conclusions, I am not speaking of a stupid customer without enough brains to get caught, I am refering to an emplyee who was stupid enough to steal from his boss. Yes madams and sirs, we have some insider theft on our hands. (please refer back to the Intercom post... this is the same employee that I complain about there)
The way he was doing it was slightly ingenius (I use the term slightly because his downfall negates any geniusness caused by his clever cash clepto-- my English teacher would be proud of that alliteration)... He would scan all the items into the computer, just like a good little employee. But then instead of pressing [Cash] -> [Enter] to ring it through, he pressed [clear] -> [open register]. He then completed the transaction as per usual, providing the correct amount of change and all, but he would pocket the cash that would have gone to the till. Since there were no items rung through, no cash was missing, and any items that were noticed to be gone when inventory came around were attributed to thieving children.
Now, enter the downfall (cue clown music). He has a gambling addiction.
Wait...
To call it an addiction would degrade crack heads and alcoholics alike.
okay, so this guy really REALLY likes his scratch tickets... REALLY REALLY likes them. And I assume that is what lead to his thieving... But when he started spending more money than he was making on lotto tickets (and Im not saying that it would have been like "he spent $300 but he only made $295"... no it was more like "How is he buying $110 worth of lotto tickets every night... lets watch the videotapes to see whats going on")
I kinda wanted to be the one who called him to tell him... I think it would have been fun. I did get to write a note about him in the internal log, telling everyone that he's to be treated like a (much disliked) customer. I got some level of gratification out of that.
Now I am going to try to get as many of my friends hired at that store as I can. Contact me if you might be interested (the sooner the better)...
You see, there is this little thing in this world called theft. Although most people have the morals enough to prevent them from taking what isn't theirs, so people have been denied of the skills to determin between right and wrong. I attribute this to a lack of beatings as a child, but I am sure there are a hundred other reasons why this may be (perhaps this person should be beaten now, just to make sure)...
Anyways, before you start jumping to conclusions, I am not speaking of a stupid customer without enough brains to get caught, I am refering to an emplyee who was stupid enough to steal from his boss. Yes madams and sirs, we have some insider theft on our hands. (please refer back to the Intercom post... this is the same employee that I complain about there)
The way he was doing it was slightly ingenius (I use the term slightly because his downfall negates any geniusness caused by his clever cash clepto-- my English teacher would be proud of that alliteration)... He would scan all the items into the computer, just like a good little employee. But then instead of pressing [Cash] -> [Enter] to ring it through, he pressed [clear] -> [open register]. He then completed the transaction as per usual, providing the correct amount of change and all, but he would pocket the cash that would have gone to the till. Since there were no items rung through, no cash was missing, and any items that were noticed to be gone when inventory came around were attributed to thieving children.
Now, enter the downfall (cue clown music). He has a gambling addiction.
Wait...
To call it an addiction would degrade crack heads and alcoholics alike.
okay, so this guy really REALLY likes his scratch tickets... REALLY REALLY likes them. And I assume that is what lead to his thieving... But when he started spending more money than he was making on lotto tickets (and Im not saying that it would have been like "he spent $300 but he only made $295"... no it was more like "How is he buying $110 worth of lotto tickets every night... lets watch the videotapes to see whats going on")
I kinda wanted to be the one who called him to tell him... I think it would have been fun. I did get to write a note about him in the internal log, telling everyone that he's to be treated like a (much disliked) customer. I got some level of gratification out of that.
Now I am going to try to get as many of my friends hired at that store as I can. Contact me if you might be interested (the sooner the better)...
Wednesday, July 14, 2004
Back to Work
Tonight was rather disappointing.
I figured I would have large amounts of things to tell you, but the people tonuight were rather well behaved... Cept one, but its kinda lame...
Anyways, here goes.
He pumps his gas and comes inside, grabs a 591mL bottle of diet coke, and comes up to the counter. With his purchase of gas ($29.02) and his purchase of pop ($1.49 for the pop + 0.05 deposit + 0.03 environmental levy + 0.11 tax) we have a grand total of (drumroll please) 30.70.
Now this seems to be a case where this guy gets really confused, and convinces himself that the whole is greater than the sum of the two parts.
He begins to argue with me about the price of his purchase.
He tried to convince me in a "I'll forgive you because you weork at a gas station and therefore can't be very smart" type of voice that his bill should only be 29.02.
I remind him that he is also buying a bottle of pop.
This does not register with him.
He reiterates that he only pumped $29 worth of gas.
I reiterate that a pop plus a gas equals more than the price of gas.
Then he snapped out of his stupidity (It was like watching a dog when it responds to a vocal command for the first time... I had given him the proverbial "Sit!... Good boy")...
the whole time he managed to keep it very low key, and without raising his voice during the entire ordeal. So I dont really consider him an idiot so much. I'll just assume he had a long day.
I figured I would have large amounts of things to tell you, but the people tonuight were rather well behaved... Cept one, but its kinda lame...
Anyways, here goes.
He pumps his gas and comes inside, grabs a 591mL bottle of diet coke, and comes up to the counter. With his purchase of gas ($29.02) and his purchase of pop ($1.49 for the pop + 0.05 deposit + 0.03 environmental levy + 0.11 tax) we have a grand total of (drumroll please) 30.70.
Now this seems to be a case where this guy gets really confused, and convinces himself that the whole is greater than the sum of the two parts.
He begins to argue with me about the price of his purchase.
He tried to convince me in a "I'll forgive you because you weork at a gas station and therefore can't be very smart" type of voice that his bill should only be 29.02.
I remind him that he is also buying a bottle of pop.
This does not register with him.
He reiterates that he only pumped $29 worth of gas.
I reiterate that a pop plus a gas equals more than the price of gas.
Then he snapped out of his stupidity (It was like watching a dog when it responds to a vocal command for the first time... I had given him the proverbial "Sit!... Good boy")...
the whole time he managed to keep it very low key, and without raising his voice during the entire ordeal. So I dont really consider him an idiot so much. I'll just assume he had a long day.
Tuesday, July 13, 2004
Apologies
Just so all of my unwavering fans can be 'in the know' I was on vacation for the last week... Well, technically bI wasn't vacationing, I was doing the whole 'Lord's Work' thingy... you know how it is.
I work my first return shift tomorrow. I'll be bright eyed and bushy tailed; ready to remember to the very best detail exactly what stupid things customers do.
Oh, and I guess I can fill you in on the workings of some other fun stuff, since I haven't added stuff in a long time, I'll just talk about stupid people in general, and not just the people that come into petro can.
First off, stupid driver. Not really much to say, as saying too much would elevate this action to a level of some sort. But if someone slows down to 30 in an 80 zone in order to let you merge, then bloody well merge. I don't need to have a liscense in order to know this, therefor you should know this. Stupid lady.
Umm... second... If you're in a crowded museum on the opening day of a major exhibit (the Royal Museum in BC has an exibit on ancient Egypt which I, and some friends, was able to view on opening day) DO NOT BACK UP AT RANDOM! The hall was very crowded, and he paused in order to take in the true beauty of the entire piece (while listening to the cool voice overs of the personal tour guide-- no sarcasm, I actually thought they were quite neat) he decides to back up at random. Whats worse, he kept moving in a backwards motion afterhe walked into me and stepped on my sandal shielded toes. Had there been someone trying to cut past him from the front, or had he apologised, or had he not cut me off in the first place (I was standing at this particular exhibit for a good 2 mins before he walked in front of me) I may have just 'meh'ed it off, but together these things really iritated me.
