SOOOO tired, but must bloggy

So this new store…yeah…see, people, if I wanted to smell like a bartender, I would be a bartender.  But, alas, I am not a bartender, and yet I leave work smelling of cheap beer, cigarettes, and pot.  The people are polite, though.  No arguments about sandwiches not being fresh, no complaints about Subway (since we don’t have one)…

Really, we don’t even have a hose for the mop sink, y’all! And the ice down (that thing where beer is kept on ice, seriously, I have to explain EVERYTHING to you people, gah!) doesn’t even drain.  Nope, it has a valve and we put the mop bucket under it and oh G-D somebody shoot me now!

Other than that it’s not really too bad.  It would be like if I worked in my neighborhood…which I don’t…for a reason…

Then there’s “creepy-seemingly-homeless-guy” who you can’t tell is drunk or just that crazy.  Other than seeming crazy, he didn’t appear intoxicated…  Really, he reminds me of 90% of the homeless guys in downtown Savannah.  I was waiting for him to break out his trumpet and start playing for tips…or make a palm frond rose and try to sell them.

And then the “crweens” came in.

Crweens: noun

1) Creepy Tweens/Teens

These two girls, one covered in tattoos and looking ~20 years old, the other looked about 14, stand by the door closest to my register and the one in tattoos starts going off about how the other one (the true crween) thinks I’m just “sooooo cute, and, like, are you single, cuz she needs a boyfriend” and I ignored them in favor of the customer I was doing business with.  Then they walk up and are all “OMG yer hot, you should, like, totally take her out” and I was all “I don’t think my boyfriend would like that” and the one with the tattoos just runs out the door and the other girl seemed completely mortified and couldn’t remember her pin number and then just ran out the door a few minutes later.  It was funny.  Now, if the blonde had actually been around my age and hot, this whole thing would have gone completely differently and, hopefully, rather Skinamax-ely, but, meh, I’m not picky.  Although that extremely hot bear from my old store…yeah…I need to go now, it’s hard to type and…yeah….

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