I didn’t think Hell existed until those two hours…

I had a rather frustrating day, and this was the very last thing I did.  This is what happens when you just throw someone into a place they know nothing about.

So a deaf and half blind lady walks into the store at about 11:45.  She has a $5 Bingo card.  You know, the new yellow ones with the extra bingo lines on top? That one.  She lets me know she’s deaf, hands me the ticket, and I validate it (scanned it into the machine and typed in the special numbers).  I tell her it’s $5 and ask if she wants another ticket.  She makes some strange-non-sign-language gestures and I think, “oh, she just wants cash,” and proceed to do the $5 lottery win on the register. As I try to hand her the $5 and ask her if she needs anything else she slams her hand on the counter, makes some noises, snatches the ticket from me, points rather vehemently at it, and throws it back at me. I make the confused face and hand her some paper and a pen. She picks them up and slams them back down and somehow managed to non verbally tell me it should be more than that.  So I try to validate it again and, low-and-behold, “previously paid by you”. So I show her the validation slips and the one that said it was the right thing, and she, again, starts gesticulating wildly and making noses. So I try to explain to her that the computer
is right and she is wrong.  She won’t have it.  So I try to get her to use the self-check-thingy, and she refuses.  So I actually go over the call numbers with her to show her why it’s only $5, and she refuses to believe me.  So now I have a line of 10 people and a rather upset deaf and half blind woman and everyone is extremely frustrated when she grabs the ticket out of my hand and tries to leave.  I start gesticulating wildly and yelling that she can’t do that and to let me call and see what I can do.

So I get out my cell phone (because god forbid we actually have a phone in this piece of shit store that’s actually hearing impaired friendly) and call the G-TECH hotline and start running the only other register we have to knock down the line. So now I’m trying to explain to a half deaf blind woman that her ticket is only worth $5, wait on ten to fifteen people, and explain the situation to the lottery Helpdesk people, all at the same time.  I finally get the line down and the lady transfers me to the local claim center, and I’m trying to explain the situation to the lady on the phone and she’s just not understanding.  She keeps saying, “I don’t understand what the problem is.  The computer says it’s a $5 winner, it’s a $5 winner.”

“Well, ma’am, the customer is saying it should be more than that.”

“How much does the player think it should be?”

“Ma’am, how much do you think it should be?”

So she starts making weird noises and using her not-sign-language-signing to tell me twelve.  No, wait, not twelve, $120. No, wait, not $120 but $130.

“Sir, what game is this?”

“$5 bingo”

“There isn’t a $130 on the $5 bingo.  Flip the card over and show her the winning increments and explain those are the only denominations this game plays out.”

Somehow in the midst of this conversation and being transferred, etc., I went from having no one else in the store to having  a store filled with people! And I’m not talking a line of 20, I’m talking boulder to shoulder, tits to back, all three aisles and the back wall,
people waiting to get in, more than 50 people, above my fire Marshall regulated capacity filled with people. THERE WAS A TEN MINUTE
WAIT!!!

So the player says to go ahead and wait on the customers and the lady on the phone lets me take up her time while I try to knock out this insane line BY MYSELF.  So I’m explaining, while waiting on customers, exactly what’s transpired so this woman knows exactly what’s been going on and why I had to call the claim center in order to have someone explain to me to explain to this player why she only won $5.

So now the line is gone, it’s just us again, and I flip the card over and show her that there is no $130 or $120 winning increments in this game and she starts making noises again and gesticulating and pointing and is almost on the verge of tears and the lady on the phone, in her thick Jersey accent, goes, “oh, you’ve got a real problem there, sir, a real problem.  I can see that now.  Let me call lotto and see if we can’t find a rep in your area to come and help you.  Just give me a couple of minutes.  I need your retailer number and your phone number.”

So I give her all this information while I’m writing down what she told me so this half blind deaf lady understands what’s going on.  It’s now 12:30 and the lunch crowd is there and I, once again, have three lines of about 10-15 people each and can only use the one register. Yay.

So the player is happy and content to wait, and starts going over the ticket again to see if she’s wrong and I start running THE ONLY REGISTER LEFT BECAUSE SHE WON’T LEAVE THE COUNTER AY THE OTHER REGISTER to try to get the lines down. Alone.

So my phone rings with an Austin area code and they tell me they didn’t get my retailer number and that they’re trying to find ANYONE in the area who can come help me.  FINALLY a lady calls me (some district manager) and we go over everything that’s happened and she tells me the woman HAS to take the money because no one else can pay it.  I explain that the woman will not take the money.  She wants what she thinks she won or the ticket.  So she tells me to take her to the self-check-thingy and show her that it’s only $5.  So I do this (walking between my line of thankfully only 10 people) and she is again vehement that it’s more than $5 and the machine is wrong.

So the woman tells me the player can go to the claim center and contest it, to give her the player copy of the validation and keep mine, separate, because she will eventually have to come back and get her money from us because NO ONE ELSE CAN PAY HER.  She goes, “I can explain it to her, of you’d like.”