Finally, if you dont like to overhear a particular conversation held by two people, then move. I was having a pleasant conversation with a friend of mine, discussing the humourous nature of watching seals, otters, and porpoises (I dont know how to spell that one at all) get sucked into the engines of a catamaran (one of the reasons the 'Fast Cats' were stopped was due to the inability for critters to escape). After discussing all the sensual reasons for why it would be funny (the sounds, the water colour, the choppiness of the engine as it saws through their bones, etc) as well as the emotional reasons (the anticipation of waiting for an approaching animal, the joy of seeing the sea bits flow up behind the boat, and such), I was given the eye of death by a lady standing next to us. We were standing on the upper deck of (I think) the queen of Victoria. Needless to say, we are above 6 other floors this lady could have moved to in order to avoid our conversation, but she chose to stay and listen in to our conversation. Should could have walked to the other side of the boat even. Chances are if she had moved another 5 feet along the empty handrail, she wouldnt have been able to hear us over the sound of the engine. I have a dark sense of humour. Deal with it lady!
That will have to do... I know its not up to my usual standards, but people just don't seem to be as stupid as when theyre at the gas station.
I think it's the fumes of the super clean.
I work my first return shift tomorrow. I'll be bright eyed and bushy tailed; ready to remember to the very best detail exactly what stupid things customers do.
Oh, and I guess I can fill you in on the workings of some other fun stuff, since I haven't added stuff in a long time, I'll just talk about stupid people in general, and not just the people that come into petro can.
First off, stupid driver. Not really much to say, as saying too much would elevate this action to a level of some sort. But if someone slows down to 30 in an 80 zone in order to let you merge, then bloody well merge. I don't need to have a liscense in order to know this, therefor you should know this. Stupid lady.
Umm... second... If you're in a crowded museum on the opening day of a major exhibit (the Royal Museum in BC has an exibit on ancient Egypt which I, and some friends, was able to view on opening day) DO NOT BACK UP AT RANDOM! The hall was very crowded, and he paused in order to take in the true beauty of the entire piece (while listening to the cool voice overs of the personal tour guide-- no sarcasm, I actually thought they were quite neat) he decides to back up at random. Whats worse, he kept moving in a backwards motion afterhe walked into me and stepped on my sandal shielded toes. Had there been someone trying to cut past him from the front, or had he apologised, or had he not cut me off in the first place (I was standing at this particular exhibit for a good 2 mins before he walked in front of me) I may have just 'meh'ed it off, but together these things really iritated me.
Finally, if you dont like to overhear a particular conversation held by two people, then move. I was having a pleasant conversation with a friend of mine, discussing the humourous nature of watching seals, otters, and porpoises (I dont know how to spell that one at all) get sucked into the engines of a catamaran (one of the reasons the 'Fast Cats' were stopped was due to the inability for critters to escape). After discussing all the sensual reasons for why it would be funny (the sounds, the water colour, the choppiness of the engine as it saws through their bones, etc) as well as the emotional reasons (the anticipation of waiting for an approaching animal, the joy of seeing the sea bits flow up behind the boat, and such), I was given the eye of death by a lady standing next to us. We were standing on the upper deck of (I think) the queen of Victoria. Needless to say, we are above 6 other floors this lady could have moved to in order to avoid our conversation, but she chose to stay and listen in to our conversation. Should could have walked to the other side of the boat even. Chances are if she had moved another 5 feet along the empty handrail, she wouldnt have been able to hear us over the sound of the engine. I have a dark sense of humour. Deal with it lady!
That will have to do... I know its not up to my usual standards, but people just don't seem to be as stupid as when theyre at the gas station.
I think it's the fumes of the super clean.
Friday, July 02, 2004
Canada Day
So, yesterday was Canada Day! yay! I had the joy of being the person working by myself as the fireworks and festivities wound down a little ways down the hill. yay! As i'm sure you can imagine, working by yourself at a gas station as several thousands of people disperse in every different direction is far from fun. In fact, it's so much not fun, that you couldn't even include fun in it's description. Calling it not fun would be an injustice to all the not fun things there are in this world. Like womens amateur golf marathons, or having teeth pulled, or shooting yourself in the foot with a nail gun. It's not not-fun, its bad. Very bad.
There were only two things keeping me going. 1) I knew that there were people who had it worse off then me (I can't imagine workig at the places that are right across the street from such events-- I'm 4 blocks away and its still quite bad) and 2) XL french vanilla cappiccino...
Anyways, to put things in perspective, between 2150 and 0200 I did the same amount of sales as would normally be done between 1800 and 2200. But, I was working by myself, the other shift has two people. And I have more tasks. I have to bake, do dishes, stock the cooler, bleach (pretty much) every surface, change all the garbages, sanitize the bathroom. All between serving the exhorbant amount of customers. Needless to say, I was getting a little bit drained.
But, now comes the real fun part. You see, this is just my regular complaining, now lets introduce the customers.
You see, what better way to celebrate Canada day then by intoxicating yourself so much that you don't remeber what youre celebrating, who youre celebrating with, or how to read the signs that tell you how much something is.
Now I'm not saying that a lot of my customers were drunk, I'm saying that I was fearful of doing my baking because breath was probibly of high enough proof to burst into flames.
and they would all ask the stupid questions. Mainly "how much is this?" 99.9% of the time the products have a price directly under them. the other .1% of the time is usually because another customer put a product down without purchasing it, and in the wrong place none the less.
But the cream of this crop had to be the guy who asks "How much is this pepsi and doritos deal?" Obviously reading the sign, because deals are not advertised any other way, he was obviously missing the very large $3.18. If he had read one more word past doritos, he would have been at the price. Completely disregarding the fact that the price is twice the size of the products listed, you'd think he would have at least ahd the decency to read the entire sign first. but no. My initial thought was "quick, look around he's obviously trying to be a distraction for someone else!" Sadly, no. He was the only one in the store. And he was serious. He wanted to know the price.
Another teen wanted to know if he could get one of those pepperoni cheese sticks without the pepperoni. It wasnt very hard to point the 2" to the left to where our pepperoniless-pepperoni cheese snacks --cleaverly disguised under the name cheese snacks... yeah, we like to be confusing here =)
A man was trying to pay at the pump, but his first attempt ended because he entered the wrong pin#. After waiting for him to hang up the pump, so I could clear the machine, he gave it a second attempt. Again, it was the wrong pin. He then decided it was time for me to get a talking to (I use the word 'talk' loosely cuz it wasn't exactly on his to do list). After explaining to him that he haed entered the wrong pin, followed by a brief argument about his ability to enter in the right pin at least once for sure, I decided to patronize him. I explained that we have had difficulties with the pump before (not an entire lie, its usually people doing stupid stuff to it that causes problems, though) and that we could do prepay inside. I swipe his card, he enters in his pin #. Sure enough, denied- Wrong Pin. He examined his card, turned bright red, and left. He attempted to pay at the pump again, with success. Ha! Take that! I win!
My final short story of the night comes from a very irrate lady. She had obiously had a very long day (she was wearing hospital scrubs, which is a dead give away). She pulls up to the pump, and lifts the handle. I OK her throught the computer. ***ERROR***. I wait for her to hang up the pump to clear it and find out what happened. ***Card inserted at wrong time***. (you have to do the entire transaction before you can lift the handle up-- inserting the card when the handle is up is a no-no). The beeping outside had stopped (the pumps beep quite loud if something goes wrong.. partly to alert the user that something has gone wrong, partly as a sadistic way to make everyone turn and lok at the idiot that can't use a pump) so she had moved on to try again. This time it was so quick that I didnt have a chance to do anything. She seemingly managed to lift the handle and place the nozzle in her tank at the exact moment she inserted her card intot he machine. Needless to say, ***ERROR***. This time she came inside to see what was up. I explained to her to follow the directions on the pumps screen in order to complete a pay at the pump transaction. She nods and goes back out to her car. ***Card inserted*** ***Please Enter Pin*** ***ERROR***... I wait for her to hang up so I can again clear her pump, and this time she comes in to give me the lecture of all lectures (again, I use the word 'lecture' lightly, because lecturing is probibly the last thing on her mind...) I cut her off mid sentance and explain to her that the entire interact thing needs to be completed before the handle is moved, lest she want to be beeped again. She gave me that 'deer in the headlights' look you usually only get if you catch a little kid doing something they know theyre not supposed to. She went out side, completed her transaction, and then came back inside to buy a cofee and some munchies. She apologised for having yeled at me. I gloated in my victory.
