June 07, 2004

GREASEBALLS

Harold: Lets paddle their asses! Chadrick: Yeah, yeah, good idea, boss! Me: 'kay. (the three of us proceed to the front of the store and begin to beat a customer.) The stinky losers that come into Advance Auto Parts (aka, customers) deserve it. Imagine this: A guy comes in, dripping in grease and smelling equally appealing, pushes his way into the front of the line (getting grease all over other customers), puts a blob of grease on the countertop that he thinks is a part (thoroughly soiling the desk), then asks for help. Me: What can I do for you? *Greasy customer points to blob of grease he thinks is a part* Greasy: That. Me: What is that? Greasy: Ummm...That. At this point, I realize that he's not mentally ill (at least, not medically) but can't speak English. A nice cloud of stench has floated over the counter. Me: I need to know what that is. Greasy: Ummm...Engine. Me: That's not an engine. Greasy: Ummm... *Greasy customer takes out his cell phone and begins talking very fast* *Greasy customer finishes after a few minutes* *Greasy customer points at the greasy blob he thinks is a part* Greasy: I need. Meanwhile, a line of ainguished customers is piling up behind Mr. Greasy. Me: I could pretend that's a starter. Greasy: Umm...I need. Me: 'kay. What kind of car do you have? Greasy: Truck. Me: ...? Greasy: Truck. *Greasy turns around, then looks somewhat panicked* Greasy: Umm...I go. *Greasy runs out the door* And...The blob of grease is on my countertop. I actually kinda enjoy the job now (things like this are pretty funny a few hours after it happens) but it sure is easy to gripe about. Anyway, that's my story. thus ranteth Gheed at 1:03 PM | Permalink |