HELLFIRE AND BRIMSTONE! RAGE AND FURY!!
Hello all. K-Fit here (formerly Kerry – thanks to Sam for my new name!), and oh Dear Lord am I full of ANGER today.
I shall start by saying that I know I probably shouldn't be this angry over this occurrence, but at this point in my retail HELL career, I can't help it, nor do I care.
Last night (Friday), I dealt with the rudest, most inconsiderate devilspawn I've ever fucking encountered. They may have even beaten out the bitchy six-year-old first grader I took care of at a summer day camp (a story for another day).
These three little demon hellspawn seemed to be all sisters, or at least some kind of relatives. The oldest was not more than twelve years of age, the middle one eight or nine, and the youngest about six. Two “adults,”(and I use that term extraordinarily loosely), presumably at least one mother, were accompanying them. As the older females shopped, the maniacal children were running around the department yelling, being obnoxiously loud, and knocking things off shelves and off racks, leaving them on the floor, apathetic to the fact that I now had to clean up after their piggy little aggravating antics like the little jerks they were.
During their shenanigans, the oldest apparently picked up some shirts to try on, as she bombarded the fitting room with her and her sisters' presence. Every goddamn time they closed the door, they fucking SLAMMED it shut. Which is not only disturbing to my ear drums, but if they break it, no one else can use that room until it gets fixed, leaving a longer line for other customers and more headaches for us.
As she's trying things on, she's yelling through the door at her mom or whoever who is sitting RIGHT OUTSIDE THE FUCKING ROOM. It's very close quarters, you can hear each other fucking whisper in there.
When she was finally finished, she waltzed out of the room like the diva she thought she was, and continued to run around with the younger ones.
As I saw that she brought NOTHING out with her, I went in to check the room, KNOWING that everything was left in there.
Sure enough, like I have some kind of retail hell psychic curse, there are the shirts, every single one of them, thrown all over the chair, tangled together, and not one of them hung up.
Apparently, I must have “angrily” began cleaning up after them (what a surprise), because after I had brought the shirts out and hung them on the rack right outside the damn doors and began folding a pants table nearby, where I wasn't in visibility range of the fitting rooms, the mom said something about cleaning up after themselves for me (whether it was positive or negative, I have no idea).
I don't know what the girl said in response to this, but I heard her mom say “As she was cleaning up, she was hanging them up really hard.”
The girl said something I couldn't hear, probably extremely rude, to which her mom must have told her she was being too loud, because she immediately followed it with, “Good, I hope I'm loud enough so she can hear me.”
All her mom said was, “You have an attitude,” but did NOTHING to correct her. They left the fitting rooms, and were in the department for another five minutes or so. Every time they saw me, knowing that I was already pissed, the middle one looked at me and just grinned with this devilish fucking evil satisfaction on her face.
When they finally left, as they were already in the AISLE walking away, of course not to my face, the middle one said loudly enough knowing I would hear hear, “I'm so mad I have to clean up when it's my job!”
WHAT THE FUCK?! Now I'm absolutely fucking infuriated. I wanted to fucking slap that acid-toungued little monster and her bitchy mouth and evil fucking grin right off her spawn of Satan demon face.
First of all (not that I have to tell you), yes, technically my job is to clean the department, but there is a rack to hang your shit outside the rooms for a fucking reason, and IN THE DIRECTION YOU ARE ALREADY WALKING when you leave. It takes an extra TWO FUCKING SECONDS! The rack literally states, “Back on the rack! We'll take it from here.” Just because “it's my job” doesn't mean you have to be a fucking dirty little barbaric piggy asshole and leave your shit everywhere. And at twelve years old, I'm pretty damn sure you should be able to READ THE DAMN SIGNS on the back of EVERY door that kindly request you to bring everything out (I have a pic of this sign in an earlier post). They didn't care in the least bit that they left me a mess. If their moms or whoever they were weren't there, I would have gotten fired yesterday for bitching out a bunch of kids. I didn't feel like getting into a fight with parents. Those are the people I want to follow home, tear apart their houses and just leave it there and walk away because “it's their job” to clean it because they live there.
The worst part of the whole thing is that the “adults” did absolutely NOTHING to stop or correct them from acting the way they did or voice their spitfire bitchy attitudes. And that, my friends, is why everyone is a fucking asshole.
My solution to this night – thank God it was my friend's birthday and she invited everyone out – was to meet some friends at a bar and dance out my frustrations.
You know what, fuck it, I don't care. I wish I would have bitched them all out. Fucking little assholes. I hope they swallow glass.
Until next time, RHU,
BONUS FITTING ROOM NIGHTMARE PICS:
Lazy Piggy Shopper couldn't be bothered to throw the water bottle away...in a trash can RIGHT OUTSIDE THE FUCKING DOOR! Ugh.