Well, sorta...
and I waited till she was out of the store...
she was really buff, and the counter doesn't really seperate us from anyhing...
and I'm a wuss...
There were only two things keeping me going. 1) I knew that there were people who had it worse off then me (I can't imagine workig at the places that are right across the street from such events-- I'm 4 blocks away and its still quite bad) and 2) XL french vanilla cappiccino...
Anyways, to put things in perspective, between 2150 and 0200 I did the same amount of sales as would normally be done between 1800 and 2200. But, I was working by myself, the other shift has two people. And I have more tasks. I have to bake, do dishes, stock the cooler, bleach (pretty much) every surface, change all the garbages, sanitize the bathroom. All between serving the exhorbant amount of customers. Needless to say, I was getting a little bit drained.
But, now comes the real fun part. You see, this is just my regular complaining, now lets introduce the customers.
You see, what better way to celebrate Canada day then by intoxicating yourself so much that you don't remeber what youre celebrating, who youre celebrating with, or how to read the signs that tell you how much something is.
Now I'm not saying that a lot of my customers were drunk, I'm saying that I was fearful of doing my baking because breath was probibly of high enough proof to burst into flames.
and they would all ask the stupid questions. Mainly "how much is this?" 99.9% of the time the products have a price directly under them. the other .1% of the time is usually because another customer put a product down without purchasing it, and in the wrong place none the less.
But the cream of this crop had to be the guy who asks "How much is this pepsi and doritos deal?" Obviously reading the sign, because deals are not advertised any other way, he was obviously missing the very large $3.18. If he had read one more word past doritos, he would have been at the price. Completely disregarding the fact that the price is twice the size of the products listed, you'd think he would have at least ahd the decency to read the entire sign first. but no. My initial thought was "quick, look around he's obviously trying to be a distraction for someone else!" Sadly, no. He was the only one in the store. And he was serious. He wanted to know the price.
Another teen wanted to know if he could get one of those pepperoni cheese sticks without the pepperoni. It wasnt very hard to point the 2" to the left to where our pepperoniless-pepperoni cheese snacks --cleaverly disguised under the name cheese snacks... yeah, we like to be confusing here =)
A man was trying to pay at the pump, but his first attempt ended because he entered the wrong pin#. After waiting for him to hang up the pump, so I could clear the machine, he gave it a second attempt. Again, it was the wrong pin. He then decided it was time for me to get a talking to (I use the word 'talk' loosely cuz it wasn't exactly on his to do list). After explaining to him that he haed entered the wrong pin, followed by a brief argument about his ability to enter in the right pin at least once for sure, I decided to patronize him. I explained that we have had difficulties with the pump before (not an entire lie, its usually people doing stupid stuff to it that causes problems, though) and that we could do prepay inside. I swipe his card, he enters in his pin #. Sure enough, denied- Wrong Pin. He examined his card, turned bright red, and left. He attempted to pay at the pump again, with success. Ha! Take that! I win!
My final short story of the night comes from a very irrate lady. She had obiously had a very long day (she was wearing hospital scrubs, which is a dead give away). She pulls up to the pump, and lifts the handle. I OK her throught the computer. ***ERROR***. I wait for her to hang up the pump to clear it and find out what happened. ***Card inserted at wrong time***. (you have to do the entire transaction before you can lift the handle up-- inserting the card when the handle is up is a no-no). The beeping outside had stopped (the pumps beep quite loud if something goes wrong.. partly to alert the user that something has gone wrong, partly as a sadistic way to make everyone turn and lok at the idiot that can't use a pump) so she had moved on to try again. This time it was so quick that I didnt have a chance to do anything. She seemingly managed to lift the handle and place the nozzle in her tank at the exact moment she inserted her card intot he machine. Needless to say, ***ERROR***. This time she came inside to see what was up. I explained to her to follow the directions on the pumps screen in order to complete a pay at the pump transaction. She nods and goes back out to her car. ***Card inserted*** ***Please Enter Pin*** ***ERROR***... I wait for her to hang up so I can again clear her pump, and this time she comes in to give me the lecture of all lectures (again, I use the word 'lecture' lightly, because lecturing is probibly the last thing on her mind...) I cut her off mid sentance and explain to her that the entire interact thing needs to be completed before the handle is moved, lest she want to be beeped again. She gave me that 'deer in the headlights' look you usually only get if you catch a little kid doing something they know theyre not supposed to. She went out side, completed her transaction, and then came back inside to buy a cofee and some munchies. She apologised for having yeled at me. I gloated in my victory.
Well, sorta...
and I waited till she was out of the store...
she was really buff, and the counter doesn't really seperate us from anyhing...
and I'm a wuss...
Wednesday, June 30, 2004
Gas Cap Lady
So, if I have ever claimed to have met the most unintelligent person in clover, I take it back. This lady takes the cake... although, maybe she is from langley, the water isn't so good there...
Regardless, I will get on with my story with the following assumptions 1)this lady is from cloverdale and therefore 2) is easily the stupidest person in Cloverdale.
Picture this, a beautiful summers day. Birds are chirping, the sun is shining, somewhere children are kiling tiny creatures with magnifying glases or gasoline.
Now into this picturesque environment, insert rusted out Honda (cue lightning strike).
This lady pulls into full serve, whilst I am aiding a handicapped women pump her gas (for people with certifiable disabilities (generally people with one of the little blue signs), our boss allows us to do full serve at a self serve stall, freeing them from the discomfort of having to get out of the car and allowing them to feel much more generous when it comes time for tipping). Now the difference between self and full serve, or at least one of them, is that full serve nozzles have a catch so that you can set the gasoline to pump and then let go of the handle to go do other stuff. With self serve, there is no catch, so you constantly have to be holding the nosal in order for gas to continue comming out. SO needless to say, I had two options, I can tell the handicapped lady that she has to wait for me to come back and continue pumping her gas, or I can wave to aknowledge the lady in full serve and signal that I will be thre as soon as I can.
I opt for the second option.
The lady stopped in full serve, waits a few seconds, then gets impatient and revs her engine. Not once, but twice. This is not cool. I would put this at the same level as raising your hand and snapping for service at a restaurant, just plain not cool.
Anyways, after the second rev, I'm looking in her direction, and she is giving me the "I'm waiting for YOU to get your ass over here" look. Although, I was not motivated to help her at this point, I did not go out of my way to be slow. I finished my transaction with the Handicapped lady, and headed over to impatient lady. And this is where things got interesting.
**side note, in order to save time, and hopefully clairity, I will abbreviate a sound the woman made several times with the Symbols *#* Dont ask me why I chose these, because there is no reason. But the sound the woman kept making was kind of a huff/sigh, like the sound you would expect a 16y/o girl to make as she is walking to the door to go to her boyfriends house and her parents tell her she has to vaccuum the living room before she is allowed to take the car.**
I greeted her, *#* she complained about how long it took me to get over to FULL SERVE!!! Asked for $10.
I asked "regular?", *#* 'yes.'
I asked her to turn her car off. *#*, she does.
I ask her for the key to her gas cap. She tells me its unlocked. (Although it clearly had a lock on it, it is entirley possible that it was unlocked). I tried to open it. It was locked. (keep in mind this is not really the cap, but the little hinged door that covers the gas cap)
I ask her if she has the key to unlock the gas cap, *#* she claims it doesnt usually need a key, and begins fiddling around with the buttons around the left side of her dash. No luck.
I ask if her ignition key opens the gas cap as well (quite frequently it does). *#*, she puts her key into the ignition and starts her car up (totally not what i meant) and she asks me if its unlocked not.
No, I answer. *#*
She suggests prying it open, because it should be unlocked.
I try, but sure enough, there is quite a catch, and there was no way I could get it off with my fingers and no way without damaging the car.
