PART 3: 5 WAYS TO A QUICKER DEATH AT THE CHECKOUT

Justin sets aside even more of his valuable time to do something he always loves to do: make even more people feel as badly about themselves as he can

When I first sat down in my manager’s office almost 10 years ago, and explained to her why I should be hired and how I would make a valuable addition to her “team,” I calmly but emphatically explained, on top of being great with people, getting a sense for a person and understanding what they might need, that I was the most patient person I’d ever met, and all of these facts coalesced into me being a tremendous retail associate.

Fast forward all these years, and it’s all still true. I’m the best goddamn retail associate I know. The only difference? I just secretly hate these customers more and more than I used to.

And it is exactly this world weariness I have shared with you time and again, dear reader, the culmination of which you are about to enjoy and embark on a journey for which you will find no lack of gumption, conviction and verisimilitude!

I proudly present the final, triumphant piece to conclude the most epic trilogy of ranting satire every conceived! The pièce de résistance in my finest line of work yet! The Crown Jewel in my development as a comedic writer!

I give you… My masterpiece!

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The Crime: 1st Degree Criminal Phone Use

Nothing really says, “you’re just the help and you’re here to act as my personal slave while I treat you with a mild neglect as you ring through my items and bag them, because this call is clearly too important for me to just put on hold while you service me,” quite like someone who’s on the phone the entire time you’re attending to them. It’s about as demeaning as someone can get, short of telling you you’re unimportant, a failure at life, they make more money than you, you aren’t worth their time, and that you were adopted and your parents kept it from you, all while dealing with you in the absolute most minute capacity they possibly can muster.

News Flash, Asshole! This isn’t my only job! I make $40/hr doing commissioned paintings, FOR FUN, while earning a 4-figure a week salary at my primary place of employment!  Do you make that much? No? Then promptly, kindly, and very sincerely, go fuck yourself with that cell phone, you self-important, self-centered, magnanimous piece of shit! You judge me, because I work in retail, then you get The Haymaker. No exceptions!

In talking to those I work with, those who’ve been in similar positions in similar retail ventures, it’s unanimous straight across the board: people hate waiting on someone who’s on the phone. Unless there’s a kidnapper with your child reading you their ransom demands, the President himself, or a surgeon talking you through how to save someone’s life while you do so, then get off phone when you get into my line. Otherwise I’ll cram it down your throat myself.

The Sentence Is: Death by telephone. If there is one thing, one SINGLE thing, that I love in this world,  it is definitely Coca-Cola. However, a fairly close second would probably be “poetic irony.” Just think of it: every time someone comes through your line babbling into their cell phone, they’re automatically brought to a labyrinth rife with deadly traps and perilous dangers, blindfolded, and the only way they can get out is if you guide them, from the other end of the telephone. It’s almost TOO good! Will you talk them into a precipice? Send them into a pack of voracious aardvark? Let them tumble into a hallway of flamethrowers? Oh, siiigh…

Just try not to have too much fun!

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The Crime: Unlawful Use of Welfare

Let me preface this entire section by saying I am in no way, shape, or form trying to inject any sort of political beliefs of my own into this article by remarking on the welfare system. Personally, I do believe drug testing should be mandatory for anyone receiving benefits, but that’s as far as I’ll go. That being said, if you go into a store, chattin’ it up on your brand new iPhone, with a BMW keyring dangling from your keys, then pay for a $10 jar of organic honey with your EBT card and then buy a pack of cigarettes with a $20 bill? Well, I don’t wanna say, “I’d push you off a cliff,” but I most certainly wouldn’t be diving to save your ass if you suddenly lost your footing.

Just like any good thing in this world, the welfare system, which is in place to help those in legitimate and desperate need, is taken advantage of by those who want to take a shortcut or two just to help ease the burden of earning their keep. Ya know, like the rest of us.

Are you kidding me?

Is there a lowlier type of human being than these ingrates? I work my ass off, earning an honest living, in a retail world and elsewhere by working for my family and myself, and haven’t accepted any sort of state aid for myself even though I’ve desperately needed it in the past, and this asshole is paying for his groceries on my dime while helping himself to cigarettes and other treasures in abundance? A state-of-the-art smart phone? Luxury cars? This asshole needs a good ol’ fashioned dose of electroshock therapy… For starters…

Enjoy that organic honey, asshole. I’m paying for it, afterall.

The Sentence Is: Death by impending starvation. People who stand above others and shit on them while they do don’t deserve the benefit of the doubt, and don’t deserve mercy while we’re sentencing them accordingly.

In this instance, everyone who abuses the system will be sentenced to watch those they abused live I opulence. All the everyday working folk who slave away at dead end jobs to feed their families and keep food on the table will be gifted the excess food these douchers would have gotten with their state aid, and they get to enjoy it while these welfare abusers watch in abysmal, emaciated agony.

Dark? Sure. Disturbing? Perhaps. Deserving? Absolutely! Try to remember: these people are living large and comfortably off of YOUR hard work and sacrifice. Some people are just plain assholes and should be treated as such. So, let’s do what we have to, play the part of morally superior, and wipe those assholes!

Did I force that one? Maybe, yeah. What can I say? I can be a hemorrhoid.

