At Retail Hell Underground we have created a new department you won't find in any store:The Bitch Department. Retail Slut Carolanne is our Bitch Department Spokeschick. If you have a subject you'd like Carolanne to Bitch about, click her picture on the left sidebar and send her an email dammit! Be warned. Carolanne is mouthy and says what's on her mind. As Retail Slaves we apologize for enough during the day at our Stores. Here at Retail Hell Underground we apologize for NOTHING!!! If the F bomb bugs you, read no further.
Today's Bitch Department Subject: I'm on the Phone!
It's bad enough the fucking phone rings non stop at our counter, but it pisses me off royally when I am on that phone dealing with some fucked up stupid shit and a customer walks up and screams something out at me like: "Where's the bathroom?" or "How much is this?" - The tag is on the side dumb-ass! What the fuck? Can't you see I'm on the phone you rude douchebag. What? Were you raised in a gutter? Get some fucking manners! What is it with people? Do they think I have two heads and one can tell them how to get to the pisser while the other handles whatever fucked up nightmare problem is on the phone? I also hate it when my co-workers and managers do it. "Carolanne I need to talk to you about switching shifts," or "Carolanne why didn't you finish merchandising the denim wall," or "Carolanne, do you know where the measuring tape is?" I'M ON THE MOTHERFUCKING PHONE! WAIT TILL I'M DONE SHITHEAD! 
When people piss me off like this, many times I'll turn my back and simply ignore them. Sorry, only one of my fucking ears work. But if they keep talking at me I have no choice but to raise an index finger (wish it was my middle one). I'll hold that index finger out like I'm Cesar Millan training an unruly Chiquaqua and give them an authoritative glare. Most of the time people will can it at the sight of my finger, but every once in awhile some fucking bitch will keep right on squawking at me, "I need to know how to get to parking level C8 Green level." One of these days I am going to snap and scream, "SHUT THE FUCK UP RIGHT NOW OR I'LL GIVE YOU AN ASS-BEATING YOU WON'T FORGET! LASER TATTOO REMOVAL WON'T BE ABLE TO COVER THE MARKS. LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE YOU RUDE ASSWIPE!" Okay, so I can't say that, but you know its what I'm thinking. If you are a customer and you see some poor retail slave on the phone, give them a few fucking seconds for chrissake and DON'T TALK AT THEM! Rude, rude, rude! Don't be a rude asshole.
P.S. I also fucking hate it when management rags on us for having personal calls. It's okay for my Droid Manager to talk to his fucking mistress or trick for 25 minutes, but if I need to give my boyfriend a grocery list, he goes all transformer on me. STOP IT RIGHT NOW FUCKERS! All of our personal calls are equally important. Show us Sluts and Whores some respect!
Okay, I'm done now. Go back to Retail Hell.