I ask to see her keys, with the hopes of finding the one that opens the cap. *#*
She takes her keys out of the ignition, takes off all the keys but the ignition key, and hands it to me. Perhaps I was going to run off with her keys and sell them on the black market, which leaves me wondering, who told her.
Since it obviously wasn't going anywhere else, I try the ignition key in the lock. Perfect fit.
I fill her gas, take her money, and she leaves. Thank God.
Regardless, I will get on with my story with the following assumptions 1)this lady is from cloverdale and therefore 2) is easily the stupidest person in Cloverdale.
Picture this, a beautiful summers day. Birds are chirping, the sun is shining, somewhere children are kiling tiny creatures with magnifying glases or gasoline.
Now into this picturesque environment, insert rusted out Honda (cue lightning strike).
This lady pulls into full serve, whilst I am aiding a handicapped women pump her gas (for people with certifiable disabilities (generally people with one of the little blue signs), our boss allows us to do full serve at a self serve stall, freeing them from the discomfort of having to get out of the car and allowing them to feel much more generous when it comes time for tipping). Now the difference between self and full serve, or at least one of them, is that full serve nozzles have a catch so that you can set the gasoline to pump and then let go of the handle to go do other stuff. With self serve, there is no catch, so you constantly have to be holding the nosal in order for gas to continue comming out. SO needless to say, I had two options, I can tell the handicapped lady that she has to wait for me to come back and continue pumping her gas, or I can wave to aknowledge the lady in full serve and signal that I will be thre as soon as I can.
I opt for the second option.
The lady stopped in full serve, waits a few seconds, then gets impatient and revs her engine. Not once, but twice. This is not cool. I would put this at the same level as raising your hand and snapping for service at a restaurant, just plain not cool.
Anyways, after the second rev, I'm looking in her direction, and she is giving me the "I'm waiting for YOU to get your ass over here" look. Although, I was not motivated to help her at this point, I did not go out of my way to be slow. I finished my transaction with the Handicapped lady, and headed over to impatient lady. And this is where things got interesting.
**side note, in order to save time, and hopefully clairity, I will abbreviate a sound the woman made several times with the Symbols *#* Dont ask me why I chose these, because there is no reason. But the sound the woman kept making was kind of a huff/sigh, like the sound you would expect a 16y/o girl to make as she is walking to the door to go to her boyfriends house and her parents tell her she has to vaccuum the living room before she is allowed to take the car.**
I greeted her, *#* she complained about how long it took me to get over to FULL SERVE!!! Asked for $10.
I asked "regular?", *#* 'yes.'
I asked her to turn her car off. *#*, she does.
I ask her for the key to her gas cap. She tells me its unlocked. (Although it clearly had a lock on it, it is entirley possible that it was unlocked). I tried to open it. It was locked. (keep in mind this is not really the cap, but the little hinged door that covers the gas cap)
I ask her if she has the key to unlock the gas cap, *#* she claims it doesnt usually need a key, and begins fiddling around with the buttons around the left side of her dash. No luck.
I ask if her ignition key opens the gas cap as well (quite frequently it does). *#*, she puts her key into the ignition and starts her car up (totally not what i meant) and she asks me if its unlocked not.
No, I answer. *#*
She suggests prying it open, because it should be unlocked.
I try, but sure enough, there is quite a catch, and there was no way I could get it off with my fingers and no way without damaging the car.
I ask to see her keys, with the hopes of finding the one that opens the cap. *#*
She takes her keys out of the ignition, takes off all the keys but the ignition key, and hands it to me. Perhaps I was going to run off with her keys and sell them on the black market, which leaves me wondering, who told her.
Since it obviously wasn't going anywhere else, I try the ignition key in the lock. Perfect fit.
I fill her gas, take her money, and she leaves. Thank God.
Saturday, June 26, 2004
High School 'Friends'
It amazes me how some people, now that we are beyond our high school years, think that is ok to simply forget that they spent five years ignoring my exsistence and then show up at a gas station two years after graduation and pretend that we were 'bestest friends' and then reminace (I don't know how to spell that word... so sue me) about all the fun times we had.
And you'd be surprised how much this happens.
People that wouldn't give me the time of day.
People that I had in numerous classes with in 8-12, but probibly still didn't know me by first name.
People who went out of their way to make me feel as unimportant as possible.
These are the people asking me how I'm doing, telling me I should give them a call so that we can "go hang out." Not that I ever would, I hope that some of them realize that I see through their pitiful attempts to patronize me.
"Oh how you've changed, Neal... I can barely recognise you" (thats because you have'nt talked to me since grade 7 grad, you stupid bag)
Of course I feed them my GSA smile, which they seem to feed off, like it makes my day that they recognise me. They get to leave thinking in some special way they've touched my heart.
I get to stay, thinking 'thank-God we carry peptobismal'
And you'd be surprised how much this happens.
People that wouldn't give me the time of day.
People that I had in numerous classes with in 8-12, but probibly still didn't know me by first name.
People who went out of their way to make me feel as unimportant as possible.
These are the people asking me how I'm doing, telling me I should give them a call so that we can "go hang out." Not that I ever would, I hope that some of them realize that I see through their pitiful attempts to patronize me.
"Oh how you've changed, Neal... I can barely recognise you" (thats because you have'nt talked to me since grade 7 grad, you stupid bag)
Of course I feed them my GSA smile, which they seem to feed off, like it makes my day that they recognise me. They get to leave thinking in some special way they've touched my heart.
I get to stay, thinking 'thank-God we carry peptobismal'
Naivity
Two apologies...
First, for not updating this blog in the last few days (I've been busy, im sure you could have guessed)
Second, for my creative (but undoubtably wrong) spelling of the word Naivity in this title...
Anyways, I just thought I'd add a few little something to make your day.
I was working a shift the other day with Amanda, and we spent the better part of two hours talking about the various parts of the job of GSA that really suck. And I don't mean the parts that we hate doing, simply the parts that make us loath comming into the store for our shift, or the parts that make us want to hit the magnetic door lock and curl up on the flor behind the counter and eat $.05 candies for 8 hours.
Anyways, as to be expected, we had a lot to talk about. Of course, never in front of the customers, that would be very bad.
As it turns out, we were approcahing the end of our shift, we were in the home stretch, the final hour. And we started discussing the joy that we would be experiencing with our release, and how great it would be to not have to work for at least 8 hours.
As we were about halfway through our little song and dance about how great things were gonna be in an hour, a customer walked in.
And afetr leistening to us celebrating, but without knowing what it was we were celebrating, he decided to inform us that he thinks it's great that two people can be so enthusiastic about working in the service industry, and that our cheerfulness really made his day.
I never said that this guy was an idiot, but I just thought that it was quite humourous... They can't all be interac ladies, you know!
First, for not updating this blog in the last few days (I've been busy, im sure you could have guessed)
Second, for my creative (but undoubtably wrong) spelling of the word Naivity in this title...
Anyways, I just thought I'd add a few little something to make your day.
I was working a shift the other day with Amanda, and we spent the better part of two hours talking about the various parts of the job of GSA that really suck. And I don't mean the parts that we hate doing, simply the parts that make us loath comming into the store for our shift, or the parts that make us want to hit the magnetic door lock and curl up on the flor behind the counter and eat $.05 candies for 8 hours.
Anyways, as to be expected, we had a lot to talk about. Of course, never in front of the customers, that would be very bad.
As it turns out, we were approcahing the end of our shift, we were in the home stretch, the final hour. And we started discussing the joy that we would be experiencing with our release, and how great it would be to not have to work for at least 8 hours.
As we were about halfway through our little song and dance about how great things were gonna be in an hour, a customer walked in.
And afetr leistening to us celebrating, but without knowing what it was we were celebrating, he decided to inform us that he thinks it's great that two people can be so enthusiastic about working in the service industry, and that our cheerfulness really made his day.
I never said that this guy was an idiot, but I just thought that it was quite humourous... They can't all be interac ladies, you know!
