RETURN OF THE BLOG
Welcome friends and strangers to the critically acclaimed Return of the Blog, a series of log entries that will give you, the reader complete uncensored access to the life that is Coyoteman.
I woke up as usual and clocked in to my job at Borders. I was a little apprehensive because I forgot to eat something before I came in but I put it behind me and started the grind. It was only supposed to be a 4 hour shift so I thought to myself, what could go wrong in four hours to which the universe responded by throwing me everything.
I was at the register helping out this old lady ring up her stuff. She’s already on my shit list in the first 10 seconds because instead of standing directly in front of my register, she insists on standing to the register to my right meaning now instead of just sticking my arm forward to take her money I now have to stretch my arm to Reed Richards type level of proportions or walk to that side, get the money and then walk back to my side. Not a big deal, but it was her first offense.
The second came when I handed her credit card back to her. Apparently I gave her the card the wrong way to which she educated me that during the holiday seasons someone could look at her card number and steal her identification. I reassured her that no one was looking and that she would be fine but she continued on her paranoid rant about how during the holiday season people are taking extra care to steal other people’s identities. No wanting to be bested by her paranoia, I continue to tell her that no one was paying attention to us and that her identity was safe. She then tells me that Clark Howard was the source of her almighty knowledge of credit card identification. Then her attitude gets very uppity and says to me “You do know who Clark Howard is don’t you?”
In my mind, that’s her 3rd strike and shes 1 offense away from a “fuck you.” I need my job and I don’t want to lose it over this hag so I tell her yes, I know who Clark Howard is and do my best to hurry up and bag her shit so I can get on with my life. After I’m done bagging and putting her receipt in the bag, I tell her shes free to go. But no, that’s too easy. Now this ho asks me if I can bring the bag to her. So instead of her sliding her ass 3 paces to the left to pick up her shit, she wants me to come to her. It was at this point that I knew that I had a true ass hole on my hands thus the game began.
I knew she had me beat in this request so in order to make myself feel like less of a slave, instead of directly walking over, I decided to triple bag all her shit, just so it would take longer. Then, even though I only had to walk 3 paces from my register to the next to give it to her, I made sure to walk veeeeerry slooooowly just to make her wait longer. At this point I’m thinking game over. NOPE. Now after barely looking through the bag, she decides she can’t find her receipt and wants me to get it for her. I mildly use my index and middle finger to gently leaf through her bag, as if it were a piece of garbage. When I saw the receipt I told her where it was and she got it out.
This was a critical moment in the battle, and with no other angle at her disposal to annoy me with she began to walk away. But before she could leave, I shout out to her, giving her the ol one two “are you sure you have everything? Can I help you with anything else? “ because every passive aggressive argument ends with as many compliments as you can throw out at the last minute.
My next experience was a god send in comparison. One of my co-workers was trying to help this lady compare and contrast two study bibles she was planing on getting for her friend. After trying his best, the customer asked the coworker if there was a bible scholar in the store that could help her with her problem. I, despising the bible much more than the av-er-age bear decided “what the hell” and volunteered as the resident bible scholar of Borders. After a few rudimentary checks comparing the books, things that any idiot could do such as a page count and quick thumb through of the table of contents, I advised her to purchase the more expensive of the books.
After thanking me with all her heart and giving me praises from the all high, she exits the store leaving us both satisfied. Because at this moment I re-remeber how I’ve always wanted to be a false prophet and this was just a small taste of what the life of false prophecy had to offer. To get genuine thanks and well wishes from people when in reality you hate everything it is in which they believe. To cusp all their hopes and dreams in the palm of your hand, with the freedom to caress or crush at your whim.
I know a lot of you are probably looking down on me now, casting your stones and what not. But don’t judge me, the lord says not to.