» Crappy relationships

It's been a long time coming.
It's been so long that I can't even remember who introduced us, most likely a friend of a friend, or even a casual acquaintance that I probably no longer keep in touch with. At first I was completely enchanted by you. I was a bit shy (still am), so I didn't speak much, just listened and learned and laughed.

You introduced me to some new friends, and I was endlessly entertained, sometimes to the point of laughing so hard my stomach would ache for days.

I didn't notice when the shine started to disappear. We were drifting apart, and I admit I was slowly, bit by bit, paying a lot less attention than I had in the beginning. It finally got to the point where I didn't even see you anymore, just popped in once a week to find out anything important. I don't think you even noticed I wasn't around.

It wasn't just me though. You slowly started to have less and less to say. The stories you told were beginning to sound like the stories you told before, with a thin coat of difference. Not enough to fool anybody, but it seemed to fool yourself. It got to the point where you weren't even trying to change them anymore, just saying "Remember that story I told way back then? Yeah. That." and that was the end of it. You barely brought forth a chuckle anymore, and nothing like the full belly laughs you used to give me.

But I'm still trying. I think our relationship can be saved. I'm begging, qotw. Please. We've both got to try to make this work.
(Fri 22nd Oct 2010, 21:21, More)

» Customers from Hell

My worst customer ever...
This was quite a few years ago, but it's still the highest level of customer suckage I can think of.

Ok. Just so you know: Working at a bank is godawful. People are pissy. The elderly think that you should remember them, since they’ve been members of the bank since 1969. Nevermind that they only come into the branch office once a year. Bygod they have over $1000 in this bank and asking for ID is a suicidal mission. WHY THE HELL DO YOU NEED ID? I WAS JUST IN HERE 3 MONTHS AGO! WHY DON’T YOU REMEMBER ME? DON'T MAKE ME CALL YOUR MANAGER! I KNOW THE OWNER OF THIS BANK AND I CAN HAVE YOU FIRED!

So you would think, that the people who are in charge of the upwards of $500,000 per week would get a decent wage. Well, you would be wrong. As a Head Teller (NO, not that kind of head, you pervs) the max I ever made was $8.50 an hour. I had been at that place for 6 years, and they paid me $8.50 an hour. Bastards.

So, it’s a Friday. Best friggin day of the week at a bank. And the beginning of the month. People are lining up out the door. Keep in mind; Fridays are the bane of a bank teller’s existence. We hate All People on Fridays. (If you ever go to a bank on a Friday, and that nice little girl that tells you to have a good day? She hates you. She wishes she could drop you into a large vat of acid, and watch your flesh dissolve. Never go to the bank on a Friday if you can help it.)

Typical Friday, we were open until 6. Things are extremely busy, line-ups out the door. I think it was the third of the month, so we have all of the social security and welfare checks to cash. When the first or third falls on a Friday, you know it’s gonna be a bad day.

We’re close to closing time, the crowd is thinning out. Near the end of the line, is a woman, about 25 or so, with a little boy, about 4. She comes up to my counter, hands me a phone bill and a credit card. I ask, “Did you want a cash advance on the credit card to pay the phone bill?” (We had to ask)

She rolls her eyes and says “YES!” (Quite loudly. Even all of the retired social security check holders turned to look, and most of them are half deaf.)

I run the cash advance and have her sign the slip, while instructing the new girl next to me how to run an electric bill. After she signs the slip, she turns to walk away, and I say, “We haven’t done your phone bill yet, just the cash advance.”

Another eye roll and she yanks on the kid's arm and comes back up to the counter. I process the phone bill, hand her the receipt and turn to answer the question the new girl is asking me.

Now, I freely admit I was a bit distracted during the transaction, due to the new girl next to me that I was training. But I don’t think that excuses this:

Customer’s eyes begin to bulge and the unholy fires of hell surround her. She literally screams, “I WANT TO TALK TO THE MANAGER!”

I’m stunned. I stammer out, “All right.” I stand up from my stool, and start to walk around the counter to get my supervisor, and the woman rushes around the counter and punches me! Closed fist. (And that was a big, ham-like fist. This woman was an Amazon. About 6’2 and probably 240)

I jump back as I see her coming, and her fist only connects with the top of my head, instead of my face that she was aiming for.

My supervisor, who stood up when the woman began screaming, runs over and leaps in front of her, arms spread. He is not happy with someone attacking one of his girls. (I know, but we were very young girls, and he was a very sweet older guy. We didn’t mind being called his girls.)