Tuesday, June 22, 2004
Mr Lotto
So, i am a firm believer that if you have an addiction, you should at least have the decency to be addicted correctly.
If you're an alcoholic, know all the ingredients to mix your drinks.
If you're a smoker, know what brand you like best and know it visually so as to help service clerks who do not smoke (especially if its an obscure brand).
And if your a gambler, like my next PIQ (person in question, that is), for God's sake, KNOW HOW TO BUY LOTTO!
There are two easy ways to buy lotto tickets.
1) (easiest) fill out your own form, provided at a counter in every lotto selling retailer. you choose your own numbers, your own plays, and everything to your own liking.
2) (only slightly less easy) ask the service clerk for the plays you want. If you want a double, three plays, no extra, the service clerk can provide for you a ticket which has three plays of 6 numebers plus a bonus for both the 6/49 and BC/49. If you want a 6 pack, the service clerk will provide for you 6 plays for the Super 7.
Now there is a slight problem with these two systems... They are, more or less, non interchangeable. If you fill out a card, we can not substitute the 47 for a 32. We can not skip the extra for a week. We cannot add an extra play on the ticket. And for the other way around, we can enter in personalised numers into the machine by hand, but the process makes it so time consuming that most people are not even taught how to do it.
Now that we have the background set up, as per usual, Il get on with my story.
A man comes into the store with his card of pre selected numbers (some people reuse the same cards because it contains "lucky numbers" -- which they have never won the jackpot with i'm sure-- which they hold a special attachemnt to for whatever reason).
Now, when he hands me his card, he says to me "6/49, no extra."
I run the card through and while I'm waiting for the ticket to print I'm making myself more and more confused thinking about his comment.
So, since I have nothing to loose, I ask him "Did you want the 6/49 no extra in addition to this ticket?"
He freaks out. "Why do you guys always ask me that, I want this [his card] on 6/49, no extra."
At this time, I am quite pissed off that he's yelling at me (this is after the piercing guy btw) and I decide I am going to make a stand and not let him leave without me being the winner of whatever argument he wanted to start.
"I was just checking to make sure that I was providing you with all the tickets you wanted, sir"
"All I want is this [his card] 6/49, no extra! Is that so hard?"
"Well sir, a lot of people will bring their ticket and then ask for additional tickets in the form of a quick pick"
"Well I don't care what other people want, I was just making sure you didn't mess it up"
"Sir, the card determines what it prints off, there is a YES box and a NO box for the extra, and if you only want 6/49 you check here"
"I did"
"Then why did you ask for a 6/49, no extra?"
"I didn't"
"Then what did you say"
"I wanted my card, 6/49, no extra"
"If you've used this card before and gotten the right ticket, why would you need to reiterate what you want?"
at this point, he left... without responding...
I take this as a personal victory =D
If you're an alcoholic, know all the ingredients to mix your drinks.
If you're a smoker, know what brand you like best and know it visually so as to help service clerks who do not smoke (especially if its an obscure brand).
And if your a gambler, like my next PIQ (person in question, that is), for God's sake, KNOW HOW TO BUY LOTTO!
There are two easy ways to buy lotto tickets.
1) (easiest) fill out your own form, provided at a counter in every lotto selling retailer. you choose your own numbers, your own plays, and everything to your own liking.
2) (only slightly less easy) ask the service clerk for the plays you want. If you want a double, three plays, no extra, the service clerk can provide for you a ticket which has three plays of 6 numebers plus a bonus for both the 6/49 and BC/49. If you want a 6 pack, the service clerk will provide for you 6 plays for the Super 7.
Now there is a slight problem with these two systems... They are, more or less, non interchangeable. If you fill out a card, we can not substitute the 47 for a 32. We can not skip the extra for a week. We cannot add an extra play on the ticket. And for the other way around, we can enter in personalised numers into the machine by hand, but the process makes it so time consuming that most people are not even taught how to do it.
Now that we have the background set up, as per usual, Il get on with my story.
A man comes into the store with his card of pre selected numbers (some people reuse the same cards because it contains "lucky numbers" -- which they have never won the jackpot with i'm sure-- which they hold a special attachemnt to for whatever reason).
Now, when he hands me his card, he says to me "6/49, no extra."
I run the card through and while I'm waiting for the ticket to print I'm making myself more and more confused thinking about his comment.
So, since I have nothing to loose, I ask him "Did you want the 6/49 no extra in addition to this ticket?"
He freaks out. "Why do you guys always ask me that, I want this [his card] on 6/49, no extra."
At this time, I am quite pissed off that he's yelling at me (this is after the piercing guy btw) and I decide I am going to make a stand and not let him leave without me being the winner of whatever argument he wanted to start.
"I was just checking to make sure that I was providing you with all the tickets you wanted, sir"
"All I want is this [his card] 6/49, no extra! Is that so hard?"
"Well sir, a lot of people will bring their ticket and then ask for additional tickets in the form of a quick pick"
"Well I don't care what other people want, I was just making sure you didn't mess it up"
"Sir, the card determines what it prints off, there is a YES box and a NO box for the extra, and if you only want 6/49 you check here"
"I did"
"Then why did you ask for a 6/49, no extra?"
"I didn't"
"Then what did you say"
"I wanted my card, 6/49, no extra"
"If you've used this card before and gotten the right ticket, why would you need to reiterate what you want?"
at this point, he left... without responding...
I take this as a personal victory =D
Piercing Lover
So, as everyone undoubtably knows (or maybe not), I like piercings. i currently have two non mainstream piercings: a lip and an industrial.
Now I realize that piercings are not for everyone, and I would never expect anyone to get piercings of their own for my sake. I also respect that many people have the opinion that piercings are bad, as I have had numerous people, that repected and still respect, tell me that with my lip ring I look more like a fish than a person.
But what seperates these people from my next idiot is that 1) I know these people and 2) the idiot was an ass about it
Let me begin my story.
I was working another long saturday afternoon, doing my weekly nine hour shift when a guy approaches the till. I would estimate his age to be about 23, but he had the classy cloverdale "I work on cars and roll around in pig manure for a living" look that we all know and love, so i may be off by a little. He was quite a bit larger then me, a normal analogy would be - I could eat people your size for breakfast- although its probibly more likely - I rape little girls your size at breakfast-.
I had watched him pump his gas (as we had several customers in the store at the time, but none at the till) and so when he approached the counter i knew exactly what he would be purchasing (unless he threw in some cigs as well, but that is a miniscule variable).
When I announced his price, he swore at me saying "You fucking retard!"...
"What?!?" I replied.
"What the fuck is that on your face"
"It's a lip ring, sir" I said.
"Guys don't wear facial jewelry!" he yelled at me
Thats when I decided that for my own sake I was just going to ignore him for the duration of the transaction.
He was muttering other things, but I was too busy ignoring him to hear them.
I just wish I had had the courage to say these next two things -->
Sir, if you are reading this, Body Modifications have been plastered all over our society over the last several years.
Besides, shouldn't you be home beating your wife for vacuuming while your watching WWE?
Now I realize that piercings are not for everyone, and I would never expect anyone to get piercings of their own for my sake. I also respect that many people have the opinion that piercings are bad, as I have had numerous people, that repected and still respect, tell me that with my lip ring I look more like a fish than a person.
But what seperates these people from my next idiot is that 1) I know these people and 2) the idiot was an ass about it
Let me begin my story.
I was working another long saturday afternoon, doing my weekly nine hour shift when a guy approaches the till. I would estimate his age to be about 23, but he had the classy cloverdale "I work on cars and roll around in pig manure for a living" look that we all know and love, so i may be off by a little. He was quite a bit larger then me, a normal analogy would be - I could eat people your size for breakfast- although its probibly more likely - I rape little girls your size at breakfast-.
I had watched him pump his gas (as we had several customers in the store at the time, but none at the till) and so when he approached the counter i knew exactly what he would be purchasing (unless he threw in some cigs as well, but that is a miniscule variable).
When I announced his price, he swore at me saying "You fucking retard!"...