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The Crime: Abiding Fictional Ransom Demands

There are moments in life you just have to take a step back and stare in awe. Things you didn’t think could ever happen. Things that, by all rights, should never happen. No matter how hard you work, how hard you try, how wide you smile, it will never be enough for some people. You’ll offer any help you can, try and check their items out in the timeliest fashion possible, but it’s not enough. “This store’s always dirty,” or “There’s never enough registers open here,” or “I can never find what I want here,” or “I always spend way too much money here,” or some other comment that’s meant purely to dig at you. Hey, ya know what? DON’T SHOP HERE THEN, YOU MISERABLE, WASPY BITCH! Like, W-T-Fuck?! Should I donate one of my kidneys to you, just for good measure? See if you finally leave the store satisfied? TOO BAD! It’s MY kidney! I NEED IT! YOU CAN’T HAVE IT!

Seriously. Any time someone cops an attitude like this or throws out a barb like that, I just want to ask, “hey, where do you work? So I can come in there and ruin your day for you, too?” Because that’s ALL it is: they’re unhappy and want to make someone else feel badly, too. That’s it. These types of people weren’t hugged enough as children. Either that, or weren’t beaten hard enough by their parents. More likely a toss up between the two. Even though I’m pulling for the latter. In which case, I’m more than happy to pick up the slack.

Case in point: if you’re going to complain, at least let me take the time to fix it for you, otherwise keep it to yourself, or don’t come in at all, because I don’t care how busy you are, how late you are, how important you think your time is, if you’re just going to bitch for the sake of bitching, I’m going to stab you just for the sake of stabbing you.

Maybe. Try me and we’ll find out.

The Sentence Is: Death by preemptive eugenics. At first, I toyed with the idea of letting them continue on in their miserable existence, scraping by without an ounce of happiness, but I realized that meant they’d continue on making the rest of us miserable, and that’s what I’m here to fix! So, I determined we need to suss out this problem at the source. We need to nix these wasp-y little turds before they can grow into wasp-y shitheads. That’s right! I’m talking about eugenics! When they’re born we’ll put them into the Asshole-O-Meter15000 that I’m currently developing, and if they score anywhere between “Ignorant Douche” and “Hypocritical Twat,” it’s over the cliff they go!

What?! Don’t look at me all judgementally! It worked wonders for the ancient Greeks! And the Nazis!

Um… wow.

Ok, point taken.

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The Crime: Failure to Enter the 21st Century

Really? A check? No one pays by check anymore, you prehistoric twat. Get with the times. All you’re doing is holding up the line with your goddamn check-writing nonsense, Mr. and Mrs. Flintstone. In fact, I’ll help you out with this one by giving you a checklist to get yourself up to speed, ok?

1. __ Go to your bank.

2. __Get a debit card.

3. __ Play in traffic.

If you skipped straight to number three and ignored the first two, I wouldn’t be upset with you.

Honest.

The Sentence Is: Death by dinosaur. In honor of their inability to emerge from the stone age, I thought it would appropriate to have them contend with a denizen of their own time that I’m sure they’re quite familiar with: Dreadnoughtus schrani! Let’s let these fools try and survive the 85-foot long, 130,000 pound behemoth!

A little piece of plastic doesn’t seem like such a burden now, does it?

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The Storytellers

For me, and in my opinion, which is the best there is, there’s just nothing worse than someone rambling or trailing off when all you asked is a simple question. I’m just here to bag your groceries, not be your therapist.

“Do you have your Reward’s card?”

“No, I left it out in the car with my mother and two brothers and three sisters and my little pomeranian, Rex, because it’s below 64° outside which means if I don’t leave the heat on then my mother’s bowels will–“

Ok! Ok! I got it! All I needed was a simple, “no.” It’s not a complicated thing. “Yes” or “no,” that’s all I needed, and you couldn’t even handle that. Big surprise.

And for Zeus’ sake, keep it short and sweet, please. Please! It’s actually really nice to have a quick little chat sometimes, if it’s not insanely busy, about what you’re making for dinner, something interesting that happened to you, the game, the weather, whatever. But I don’t need to hear about how you’re now living with your mother whom you didn’t really know your entire life and how difficult it’s going to be on you because the rest of your family just wanted to put her in a home but you just couldn’t bear to do that even though she left you and your siblings when you were younger and blah-blah-fuckin’-blah, GET OUT OF MY FACE!!! I don’t need to hear your entire life’s story here, Tolkien! I’m not getting paid by the word! Now get your groceries and get the hell out! Now! And if you hold up my line any longer by standing there at the end of the register and continuing to talk to me while I’m trying to wait on the next customer, I’m going to roundhouse your ass. Chuck Norris style: no hesitation and extreme prejudice.

The Sentence Is: Death by firing squad. Yup. That’s it. These douche bags don’t deserve anything elaborate or even funny. Just shoot these motherfuckers and get it other with.

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And there you have it! One of the greatest writing accomplishments of my entire life, 10 years in the making! I hope you guys enjoyed reading it and following along as much as I enjoyed writing it! And if you laughed at it, loathed it or loved it, I’d love to hear about it, so make sure to leave me a comment saying so! And, best of all, make sure to let me know what other crimes I may have missed that should go punished!

Thank you so much

 

Sourced from totally-biased.com