She’s still trying to come at me, and my supervisor is shoving back at her with his body, refusing to touch her with his hands, she’s got both of her arms over his shoulders, swinging wildly. Her poor kid is watching the whole thing.

Super long story made slightly shorter: Cops were called, woman was arrested, and kid gets picked up by Grandma. I head to hospital for pictures for the cops; we go to court a few months later. Want to hear the reason she gave the judge for attacking me? (And she actually said this, in court.)

I didn’t tell her to have a good day.

Length? Only six months probation and a small fine.
(Sat 6th Sep 2008, 4:40, More)

» Dad stories

I put off answering this question,
not because I’ve nothing good to say about my Dad, but because I don’t think I can do him justice. So I’ve compiled a list of how wonderful my dad is, and remember, he’s at least five times as wonderful as anything I’ve written here.

1. When I was four (sis was five and little bro was two) my mother fucked off to god knows where. Dad rolled up his sleeves, slapped on his hat, and buckled down to take care of three kids. He did his best for us.

2. When he was young, he was taking college classes, and planned to become a forest ranger. The thought of working outdoors for his entire life made him deliriously happy. When my grandfather was hurt and unable to work, Dad quit college and came home to get a job in a local factory to take care of his parents. Soon after, Dad was married and taking care of a family of his own. He worked at that factory until his retirement just a few years ago. That place destroyed his hearing, gave him arthritis and numerous other health problems, and he’s still thankful he got to work there, because it gave him the means to take care of his family.

3. Dad gave me a love of so many things, some of which include: Comics. Hiking. Camping. Astronomy. Animals. Alcohol. Horrible puns. ("Excuse the pun," he'd say. "There's no excuse for puns." I'd answer)

4. He gave me a tolerance for anyone different than myself, and a willingness to listen to different points of view.

5. He taught me to drive. That’s love right there. When I was being a terribly bitchy mean teenager round the house, he’d toss me the keys and get me out of there before my stepmom could kill me.

6. He taught me to slow down and see beauty.

7. During the six months it took to plan my wedding, he reminded every chance he got that it wasn’t too late to back out.

8. He reminded me again in the foyer of the church as he was about to walk me down the aisle.

9. Fourteen years later he still reminds me there’s always room at home if I ever need to move back.

10. Some of my favorite times are sitting on the patio with wine and my dad. We can talk for hours once we get going.

Too many more to name. I could go into my childhood, teenage boyfriends, and so many other stories about my dad, but I can sum everything up with this:

I never once doubted I was loved.

I can only hope I’ve made my kids feel the same.
(Wed 1st Dec 2010, 16:59, More)

» How nerdy are you?

I'm more of a book nerd than a computer or gamer nerd...
I like to play with henna, and every few weeks I change the little symbol on my right wrist. A few weeks ago, I had inked a little Om symbol on my wrist. The girls at work all wanted to see, so I showed it to them. "What's it mean?" they asked. So I told them I'd recently converted to Omnism. I then beckoned them closer, they all moved forward and I whispered "The turtle moves!"

Cue six confused looks.
(Fri 7th Mar 2008, 21:06, More)

» Dodgy work ethics

More funny than naughty or depressing as most of these have been.
But hey, accidental innuendo is always fun, yes?

I currently work at an internet clothing sales company. We buy customer returns and post them on our website and ebay, deeply discounted from retail.

We do, occasionally, get brand new items from the manufacturer. These may be discontinued, or poor sellers, or out of season. One time, we received a huge skid of spanking new panties. Bossman tells me he wants me to split these into lots of 6, 12 and 18, and get them posted online. No problem, says I. Our warehouse guy, who we all call Roy, cause that's what's printed on his ID, shows me where the skid is, and I get to work sorting by size and style.

The next day my daughter is sick, so I miss work. The day after I miss work again because my daughter passed her plague on to me. So I return to work after missing two days.

I get settled at my desk and head out to the warehouse to continue my panty sorting. But. My skid is missing. I look around nearby. Plenty of skids, but my skid full of panties is nowhere to be found. Now, this is a pretty big warehouse, so it's usually more expedient to yell for someone rather than hunting them down. So I yell, clearly, in a huge warehouse with about 30 people around, "ROY! WHERE THE HELL ARE MY PANTIES?"
(Tue 12th Jul 2011, 14:04, More)