"What?!?" I replied.
"What the fuck is that on your face"
"It's a lip ring, sir" I said.
"Guys don't wear facial jewelry!" he yelled at me
Thats when I decided that for my own sake I was just going to ignore him for the duration of the transaction.
He was muttering other things, but I was too busy ignoring him to hear them.
I just wish I had had the courage to say these next two things -->
Sir, if you are reading this, Body Modifications have been plastered all over our society over the last several years.
Besides, shouldn't you be home beating your wife for vacuuming while your watching WWE?
Saturday, June 19, 2004
Slurpee
So I'm going to take a short break from my usual ranting in order to tell a tale of my least favourite piece of machinary.
The Slurpee Machine!!!
You see, the slurpee machine is, as we preofessional GSA's call it, possessed by demons (this is the technical term). And not the cute ones like in Ghostbusters. These Machines are possessed by the spawn of Satan, the ultimate of ultimates, created and operated in the pure representation of Baalzebub himself.
Dr Faustus would have asked this slurpee machine for supreme powers in exchange for his soul.
To put into perspective how evil these two machines are, I shall give you but a glimpse of the inner workings of their evilness
For starters, they have a keen ability to predict the future. They have what is known as a "defrost cycle" which is used to keep the slurpee from getting to grainy. During this 10 minute cycle, the slurpee will go from the happy little soupy solid we all know and love into a very runny liquid syryp that is deprived of CO2 and is completely devoid of all the frozen goodness that is the slurpee. At the end of the cycle, it takes approximately 5 minutes to reach the desired consistency again.
This cycle will, without fail, start 3 minutes (give or take 2 minutes) prior to the arrival of a large population of slurpee consumers. I kid you not. If ytou want to know when there is a need for two people to be behind the till in order to get customers out in a timely fashion, you just have to wait until the slurpee machine beeps to tell you its going on a break and then wait a few minutes (and the amount of warning time is inversly proportionate to the temperature outside... if its 25C out, you have about 30 seconds to get ready).
The second worse part about the slurpee machine is their inane ability to tempt people.
There are little blippity buttons each of the slurpee machine nozzles. When anyone of the lights is beeping that means that there is something going on with the slurpee machine that prevents the nozzal in question from containing slurpee of the desired taste or texture. Sometimes its because the slurpees are on defrost, or they are out of syryp, or they felt like shutting off for a few minutes (for some reason they do that).
Regardless, as soon as those lights start to flash, ever person in the store has to line up for themselves to test the machine, as if they have the magic touch to bring it back to life.
There could be a crowd of 15 people standing around the slurpee machine, but I can bet you that 95% of them are gonna check to see if the slurpee machine had frozen in the 4 seconds since the last person tried it.
My final peeve about the slurpee machines is the slurpee itself. I dont know how much experience you (my readers) may have had with slurpees, but the syryp used in them is slightly more durable than the plastic coating they put on yaghts. I kid you not. Some days if you forget to wash the florr around the slurpee machine for, say, 30 minutes, the syryp becomes the super adhesive men have been searching for since the beginning of time. If you step in it, your leg is more likely to tear off your body then your shoe is to come off the floor. Worse yet, if you use the wrong kind of cleaner (Mr Clean is particularly bad for this) the chemicals react with the syrup and become a polymer, which then molecularly bonds with the floor. You no longer have tile and syrup, you now have what I affectionately like to call tilerup. Slightly more durable than diamonds, this stuff is not likely to come off the floor in this lifetime, although if I could find someway to extract this, i think it would look lovely on some sort of necklace or engagement ring...
The Slurpee Machine!!!
You see, the slurpee machine is, as we preofessional GSA's call it, possessed by demons (this is the technical term). And not the cute ones like in Ghostbusters. These Machines are possessed by the spawn of Satan, the ultimate of ultimates, created and operated in the pure representation of Baalzebub himself.
Dr Faustus would have asked this slurpee machine for supreme powers in exchange for his soul.
To put into perspective how evil these two machines are, I shall give you but a glimpse of the inner workings of their evilness
For starters, they have a keen ability to predict the future. They have what is known as a "defrost cycle" which is used to keep the slurpee from getting to grainy. During this 10 minute cycle, the slurpee will go from the happy little soupy solid we all know and love into a very runny liquid syryp that is deprived of CO2 and is completely devoid of all the frozen goodness that is the slurpee. At the end of the cycle, it takes approximately 5 minutes to reach the desired consistency again.
This cycle will, without fail, start 3 minutes (give or take 2 minutes) prior to the arrival of a large population of slurpee consumers. I kid you not. If ytou want to know when there is a need for two people to be behind the till in order to get customers out in a timely fashion, you just have to wait until the slurpee machine beeps to tell you its going on a break and then wait a few minutes (and the amount of warning time is inversly proportionate to the temperature outside... if its 25C out, you have about 30 seconds to get ready).
The second worse part about the slurpee machine is their inane ability to tempt people.
There are little blippity buttons each of the slurpee machine nozzles. When anyone of the lights is beeping that means that there is something going on with the slurpee machine that prevents the nozzal in question from containing slurpee of the desired taste or texture. Sometimes its because the slurpees are on defrost, or they are out of syryp, or they felt like shutting off for a few minutes (for some reason they do that).
Regardless, as soon as those lights start to flash, ever person in the store has to line up for themselves to test the machine, as if they have the magic touch to bring it back to life.
There could be a crowd of 15 people standing around the slurpee machine, but I can bet you that 95% of them are gonna check to see if the slurpee machine had frozen in the 4 seconds since the last person tried it.
My final peeve about the slurpee machines is the slurpee itself. I dont know how much experience you (my readers) may have had with slurpees, but the syryp used in them is slightly more durable than the plastic coating they put on yaghts. I kid you not. Some days if you forget to wash the florr around the slurpee machine for, say, 30 minutes, the syryp becomes the super adhesive men have been searching for since the beginning of time. If you step in it, your leg is more likely to tear off your body then your shoe is to come off the floor. Worse yet, if you use the wrong kind of cleaner (Mr Clean is particularly bad for this) the chemicals react with the syrup and become a polymer, which then molecularly bonds with the floor. You no longer have tile and syrup, you now have what I affectionately like to call tilerup. Slightly more durable than diamonds, this stuff is not likely to come off the floor in this lifetime, although if I could find someway to extract this, i think it would look lovely on some sort of necklace or engagement ring...
Thursday, June 17, 2004
Head Office
There is nothing so irritating as someone who makes it into the big leagues of a major corporation through a strict regiment of brown nosing and blow jobs.
Now I'm not saying that my current complaint is a prostitute, but it would appear that honesty and moral decency are not two of her strong points.
You see, we have a bitch from head office (I can now safely call her a bitch because 1) I'm sure she doesn't read this site 2) I don't need to work any more shifts with her and 3) I know what she's been telling my boss (not directly to my boss, but through the regional manager, I might add) about me)... anyways... She'd doing the last part of her training, in which she has to work three weeks as a GSA and learn as much as she can about our duties, responsibilities, and problems so that they can better understand where we are comming from when we call in with comaplaints/requests etc.
She is training at our store.
Now her primary duty is to do as much till work as possible, as that is primarily our job. There is no problem here, except that it means I have to find alternative things to do when she is working to keep myself busy (and there are only so many times you can mop the floors and windex the glass in an hour).
Well, it turns out I was doing a whole lot of things that she felt necissary to tell her superiors.
For example.
