Dear Stupid Cashier at the Clothing Store,
I know you don’t remember me, seeing as it’s been 6 months since the last time I entered your store, can you blame me?! Last time I was there you tried to make small talk (which I hate enough as it is) and I had to, very politely, explain that I was going to be late for work if you continued with your sob story about how you are just working here temporarily to make some extra cash and they don’t pay you enough, on top of that they keep moving you from location to location and blah, blah, blah…
You must have mistakenly thought that I was inviting you to continue our (and by “our” I mean “your”) small talk, just on a different subject. WRONG! Now, when you asked me where I worked I didn’t know what hell was going to be unleashed when I answered, if I had known I would have said something like “the morgue” just to keep you silent. “I am a salesperson at the local dealership”, I told you. Then it began. I could see it as soon as the words left my mouth, your eyes got real big and the “OOOOOOOHH” that formed on your lips indicated that I must’ve sparked a memory that I SO wish I could’ve left hidden away in the very dark corners for your teeny weeny brain.
You start rattling off some random question about how much it would cost me to have an extra key made for your 2005 Toyota Rav4 because you let your best friend borrow your car and his 4 year old son swallowed the key. My smile (and I say smile, but really I mean evil death stare with a grin that could kill) must have interrupted your story. I smile, not because I think you’re cute, nice, funny, smart and definitely not because I am enjoying our conversation (or your company for that matter). I smile because right now I am imagining myself reaching my arm out as far as possible and bitch-slapping you across the damn face.
I WANT to tell you to go kill yourself and how much I despise “your kind” but instead I contain myself, give you the number to call and demand that you ask for yourself. This must’ve made you very sad because you finally decided to shut the hell up, give me my merchandise, and let me go on along my merry way. You obviously missed the part where I said I was a SALESPERSON not a CUSTOMER SERVICE GRUNT RESPONSIBLE FOR MEMORIZING EVERY PRICE FOR EVERY MINISCULE ITEM IN THE ENTIRE DEALERSHIP just in case I run into some curious bimbo that’s too lazy to call and find out themselves. Give me a break lady.
Note to self: next time someone asks where you work, lie, just down right lie.
Very sincerely,
The rude annoying customer that hates your guts
P.S. Thanks for making me late to work, by the way.
1. you made yourself late for work by stopping to shop. maybe you should manage your time better.
2. there are quite a few managers out there who reprimand employees who aren’t “friendly enough”. Most cashiers are encouraged to chat with customers, and to make each customer interaction personalized. If the cashier doesn’t, the cashier gets a poor performance review.
3. #1 and/or #2 may be incorrect in this case, but you should try to be a little less rude and condescending.
4. something to think about during your next shopping trip: if you are really rude and nasty, people in retail will remember you. this is not to your benefit, since it means the next time you visit a store one of the employees will try to irritate you as much as possible with out actually being rude. you will get the lowest level of customer service possible, and since you hate small talk, you will probably get a lot of it in the future. enjoy!