Holy shit, guys. Four days til Christmas. When the hell did that happen? So I have a bunch of stuff that's just accumulated over the past week that I feel like sharing with y'all. Strap in.
Last Thursday, I was at work and it was maybe 7 o'clock, so pretty close to the end of my shift. And this family comes in and they're one of the few African American families that comes through Mt. Royal-- That's what is is if you're part of a minority in the upper, mostly Scandanavian/Central European, mid west of the Americas. And the family consists of a mom with her three, very young children, and her mother. On Thursday night, mom came through with her two little boys first and Grandma was in line after her with her little girl. And the little boys are swatting at each other and yelling at each other and mom's obviously had a long day, so she kind of snaps at them to stop whacking at each other. And they do...for a minute. And she's just so apologetic to me and I think it's adorable so I'm not bothered. And I give each of the boys a sheet of holiday stickers cos that's what we do around the holidays at Mt. Royal Fine Foods. Whatever. And then Grandma comes through and the little girl won't stop touching the small little gift items that we have up on the front of the registers. And Grandma's like, "Stop touching everything!" and blah blah blah. Normal child discipline talk. So I give her the receipt for her stuff and she thanks me, says "have a good night" and leaves with the rest of her family. I love them. They are the sweetest people ever.
So then I turn to the woman who was in line after them and do my "hi! how are you doing?" shpil and she sets her basket on the little ledge and says, "Do they come through here often?" And I'm not really thinking too much of it and I say, "Not really." And then this woman says, "I just don't see how they can afford it." My brain was like, "WAIT A MINUTE!!" But the rest of me was like: say nothing yet... So she kept going. "Did you see how her children were behaving? And they just didn't stop? And she just yelled at them? That's just like those people." And she just went on like that, berating the perfectly normal family. Here's something else to note about this racist whore: She was telling me all of this like I was about to go ahead and agree with her. Like everyone feels this way. So I hand her her receipt and I was like, "Have a good night ma'am. And don't come through my line again." She was like, "Excuse me?" And I said, "Ma'am, I am appalled that you hold such archaic ideas about people in this day and age and I'm even more disgusted that you shared them with me in the casual way that you did. And I want you to know that I will not serve you if you come here." "Well I will be having a chat with your manager." Said the bitch. "Go for it. Have a good night." I bade her farewell and I was pissed for another few minutes.
Racists sons of bitches.
And near the end of my shift, same day, this guy, maybe in his thirties came through and bought some stuff. And then his mother came through. And she was a nightmare. "Timmy, you need more money. Timmy, you need a better job, then you'd have more money. No wonder you're so bummed out all the time." And she was saying all of this while looking right at me. And then she kept saying things like, "Tell him that he can't work at a garage his whole life. Tell him. Tell him that he needs to step up in life." TO ME!! Telling me this shit!! It was wildly inappropriate and I said nothing. But then this lady starts enthusiastically writing a check for her groceries and she hands it to me and says, "Tell me who's on the check! Tell me who's on the check!!" while doing this weird, wrist flapping thing with her hand at me. So I look at her check and I'm thinking she means the names in the upper left corner, so I say, "Um. Bonnie and Gary?" And she's like, "NO! Look at the picture!!" And I was like, "What the fuck? What picture? I see no picture." So I look at it again and I seriously had to squint. And in the middle of this pastel cloud-colored check was this practically translucent picture of Jesus. "Jesus." Say I. And she gets all excited like, "Yes! Yes, it's Jesus. I got Jesus on my checks because it's almost Jesus' birthday!" It took everything I had not to tell the crazy bitch that Jesus was born in the fall. There's proof, really. But I just gave her her slip and she left with Timmy and I was just about ready to walk into traffic.
Why do I always get the crazies in my line? Every time. Like today when this lady, oldish, maybe 60, came through my like and she...first, let me tell you what this bitch looked like. Crazy covers it. But she had her bangs clipped up with a weird little barrette and the rest of her hair was in like three other little pony tails....I guess because she had biked to the store and she had to keep her hair out of her face, but come on! She looked ridiculous. And she had her pants tucked into these huge wool socks and she had some crazy bush baby eyes going on. I mean, she was born with those, but it just completed the image. Any way, she throws her bicycle bags at the end of my register and tells whoever my bagger was that that she wanted to bag her own. So he leaves and then she says, "I have a question about your gift cards. It says that they're not credit or debit cards," "Yes." I said. "And you can't use them anywhere else?" "Nope." I said. "And you can put as much money on them as you want?" Yes," I said, beginning to wonder where this "question" was going. "And there's no way to track it?" "Nope." "So how do you know if it's a stolen card?" "I guess we don't know if it's a stolen card." And she nods and then says, "So then why wouldn't you just give a person money instead of a gift card?"
So that was nice. And then she took another twenty minutes at the end of my register to pack up all of her shit. And it wasn't like she got a couple boxes of cereal, some oranges and a half gallon of milk. OH NO! This bitch bought almost $150 of shit. And she was trying to fit them all in her two stupid little bicycle bags. How stupid is this bitch? Whatever. I ignored the shit out of her after her transaction was done.
Then later, this older guy comes through and bosses my bagger around and then says, "Do you know what day it is?" "The twenty first," I say. "And what's special about the twenty first?" he asked me. I had to think about it for a minute and then I was like, "It's the solstice?" "Right." He said. "Tonight's when the little hobgoblins come out. Watch your step." And then he left and I was kind of terrified! HOBGOBLINS!! What the fuck?! Then Rick appeared and said that the guy was super incredibly rich and he's this crazy piano virtuoso and now I want to be the guy's friend. He just needs to leave the hobgoblins behind.
I work on Christmas Eve. I'm not really stoked. Not because I have to work in general, but because my shift starts at eight in the fucking morning. It's still dark at eight in the morning, I think! That's bullshit. But whatever. I get to open presents and eat cinnamon buns and watch football the next day. Packers play the Bears on Christmas day and all I want is for my boys to win.
American Horror Story is over as of...like four minutes ago. For a finale...Guys, I just don't know how I feel about this one. It was a weird series to begin with, right? Ghosts and crazies and shit. And for the first few episodes, you don't know if the ghosts are ghosts or people...it's weird. But I think I have a pretty good idea as to where the second season is going to go, if they get picked up for another season, which they probably will because it's been nominated for a Best Drama Golden Globe and Jessica Lange has been nominated for Best Supporting Actress in a Drama or something. I don't know.
Today was Haley's last day at work. I'm going to miss our shenanigans. But I'll see her at school a bunch. Oh, I'm done with this semester, by the way. I finished yesterday at noon twenty-ish. It was okay. I walked out of every final feeling like a useless fuck, but apparently that's how it always goes for people. And Emilie's packing up her stuff to move out tomorrow morning. I feel like I should say something or give her a card or a hug or something, but I really don't know what I'd say or do or whatever. See how awful I am? I don't know why I have friends.