I was talking to Erin behind the counter (I started at 1pm, Erin finished at 1pm... the overlap of our shifts was exceptionally minimal, and she was (if I remember-- as this day seemed uneventful so i didnt store any of this into my long term memory) doing paper work (READ: not serving customers) when I was talking with her. (please also note that because I had not started my shift yet, and erin was wrapping up her shift (and you do not get paid if the paperwork takes you longer than your shift allows, neither of us were technically chatting on paid time)
Next is one thing that I will admit to being worng, but will not accept that she went to Head Office to complain about. I sat on the counter. At our gas station there is a counter which wraps around the till in a (sort of) U shape. on one end of the U, there is the tills, and the space where we serve the customers. On the other side is the lotto machine and a ledge which, conveniently, is the shape/size of my ass. I occasionally sit on it when my feet are tired, or there is nothing at the moment to do (out of respect, I stand whenever there is a customer in the store). Having 4 people on staff at the time (two regular workers, one assistant manager and one trainee) there wasn't a stone, thus far, left unturned, and I hopped up onto my perch for a few minutes. I don't know exactly what was said, but there is now a message in our internal communications book stating that if we are caught sitting up on the counter, we will be fired.
Next we have the infamous penny throwing incident. At our petro can, we have a policy that if you purchase something while on shift, you need to stand behind the counter and have another employee ring your purchase through (like you were an ordinary customer). One of our emplyess did just that. He had waited until there were no customers on the lot (let alone in the store) to make his purchase. I threw a penny at him. A single penny, with an underhand gesture. From the note chastising us for the complaint, you would think I was throwing bricks at the elderly amongst my sacrificing of kittens and listening to Led Zepplin records in reverse.
Finally, we have the instant where I snuck up behind Amanda and made her shriek. Amanda was not serving a guest; nor was I. Neither of us were doing anything dangerous that could have been disrupted by her surprise.
Im getting tired of typing, so I guess I'll close and ignore any complaints against other members of the staff.
Although I will admit that my actions as covered in this blog entry are not the most mature (or mature at all, really) the fact remains that I don't think they in any way hinder my ability to do my job, or my ability to do my job well.
With the three secret shoppers I have had in the last month I have recieved two 90% rating and one 100% rating. I have worked 9 hour shifts dealing with the types of customers charactorised by these blogs and have managed to (almost daily) end each shift with a smile on my face, my tasks completed to the best of my ability, and a following of protocol that has garnered me the aforementioned S-S ratings.
Although I do understand the need for seriousness in the workplace, I do note that my behavior is never directed towards customers, never hinders my ability to do my job, and has allowed me the privilage of being the proclaimed favourite coworker of three of the other eight non managerial employees at my gas station.
I guess there isn't really much else to say but "suck my cock too, bitch. there are plenty of positions I could put you in"...
(If only I could say that in real life...)
Now I'm not saying that my current complaint is a prostitute, but it would appear that honesty and moral decency are not two of her strong points.
You see, we have a bitch from head office (I can now safely call her a bitch because 1) I'm sure she doesn't read this site 2) I don't need to work any more shifts with her and 3) I know what she's been telling my boss (not directly to my boss, but through the regional manager, I might add) about me)... anyways... She'd doing the last part of her training, in which she has to work three weeks as a GSA and learn as much as she can about our duties, responsibilities, and problems so that they can better understand where we are comming from when we call in with comaplaints/requests etc.
She is training at our store.
Now her primary duty is to do as much till work as possible, as that is primarily our job. There is no problem here, except that it means I have to find alternative things to do when she is working to keep myself busy (and there are only so many times you can mop the floors and windex the glass in an hour).
Well, it turns out I was doing a whole lot of things that she felt necissary to tell her superiors.
For example.
I was talking to Erin behind the counter (I started at 1pm, Erin finished at 1pm... the overlap of our shifts was exceptionally minimal, and she was (if I remember-- as this day seemed uneventful so i didnt store any of this into my long term memory) doing paper work (READ: not serving customers) when I was talking with her. (please also note that because I had not started my shift yet, and erin was wrapping up her shift (and you do not get paid if the paperwork takes you longer than your shift allows, neither of us were technically chatting on paid time)
Next is one thing that I will admit to being worng, but will not accept that she went to Head Office to complain about. I sat on the counter. At our gas station there is a counter which wraps around the till in a (sort of) U shape. on one end of the U, there is the tills, and the space where we serve the customers. On the other side is the lotto machine and a ledge which, conveniently, is the shape/size of my ass. I occasionally sit on it when my feet are tired, or there is nothing at the moment to do (out of respect, I stand whenever there is a customer in the store). Having 4 people on staff at the time (two regular workers, one assistant manager and one trainee) there wasn't a stone, thus far, left unturned, and I hopped up onto my perch for a few minutes. I don't know exactly what was said, but there is now a message in our internal communications book stating that if we are caught sitting up on the counter, we will be fired.
Next we have the infamous penny throwing incident. At our petro can, we have a policy that if you purchase something while on shift, you need to stand behind the counter and have another employee ring your purchase through (like you were an ordinary customer). One of our emplyess did just that. He had waited until there were no customers on the lot (let alone in the store) to make his purchase. I threw a penny at him. A single penny, with an underhand gesture. From the note chastising us for the complaint, you would think I was throwing bricks at the elderly amongst my sacrificing of kittens and listening to Led Zepplin records in reverse.
Finally, we have the instant where I snuck up behind Amanda and made her shriek. Amanda was not serving a guest; nor was I. Neither of us were doing anything dangerous that could have been disrupted by her surprise.
Im getting tired of typing, so I guess I'll close and ignore any complaints against other members of the staff.
Although I will admit that my actions as covered in this blog entry are not the most mature (or mature at all, really) the fact remains that I don't think they in any way hinder my ability to do my job, or my ability to do my job well.
With the three secret shoppers I have had in the last month I have recieved two 90% rating and one 100% rating. I have worked 9 hour shifts dealing with the types of customers charactorised by these blogs and have managed to (almost daily) end each shift with a smile on my face, my tasks completed to the best of my ability, and a following of protocol that has garnered me the aforementioned S-S ratings.
Although I do understand the need for seriousness in the workplace, I do note that my behavior is never directed towards customers, never hinders my ability to do my job, and has allowed me the privilage of being the proclaimed favourite coworker of three of the other eight non managerial employees at my gas station.
I guess there isn't really much else to say but "suck my cock too, bitch. there are plenty of positions I could put you in"...
(If only I could say that in real life...)
Wednesday, June 16, 2004
Explaination Part Deux
This other one was pretty self explainatory, but since I made mention of it, I felt that this, too, should be explained with a little more detail.
You see, if you ever find that you are filling up a jerry-can and you put just a little too much in, the proper protocol may be to:
1) Offer the excess to another customer who is filling their tank
2) Put it in your own vehicle's tank (heck, you paid for it)
3) Drink it, and put the rest of us out of your misery
4) Pour it on yourself and light a match in order to accomplish the above.
The proper protocol IS NOT to pour the excess into the recycle bin next to the pump.
THIS IS A VERY DANGEROUS HABIT!
As I've said before, I often dont understand how action superceeds logic with some of these people.
Moreso, I dont understand how some of these people can still be in the breeding population. Darwin must be turning in his grave.
You see, if you ever find that you are filling up a jerry-can and you put just a little too much in, the proper protocol may be to:
1) Offer the excess to another customer who is filling their tank
2) Put it in your own vehicle's tank (heck, you paid for it)
3) Drink it, and put the rest of us out of your misery
4) Pour it on yourself and light a match in order to accomplish the above.
The proper protocol IS NOT to pour the excess into the recycle bin next to the pump.
THIS IS A VERY DANGEROUS HABIT!
As I've said before, I often dont understand how action superceeds logic with some of these people.
Moreso, I dont understand how some of these people can still be in the breeding population. Darwin must be turning in his grave.
Explaination
Since I mentioned it before, I figure I should elaborate a little, and introduce you to another form of idiot. We shall call him the Inconsiderate Parental Unit.
So you are filling up with gas, in fact you are finished filling up with gas, when you realize "I Don't have My Bank Card or Credit Card on me." So what do you do?
Some people like to drive off... this behavior is very frowned upon... Some people beg and plead... While this behavior is also frowned upon, watching people squirm has become a passtime of mine, and as such I've developed a soft spot. Now, although I would let you get off if you made yourself look particularly patheti-sad for the cameras (so I could have a permanent reminder of one of the reasons I stil work at a gas station), Company protocol requires that I obtain something of equal or greater value to the unpaid gasoline. Licenses and other forms of identification do not work, as we have stacks of them in a drawer from people who will "be right back."
