I make sure I get out of the house in time to avoid my parents, and I do. I go down to the Mall Of America. I decide that I will finally go into the shop called As Seen On TV and get a Ped-Egg because my heels are as dry and cracked as a desert and Consumer Reports recommended it.
I look around the store before grabbing a Ped-Egg package. I then stand in line to check out. Meanwhile, there's this guy stocking Ped-Eggs and other product on the hooks and shelves. He gets done with a package and walks toward me. Apparently I'm standing in his way and he's got important things to do, because he says, "Why don't you stand over here so that you won't be anybody's way?"
YOU CONDESCENDING MOTHERFUCKER!!! IT AIN'T MY GODDAMN FAULT YOUR STORE IS THE SIZE OF A WALK-IN CLOSET! WHY DON'T YOU MOVE INTO A BIGGER SPACE IF YOU DON'T LIKE ME STANDING IN YOUR WAY -- OR, BETTER YET, SHUT YOUR GODDAMN MOUTH AND GO AROUND ME!! I'M BUYING SHIT FROM YOUR STORE, ASSHOLE!!! EVER HEARD OF NOT PISSING OFF YOUR CUSTOMERS, YOU DUMBASS?!?!
As I was buying the Ped-Egg, I kept looking for him, in "full vengeance" mode. How can I get back at this guy, passive-aggressively of course? After I bought the Ped-Egg, I decided I would go up from behind, pat him on the back as he was marking prices on his stuff and say goodbye.
But dammit, he was done! He was loading all his boxes into his dolly and leaving the store! No way is he getting away from me, so as he was out at the mall and blending into heavy weekend MOA traffic, I decided to chase after. And I got the son-of-a-bitch; as he was dragging his boxes behind him, I get up next to him, pat him firmly on his right shoulder twice and say, "You have a nice day too, sir," then walk past and in front of him, slowly averting the slower-walking man ahead of this prick. In my quasi-fearful way -- and I know I need to work on making eye contact when I'm trying to show someone up -- I turn my head his way without looking at his ass-face. But I increase my distance from him by walking faster; hopefully it looks like I made my point and I'm walking confidently, though I'm afraid it looks like I don't want to get my ass kicked.
Further complication: I decide to take the escalator down to avoid him ... but dammit! I hear the wheels of this creep's dolly trailing behind me. Is he following me? Or have I again made the exact wrong choice of where to go when trying to get away from an enemy? This is the point where I needed to look up from the escalator and look straight at him, dare him, say "What? You wanna go? YOU WANNA FUCKING GO, MOTHERFUCKER?!?!?!" with my eyes. But I didn't, I just did my business. Maybe I was playing it cool, but I feel that this asshole thinks I'm a pussy.
I walked for a couple hours around the mall to try and shake myself of this unfortunate situation. Then I realized: I bought something from this guy's store. Why do I want to give money to a guy who disrespected me? I really, really wanted to try this Ped-Egg out; I just tore a piece of dried skin from my heel and put it on my rapidly-growing mound of dried heel skin on table next to my bed. But I just couldn't think that I could ever use this product without thinking of that rude bastard. So I went back up there, girded myself in case he was back there or, worse, was checking people out, and went up to the counter to see the same guy who checked me out when I bought the Ped-Egg -- big, scruffy-bearded, too-soft-spoken, quiet in that serial killer kind of way. I returned it without any problems on his end, got my money back, made sure the coast was clear of that ignorant asshole who no longer has my money anymore, and left the mall.
I have to admit, not walking around with that thing is like taking a load off my shoulders. I almost always keep my negative feelings whenever I'm the victim of a run-in like that, but returning that material object made me feel a lot better.
---
But then. ...
I went to the Subway at the U. to cash in on that free coupon. I get the new Tusssssssssssssscan Chicken Sandwich, and from the first "sandwich artist" I showed this coupon to make sure they knew I had this thing. But when I get to check-out, the guy didn't know which buttons on his register to push.
So he calls for and gets this short, squat Hispanic guy -- like Guillermo from Jimmy Kimmel Live, but with a fatter face and a confrontational attitude. He did some things, I don't know if they worked, but he just spat a "dollar seven" at me, which was the cost of the chips I bought. After I gave this guy my money, the register spat out two receipts. They stapled the first one to the coupon, but there was a second one. I don't completely know why I did, but keeping track of my expenses was one of the things I've been thinking about recently, and so I asked if I could take the receipt. They both stared at me blankly, so I asked again, and again, and then the Latino dude gave it to me, walked away ... and started laughing at me and shaking his head.
Well, I immediately went to red with this fucking asshole. Was he showing me up? It brought back bad memories of the time I was at the Indian casino while on vacation in Milwaukee. I was the last seat at a blackjack table, and I did something that violated the Secret Blackjack Code, and I broke the table. I leave broke, and this guy at the other end of the table from me kept looking at me, shaking his head and laughing at me. I kept looking back at him as I was walking away. I was bewildered as he kept looking at me. I wanted to go up to him and pick a fight -- "You got a problem with me?" Yet to this day I regret just walking away, like a little bitch.
And so this was history repeating itself. Even the bane of my existence looked the same; if Subway Prick were even fatter and hadn't showered in a year, he would look like Blackjack Prick. I learned my lesson; I wasn't going to let any perceived slight go unanswered. So the asshole went back to the back to do Subway stuff, and I asked the first guy (the guy who tried to ring me up the first time) what was his problem: "He's shaking his head and he's laughing, he got something?" I may have said this loud enough for the other customers in the restaurant to hear and get uncomfortable. My bad. But I was standing up for myself, and therefore I am proud of myself. That little bitch either didn't hear me or didn't want to hear me. The first guy tried to defuse the situation by saying, "It's alright."
I dined in. I was looking at Subway Son-Of-A-Bitch the whole time, daring him to look me in the eyes. Yeah, that makes up for the douchebag I ran into at As Seen On TV.
I tried thinking of ways to get back at this one. All the scenarios I could come up with, though, had to have him coming out into the front of the restaurant so I could confront/lock eyes with/throw something at him. And of course he never did. To try and defuse the situation, I waved my hand at the First Guy on my way out after eating. He waved back and said goodbye. He's an alright dude. It's good I didn't do anything stupid because of him.
Few hours later, I looked at the receipt I got from Subway. It didn't have anything about the chips I bought. Guess that rude d-bag couldn't figure out how to punch it into the cash register. The dumbass.
Regardless, I think it's best I stay home Sunday.
No comments:
Post a Comment