“Well, ma’am, you see, the problem comes on with the fact she’s deaf.”

“Oh. No wonder this has been so difficult.  Ok, I’ll wait while you explain.”  (Note: I don’t think she meant that deaf people are stupid, just that there was a severe lack of communication.  I’m half deaf and wholly intelligent.)

So I write down all of this information and she starts using another pen and paper to already start arguing with me (I almost laughed about arguing on brown paper bags) and I tell her to hang on and let me finish writing it out.

“You can take the $5 and contest it at the claim center (this is where she started slamming and arguing again and I told her to wait and let me finish). You can also take the ticket to the claim center, however, NO ONE ELSE will be able to pay you. You would have to come back here to get your money.”

So that’s what she wants to do. So I get the address for her, give the retailer number, game number, pack number, and
ticket number to the lady on the phone, and then have to give my name, the store manager’s name, the corporate customer service number (because god forbid we actually have the store’s phone number posted by the registers where it belongs), explain that I’m not from that store, the store manager is on vacation, give her MY store number and my stores phone number.

And then it was almost 1:30.

New car, fresh cash, gotta steal!

So, if you follow me on Twitter you might have heard me complaining over the weekend about the jackass who stole the beer.  He was driving a pretty new Chevy Malibu, had his whole family in the car, and stole an 18 pack of Coors Light.  That pissed me off.  I mean, it pisses me off when people steal bear, anyway, but the sheer audacity to steal it with your whole family present, kid and everything, and put it into your SHINY NEW CAR pissed me off to no end.  If you wanna steal a loaf of bread or milk or some such, cool, go for it.  I’d probably applaud you for your survival skills.  You steal a candy bar, I’ll tell you to choke on it and have a nice day.  But you wanna steal beer in front of your family and drive away in your new car…motherfucker, just stay two feet away from me and you might get lucky and I’ll just spit on you.

In other news, life at that store is boring.  The crew is quite the cast of characters, however.  Like the chick with the pink hair.  Pink hair is awesome, I’m not gonna lie.  I just wanna know why I can’t have blue hair and still have a job.  I mean, hell, I get harassed and threatened and get sent to Hell, where we have to bag ice with a fucking scoop and bucket.  I feel like the coal shoveler on the steam engines, which is, of course, the job I always wanted.*

One of these days, though, I’m probably gonna snap and kill somebody, or at the very least cuss them out but good.

Like the bitch that decided I’m not good enough to ring her up because, G-d forbid, I asked her a question.  Apparently no one really likes her, though, so I don’t feel bad.  And I’m sure as fuck not gonna feel guilty when I tell her, “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m not allowed to turn the pump on for anyone unless they prepay as it’s our corporate policy to help maintain low gas prices and defeat the felony of drive-off’s, whether they be accidental or otherwise.  Will that be cash or charge?”

This bitch is so anal she makes us check the dates on her cigarettes before she buys them.  Apparently she even had the audacity to open a pack before checking the date and then, upon realizing they weren’t the freshest possible cigarettes she could have purchased, had the gall to demand she be allowed to exchange them.  Um, sorry, how about NO, YOU STUPID, FAT, CUMGUZZLING CUNT!

Whew, sorry, she just really irks me, and I really wish I could say that to her.  Oh, wait, if I’m outside, off camera, and there’s no witnesses, it never happened.  I’m such a bad boy.

*Note:  This is, in fact, a true fact.  That has been my dream job since childhood.  Do not judge me.

Somebody is making a rather big mistake, I think…

No, I live in Texas, and, if I’ve learned one thing from living in Texas, it’s that Texans like to drink beer.  They’ll drink whenever and wherever they can.  The Texas Alcoholic Beverage Commission, or TABC, is the ruling body concerning alcohol.  For people who work in a convenience store, they are the bogey man.

Having read this story and having worked in a convenience store and spent plenty of time hanging out in different convenience stores with friends, I can clearly state that this is the worst idea I have ever heard.  Now, granted, I have never had the pleasure of visiting Pennsylvania, nor do I even have any idea what the area around this convenience store is like.  Maybe you live there or have been, or maybe you know someone who has.  Maybe it’s a really nice area.  I don’t know.  But I know that, at least in the three states I’ve lived in, this would never work.  There’s a reason why that scene in those movies where the characters are brown bagging it outside 7 Eleven always precedes a scene involving a police chase or some other such trouble.

While grocery stores and the like get the grouchy “I haven’t had my morning brew yet” people, we get the fall down, gotta lean on my friend the wet floor sign because I can’t stand up on my own, hit on you because I don’t know you and oh I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were a dude and why are you three guys staring at me like that, drunks.  So, of course, it would just be an even better idea if the state were to force us to serve them beer in our stores!

Okay, enough of that.  I just checked Wikipedia for answers and apparently Pennsylvania as a 1984 style control system over alcohol and you can only buy liquor from the state of Pennsylvania and cannot buy beer from convenience stores or grocery stores.  I guess we should call Pennsylvania the Ministry of Spirits.  I wonder if they sell anything other than Freedom Wine and Freedom Tequila?