Dumbass made things hell by leaving the back door unlocked on the shifts when she closed. But that wasn't her only fault.
She. Never. Shut. Up. Every customer got her life's story about her abusive mother. They were regaled about how her mother put her things in storage, then let the payments stop so that the storage place auctioned off her things. Dumbass told them about how doctors had to remove a growth from the back of her head at birth. She told them that she was currently living with her husband in a van and went to the gym just to take a bath. (She also smelled like she never actually wiped herself after going to the bathroom.)
Many people were followed around the store while she told them these stories. Sometimes she would corner people while she talked, getting waayy too close and blocking the only way out of a spot while she told them her story. Often people would have to shove past her in her obliviousness. By the time they left, IF they did not flee without buying anything, everyone who walked through the door had a documentary's worth of The Life Of Dumbass.
I was more than a little surprised that nobody told her to shut up or that they didn't want to hear it. Usually a custy takes only so much before they go off on a retail slave.
Hell, EMPLOYEES were followed around the store while she regaled them with her stories. She would have an arm full of folded scrubs in her arms and she would follow me AWAY from where they went while she blathered to me as I put something away.
Many, many times, I would turn around, practically crash into her, and tell her, "Dumbass, we need to get these on the shelf. Go put that armload away!" Then she would go put them away, shelve for a while, and then do it again in an hour.
Coworkers would share their own woes with me; she would pick at the skin around her fingers, peeling away dead skin and leaving the bits on the counter. There were times she would pick till it bled.
We went through a LOT of Clorox wipes at the register because nobody wanted to touch the keyboard or the phone after she worked. We would cash out money from the till and SEND somebody to the convenience store outside the mall if we ran out. Maybe that was a compulsive tic or something, but without a manager to take her to task or fire her, we were stuck with doing what we could.
There was little hope in having a quiet day with Dumbass around. One of my few pleasures in leaving the store was when Racist Bitch drove me away, Dumbass still worked there, and was still a non-stop blatherer. I was more than a little amused that Dumbass was the last white person to be fired from the store, months and months later. Racist Bitch got to put up with her for a long time.
May all your coworkers not suffer from Blathering Idiot Syndrome.