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21 July 2009 @ 02:13 am
Don't Cling to my Counter  
Nothing...I repeat...NOTHING you can possibly say is important enough for you to stand in front of the register and block traffic.  Unless someone is dead in the parking lot, or the building is on fire, get the fuck away from the point of sale and let me take care of the steadily building line of people who just want to buy their item and get the hell away from you.  No one cares about how you broke the game with X character, not even me...and it certainly doesn't justify the captive audience that's racking up behind your turned back.

Protip:  When a clerk says to you, 'Damn, I'm just -so- busy,' that is your cue to fuck off.

Lots of clingy people on the register today...when clearly my head is down, buried in paperwork (and there is a great deal of paperwork involved in geek-herding) it seems like people begin skittering out of the woodwork to talk to me.  There comes a point when I stop making the nice and start making the mean...that point nearly arrived this evening when Mr. Taxi began his usual pot-stirring routine, shit-talking another member of the staff in an attempt to lower them in my eyes, never-mind that Taxi rotates who he complains about depending on who's on shift that day.  My memory is long for that kind of passive-aggressive crap.

Taxi, since realizing that I've taken the customer-service 'clinical' tone, has taken to apologizing for everything he didn't do...and he's already slavish and servile, which has rankled me since we met.  I don't care if he's 'sorry that I'm so busy', if he were really sorry, he would get the hint, go the fuck away, and let me work in peace instead of baby-talking in the way only a sex crazed, retard-strong wannabe halfwit can.

-end snarl-