That being said, most people will leave faceplates, or cell phones, or books of cd's, or various other things. But not our I.P.U. He goes straight for his wife's most valuable asset when he cannot pay for his $35 worth of gas. He leaves his young child.
Its as simple as that. Child, in a gas station so dad can run home. That would be a great bed time story for the Child Care Workers, I would think.
But he did come back, and in good time too.
So you are filling up with gas, in fact you are finished filling up with gas, when you realize "I Don't have My Bank Card or Credit Card on me." So what do you do?
Some people like to drive off... this behavior is very frowned upon... Some people beg and plead... While this behavior is also frowned upon, watching people squirm has become a passtime of mine, and as such I've developed a soft spot. Now, although I would let you get off if you made yourself look particularly patheti-sad for the cameras (so I could have a permanent reminder of one of the reasons I stil work at a gas station), Company protocol requires that I obtain something of equal or greater value to the unpaid gasoline. Licenses and other forms of identification do not work, as we have stacks of them in a drawer from people who will "be right back."
That being said, most people will leave faceplates, or cell phones, or books of cd's, or various other things. But not our I.P.U. He goes straight for his wife's most valuable asset when he cannot pay for his $35 worth of gas. He leaves his young child.
Its as simple as that. Child, in a gas station so dad can run home. That would be a great bed time story for the Child Care Workers, I would think.
But he did come back, and in good time too.
Tuesday, June 15, 2004
What to do When Your Car Catches Fire
Now, near as I can gather this happens far less frequently as portrayed in Hollywood movies, but happens none-the-less. With such an intricate set of moving parts set around the combustion of some very volitile organic substances, it does not surprise me that something could inevitably fail, producing flames and smoke and what have you.
Now common sense would have you know that if your car begins to smoke, and you think it may have caught on fire, and you do not have the proper safety devices in order to extinguish the fire, you should do two things:
1) Park the car some place safe
2) Remove your self a safe distance until emergency personel are able to extinguish the blaze for you.
Our next idiot was able to do only one of those.
Now, I don't know about you, but should I ever start driving, and I suspect my vehicle is on fire, I would much rather pull my car into a crowd of Nuns and Orphans then pull it into an 8 pump gas station filled with people pumping gas.
Now let me just point out the stupidity in its full form. He didn't just pull into the gass station, he pulled into the centre pump... heres a map of our pumps: numbered for east reference-- x's making the location of the burning car, r's making the path he took into the lot...
__________________________________________
Street
__________________________________________
...r.......--------Fence-------------------
...r.......................................
...rrrrr...................................
.......rrrrrrrr............................
..............rrrr.........................
.........[--]....rr...[--]..................
.........1--2.....xx5--6..................
.........[--]......xx[--]..................
....................xx.......................
...........................................
.........[--]........[--]..................
.........3--4.......7--8..................
.........[--]........[--]..................
Thats where he left his burning car!
Once more, he didnt inform anyone his car was on fire... He just got out of his car, checked the hood to see that it was infact burning, and then started running down the street to safety.
Now common sense would have you know that if your car begins to smoke, and you think it may have caught on fire, and you do not have the proper safety devices in order to extinguish the fire, you should do two things:
1) Park the car some place safe
2) Remove your self a safe distance until emergency personel are able to extinguish the blaze for you.
Our next idiot was able to do only one of those.
Now, I don't know about you, but should I ever start driving, and I suspect my vehicle is on fire, I would much rather pull my car into a crowd of Nuns and Orphans then pull it into an 8 pump gas station filled with people pumping gas.
Now let me just point out the stupidity in its full form. He didn't just pull into the gass station, he pulled into the centre pump... heres a map of our pumps: numbered for east reference-- x's making the location of the burning car, r's making the path he took into the lot...
__________________________________________
Street
__________________________________________
...r.......--------Fence-------------------
...r.......................................
...rrrrr...................................
.......rrrrrrrr............................
..............rrrr.........................
.........[--]....rr...[--]..................
.........1--2.....xx5--6..................
.........[--]......xx[--]..................
....................xx.......................
...........................................
.........[--]........[--]..................
.........3--4.......7--8..................
.........[--]........[--]..................
Thats where he left his burning car!
Once more, he didnt inform anyone his car was on fire... He just got out of his car, checked the hood to see that it was infact burning, and then started running down the street to safety.
Crack Fiend
So, as I'm sure you have realized in the last 10 or so minutes it has taken you to read all my posts thus far, that I deal with a lot of stupid people. A LOT! Now, there is a level of stupidity that goes over and above ignorances, and seems to defy all common sense.
Now, being that I work at a gas station in surrey (eww surrey), I also get the joy of working with a lot of burnout/crack-fiends. Now a lot of burnouts/crack-fiends are simply people that made very poor lifestyle choices and are stuck with the concequences, often a decreased mental capacity,and/or an inability to connect action to consequence. My next idiot, although probibly not helped by his addictions, most likely suffered from the two former problems long before he touched any narcotic.
You see, he was pumping his car with his engine running. Although, this can be done without problems many times, the chances of explosion are severly increased, so much so that it is universal gas station policy to require cars be shut down to pump gas.
Now, I wouldn't have even noticed, had a customer/former employee notified me of the possible catastrophey in the making. So doing what any knowlegable GSA would do, I turned off his pump. to stop the flow of gasoline.
When he came inside, I informed him that he would need to turn off his ignition before I would be willing to allow him to complete his fill.
He proceeded to inform me of his vast knowledge of four letter words, inform me that his car would not restart if he turned it off due to a uncharged battery, inform me that his years on this planet exceeded my own, inform me as to the promiscuity of my mother and to her working in the sex trade, and inform me that he didn't give a fuck what i thought.
I informed him that despite all of the things that he had just taught me, that I would not start his pump up again until he complied. He, obviously pissed off, went back to his car and turned it off. Now I'm not sure if it was the fact that I had won, or the fact that he was obviosly an easy exploder (and, as the f.employee/customer pointed out, had a 6" blade tucked into his belt) but I allowed him to pump the rest of my gas.
and I let Geoff (the guy working with me, not the f.employee/customer) handle the till when the guy had finished pumping his gas.
Now, being that I work at a gas station in surrey (eww surrey), I also get the joy of working with a lot of burnout/crack-fiends. Now a lot of burnouts/crack-fiends are simply people that made very poor lifestyle choices and are stuck with the concequences, often a decreased mental capacity,and/or an inability to connect action to consequence. My next idiot, although probibly not helped by his addictions, most likely suffered from the two former problems long before he touched any narcotic.
You see, he was pumping his car with his engine running. Although, this can be done without problems many times, the chances of explosion are severly increased, so much so that it is universal gas station policy to require cars be shut down to pump gas.
Now, I wouldn't have even noticed, had a customer/former employee notified me of the possible catastrophey in the making. So doing what any knowlegable GSA would do, I turned off his pump. to stop the flow of gasoline.
When he came inside, I informed him that he would need to turn off his ignition before I would be willing to allow him to complete his fill.
He proceeded to inform me of his vast knowledge of four letter words, inform me that his car would not restart if he turned it off due to a uncharged battery, inform me that his years on this planet exceeded my own, inform me as to the promiscuity of my mother and to her working in the sex trade, and inform me that he didn't give a fuck what i thought.
I informed him that despite all of the things that he had just taught me, that I would not start his pump up again until he complied. He, obviously pissed off, went back to his car and turned it off. Now I'm not sure if it was the fact that I had won, or the fact that he was obviosly an easy exploder (and, as the f.employee/customer pointed out, had a 6" blade tucked into his belt) but I allowed him to pump the rest of my gas.
and I let Geoff (the guy working with me, not the f.employee/customer) handle the till when the guy had finished pumping his gas.
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