Homocidal Tendencies.
Nov. 6th, 2004 08:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seethingheathenWork yesterday sucked my left tit. I'm sick, and I didn't want to be there, but Cindi (the only one on a day off) would not cover my fucking shift. Cunt. See if I ever do her any favours.
I did, however, learn a couple things.
1) People actually think trakkies go with snakeskin boots. Okay, one person thinks that.
2) I do not have a 'British nose.' Whatever. I never really gave my nose much thought. Until now. Damnit.
And I had two customers who deserved to die.
Cast of Characters:
Me Why in the bloody hell do I work here? Oh yeah, The employee discount. And I love porn.
BEG Broken English Guy.
Ira Some arsehole called Ira.
I want some take-away twat.
Me: [standing outside with the shop door held open, so I can see what's going on in there.]
BEG: I just want to come in and look.
Me: Okay, then go in. [follow BEG into shop]
BEG: How much for that? [gesturing toward back of shop where naughty things take place- illegally]
Me: £3.
BEG: And upstairs? (Again, more illegal shit.)
Me £6.
BEG: £6! Why?
Me: Because you can stay up there as long as you want.
BEG: But I have to go home!
Me: Go on, then.
BEG: You have something to take home?
Me: What? [not understanding clearly, as he is Broken English Guy]
BEG: You know, some girls. They put their pussies there.
Me: Nah, man. Not here. No girls.
BEG: You have boyfriend?
Me: Nope. And I don't want one.
BEG: What, you been waiting for me?
Me: Hardly.
BEG: Where do you come from?
Me: Here.
BEG: No. You're Italy girl. You look like Italy girl.
Me: I'm not Italian.
BEG: English?
Me: Yes.
BEG: No, I don't think so. Why you cut your hair like that bullshit?
Me: Because.
BEG: Why? Do you have big tits?
Me: Time to go, mate.
Why would I have spat on your floor?
Me: [thinking I see Ira spit on the floor] Did you just spit on my fucking floor?
Ira: Why would I do that? I've been coming here for 12 years! Ask the manager.
Me: We haven't been here 12 years.
Ira: So, do you have a boyfriend?
Me: Nope. Don't want one.
Ira: Why?
Me: Don't have time for that shite. Boyfriends are a waste of time and stupid.
Ira: Hey! Calm down with that stupid. So, do you smoke the chronic (I had no idea people still called it that)?
Me: Yeah.
Ira: You smoke it at work?
Me: No.
Ira: You want to smoke with me after work?
Me: No.
Ira: Can I try tomorrow?
Me: You can try.
Ira: Sunday?
Me: You can try.
Ira: Please tell me I can try on Monday.
Me: Yeah, but I won't be here.
Ira: Okay. But I'll be back tomorrow!
Turns out he'd pished all over the back of the shop. Yay.
I did, however, learn a couple things.
1) People actually think trakkies go with snakeskin boots. Okay, one person thinks that.
2) I do not have a 'British nose.' Whatever. I never really gave my nose much thought. Until now. Damnit.
And I had two customers who deserved to die.
Cast of Characters:
Me Why in the bloody hell do I work here? Oh yeah, The employee discount. And I love porn.
BEG Broken English Guy.
Ira Some arsehole called Ira.
I want some take-away twat.
Me: [standing outside with the shop door held open, so I can see what's going on in there.]
BEG: I just want to come in and look.
Me: Okay, then go in. [follow BEG into shop]
BEG: How much for that? [gesturing toward back of shop where naughty things take place- illegally]
Me: £3.
BEG: And upstairs? (Again, more illegal shit.)
Me £6.
BEG: £6! Why?
Me: Because you can stay up there as long as you want.
BEG: But I have to go home!
Me: Go on, then.
BEG: You have something to take home?
Me: What? [not understanding clearly, as he is Broken English Guy]
BEG: You know, some girls. They put their pussies there.
Me: Nah, man. Not here. No girls.
BEG: You have boyfriend?
Me: Nope. And I don't want one.
BEG: What, you been waiting for me?
Me: Hardly.
BEG: Where do you come from?
Me: Here.
BEG: No. You're Italy girl. You look like Italy girl.
Me: I'm not Italian.
BEG: English?
Me: Yes.
BEG: No, I don't think so. Why you cut your hair like that bullshit?
Me: Because.
BEG: Why? Do you have big tits?
Me: Time to go, mate.
Why would I have spat on your floor?
Me: [thinking I see Ira spit on the floor] Did you just spit on my fucking floor?
Ira: Why would I do that? I've been coming here for 12 years! Ask the manager.
Me: We haven't been here 12 years.
Ira: So, do you have a boyfriend?
Me: Nope. Don't want one.
Ira: Why?
Me: Don't have time for that shite. Boyfriends are a waste of time and stupid.
Ira: Hey! Calm down with that stupid. So, do you smoke the chronic (I had no idea people still called it that)?
Me: Yeah.
Ira: You smoke it at work?
Me: No.
Ira: You want to smoke with me after work?
Me: No.
Ira: Can I try tomorrow?
Me: You can try.
Ira: Sunday?
Me: You can try.
Ira: Please tell me I can try on Monday.
Me: Yeah, but I won't be here.
Ira: Okay. But I'll be back tomorrow!
Turns out he'd pished all over the back of the shop. Yay.
