Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Don't mess with my minions

I'm a people lover. No, really. I enjoy social interaction and just being around new and interesting people. But the fact is that I see the same old faces every day. This is the problem with working in a small town liquor store.

I don't drink like before. In my youth, I would drink myself stupid. Often. And with varying degrees of success. It's a known fact to all that I come from a family of alcoholics. I've been aware of this fact since early childhood. But that didn't stop me from forming a deep personal relationship with bourbon. And vodka. And occasionally rum. Chase those with a few beers and you have the recipe for my college years.

I've managed to temper myself in my old age and limit my drinking voluntarily. I really don't miss it. Now I still have a few drinks for occasions and sometimes just because, but it's now not a regular visitor to my days.

(Geez! Get to the point already. Enough drivel!)

My point (ahem*) is that I routinely come in contact with people that are much like myself in 1987. That is, drunk and disorderly and terribly annoying. Hell, they are how I make my living. These drunks (both professional and amateur) are for the most part affable and occasionally entertaining.

This past week (which shall be dubbed The Week That Crazy Ran Rampant In These Here Parts)was full of the annoying and obnoxious variety. We had a Seinfeldian Close-Talker, a Drama-Sharer (ummm, no thank you, you can have it all back) and assorted crybabies. And then the mother-of-all asshats. A total and complete fucktard.

A little backstory...the law recently changed in this state and now anyone purchasing liquor that appears to be under 50 years of age must show ID to purchase alcohol. The law here has always stated that you must be able to present ID at anytime that you wish to purchase alcohol. As part of some task force to reduce under-age drinking, these laws are now being more strictly monitored. And as a little incentive to make sure, the penalty for serving someone under-age or WITHOUT ID has changed from a fine to a Class B misdemeanor.

Now, I truly like my customers. Reallly, I do. Some of them are really good friends. But carding a fifty year old construction worker is not one of my favorite things to do. It has caused the bitching to commence, folks. Lordy, the whining that I have had to listen to lately. Grown men and women are dealing out a ration of shit to all my employees FOR FOLLOWING THE LAW. Cue last Friday night...

Loyal Employee: "Your total is $. And I need to see some ID, please."

Local Fucktard: "Are you f*cking kidding me? I've been coming in this store for 20 years and I'm not showing anything to some worthless c*** who doesn't know how to do her job. Just give my m-f'ing beer!"

Loyal Employee: "I'm sorry sir, but the law has changed and I must ask for ID now. I understand your inconvenience but I cannot risk losing my job."

Local Fucktard: "I'm calling your boss and telling her what a dumb*ss she hired.

Loyal Employee: "Would you like me to dial the number for you?"

At this point the asshat left the building and hasn't been heard from since. I have counciled the loyal employee on how to deal with insensitive bastards and identified the jackass from camera tapes. I WILL be dealing with this person, 'cause no one messes with my minions but me.


Anonymous said...

The first time I have laughed out loud at the written word happened a few minutes ago when you said that your ex probably thought Cinco De Mayo was a day for eating mayo out of the sink. OH MY GAAAWWWD..... I am still smiling. You rock Dawn. Cannot wait to read your book and see you on Ellen! Jack

Dawn said...

Hello sugarbritches. Honest, he truly is the person I describe. How I could have lived for 15 years with a man that pronounces the number on the kids schoolbus (3SP) as "thareesp" is beyond me. But then again, he's the one that backed into our mailbox--while we were watching--and drove away (wait for it....) to take our daughter to the DMV for her learner's permit. Even she "knew" he should have stopped.
Anyhoo, thanks for stopping by, Mr. Anonymous. I promise not to tell the mob where witness protection placed you. Much loves!

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