363632 Curiosities served
So much for being helpful...
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Grumpy
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Had a lousy experience on the way home from work today. I needed to stop off at the store and pick up some more toilet paper, so I headed there before coming home.
I had to get one thing. One.
And, of course, all the self-checkout stands are broken. Which means I get to stand in line with 50 other people, on the two open checkstands, with just one item. To top this off, I ended up standing behind an elderly woman who couldn't have been taller than 4'6", and who marinated herself in either $2 perfume or cat urine before going shopping today. I'm leaning toward the perfume. I'm praying it was perfume, and not the latter.
Finally, she reaches the front of the line. I'm next - I can almost smell freedom (at least, as much as I could smell anything over her perfume). But nooooo... that would be too easy.
As a side note, I've just resigned myself to the fact that nothing is ever easy for me on the way home from work. It's a conspiracy.
The cashier, being, well, a cashier, starts to check out her items. Immediately, she starts yelling at him in Spanish, of which it's obvious the gangly, red-haired, freckled lad behind the register knows somewhere between jack and squat. He starts speaking back to her in English, which it's obvious the old lady knows... well, you get the idea.
It turns out that she's actually trying to haggle down the prices of the food she's buying. Every time he scans something and the price pops up on the screen, she starts screaming a lower price at him. Apples? $2.50. "No! No! Dos dolares!"
I know a decent amount of Spanish, and I like to think I know English (or at least a Brooklynese dialect of it). So, I started translating for the cashier what she was saying, and trying to help the cashier get his point across to the lady that you can't really haggle for prices in a supermarket.
What happens? The lady turns to me and, in broken English, spits out "Get away from me, you white boy."
I have never been referred to as a "white boy" before, particularly from someone who I was trying to assist.
So much for being helpful.
I had to get one thing. One.
And, of course, all the self-checkout stands are broken. Which means I get to stand in line with 50 other people, on the two open checkstands, with just one item. To top this off, I ended up standing behind an elderly woman who couldn't have been taller than 4'6", and who marinated herself in either $2 perfume or cat urine before going shopping today. I'm leaning toward the perfume. I'm praying it was perfume, and not the latter.
Finally, she reaches the front of the line. I'm next - I can almost smell freedom (at least, as much as I could smell anything over her perfume). But nooooo... that would be too easy.
As a side note, I've just resigned myself to the fact that nothing is ever easy for me on the way home from work. It's a conspiracy.
The cashier, being, well, a cashier, starts to check out her items. Immediately, she starts yelling at him in Spanish, of which it's obvious the gangly, red-haired, freckled lad behind the register knows somewhere between jack and squat. He starts speaking back to her in English, which it's obvious the old lady knows... well, you get the idea.
It turns out that she's actually trying to haggle down the prices of the food she's buying. Every time he scans something and the price pops up on the screen, she starts screaming a lower price at him. Apples? $2.50. "No! No! Dos dolares!"
I know a decent amount of Spanish, and I like to think I know English (or at least a Brooklynese dialect of it). So, I started translating for the cashier what she was saying, and trying to help the cashier get his point across to the lady that you can't really haggle for prices in a supermarket.
What happens? The lady turns to me and, in broken English, spits out "Get away from me, you white boy."
I have never been referred to as a "white boy" before, particularly from someone who I was trying to assist.
So much for being helpful.
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